Book Review

I just finished reading Kate Chopin's The Awakening. In a nutshell, it is a book about a woman who has no identity--she scorns the women who find their calling in being a wife and mother, tries to buck society, but is, in effect, truly lost. She is so shallow and naive that she cannot be at peace with herself. While the critics have said that it is one of the first works of feminist fiction, and that it explores true women's emotions, I think that the thing that it does best is point out how silly we can be, as women, trying to have everything we want without truly figuring out what is most important to us. In the book the main character drowns herself because she realizes that she has painted herself into a corner. She has given up all that she has in order to daydream and waste her time. She can't return to the family she has abandoned, and she can't be with the man she loves because he is unwilling to break up her family, and she absolutely cannot spend any time by herself. So she drowns herself. Naked. I have been stewing about this for a little while, and here is what I think:

1. I don't think that it is a feminist book in the sense that many of us younger ladies think of feminism--burn your bra, abort your babies, grow some schnuts feminism. I think that it represents true feminism--the idea that women are individuals, not simply caretakers and breeders. Women have emotions and needs, and it is just as important for a woman to figure out her place in the world as it is for a man. People cannot be truly happy unless they are comfortable in their lives, and that implies living a life of your choosing.

2. It is OK to be a mom and a wife, in fact it is more noble than screwing around with ridiculous hobbies and past-times, trying to fill up the gaps in your empty life. (Which I wish I had figured out before I spent three hours canning strawberry jam to see if I could do it. For the love.) Edna, the main naked drowning lady, ships her kids off to her mother-in-law while she becomes a reasonable artist, pining for her "true love." She paints and goes to parties and sleeps with gigolos and cries alone at night. I think that she could have had happiness as a single woman, an artist, whatever, but she is so directionless, only dreaming about what she cannot have. There is no way that she would be happy. Her best friend, on the other hand, has lots of children and is described as one of the "mother-women" (see #3) and is perfectly content with her life. She even tries to counsel Edna on finding some happiness, but is rejected. I don't think that Chopin is saying that everyone should be a wife and mommy, but she is saying that you need to figure out what makes you truly happy, truly you, and then do it completely.

3. When you give yourself to your family, you don't lose your individuality, but you gain a sense of inner peace and the freedom to be more yourself than you would be alone. Early on, Edna reflects on these "mother-women" (women who are clearly doting mothers, who seem to have traded in their individuality in order to "grow wings as ministering angels") and feels a sense of unease and detachment. The reader feels like maybe they will be scorned or made fun of, but really these "mother-women" are the most sophisticated, human characters in the entire story. They are the cosmopolitan women after they put their children to bed, they are the ones able to love and feel love in return--unlike Edna's "passion" that only burns for what she can't have.

So, to bring it around town (Bring It AROUND TOWN) this book was a good read for me--I have been struggling a lot with the same ideas--that by being a mommy I am trading in all of my worth and giving it to my daughter. I know the party-line: "no other job is greater blah blah blah" but it has been a hard one to get around. I think that what I am taking away from it is that any real passion, real calling, real pursuit will bring real joy. If I am crying every night because of something I am doing, if I am dreaming every hour about something yet to come, then I am wasting my life. The individuality is not traded, but enhanced, and I don't need to fill myself with nonsense (like "I am my kid's mom"--the stupidest thing I have ever heard--because a woman who finds herself needing help from a caregiver is no longer a mother? And just because I stay at home makes me a real mother, even if all I do is beat my kids?) in order to justify my role. The justification should be the contentment that I feel. So, basically, fruit of good tree will make you feel good. Fruit of bad tree will make you feel bad. (Haven't I read that somewhere else, too?)