I think wetlands are quite beautiful, actually. Via -Chad Johnson @ Flickr.
I may not be the best person to post about this, as I rarely run out to read new fiction, and probably will not run out and read Wetlands, either. But there have been a number of reviews, features and interview with the author in the press lately, including an excerpt from the first chapter of the novel at Nerve (where you can also find an interview with the author).
For those of you living under a rock, Wetlands quickly became infamous mostly for its graphic, uncensored language about the various body parts, fluids, and sexual practices of the 18-year-old (anti-?) heroine Helen Memel. Words like “pussy,” “smegma,” “asshole,” and “cock” are frequently employed, along with Memel’s own creative terms like “snailtail” (for clitoris). Get out your smelling salts, laydeez, that’s just the beginning.
There is discussion in these various outlets about the feminist or anti-feminist content of the novel: is Roche’s project a feminist one? Though I’ve read a handful of features, I have yet to see her make a clear declaration one way or another, although from what have read, Roche claims to be making some clear statements against the constant social policing of the female body in all it’s hairy, smelly, excreting glory.
Which is what it is: hairy, smelly, and excreting. (Just like the male body.) We’re all animals, no matter how hard we try to obscure the fact–whether we do it with razors and potions and perfumes, or with words. Part of what Roche seems to be doing is pulling back the curtain on the myth that women are sugar-scented angels, but one could also argue that she’s merely rehashing the eternal trope of women as “pretty poison.”
Grove, Roche’s US publisher, has this to say:
Charlotte Roche exposes the double bind of female sexuality, delivering a compulsively readable and fearlessly intimate manifesto on sex, hygiene, and the repercussions of family trauma.
Since few if any of us have read the book (if you have, please weigh in!), we must needs speak more generally. Obviously, some people are still shocked by unflinching descriptions of women’s bodily functions and feelings–just today, my Dude mentioned that he recently overheard a woman (a stranger in a public place) say she was “flowing like Niagra Falls” and found that unexpected, graphic, and funny, all at once. But is it a double-bind? Can we ever speak frankly of these things without their being turned back against us as proof of our monstrous animality?
How direct is the connection between frank or filthy language, and the frank acceptance of our bodies? Do you think a book like Wetlands does more harm than good (whatever its avowed politics may or may not be)? Where do you draw the line between being guileless about our bodies and experiences, and being gratuitous?
DIRECT CONNECTION. Accepting your body means you can talk about it in all its hairy, excreting, orgasming glory, especially if you’re discussing it with your doctor or your lover or others who might really need the info. It’s the key to a happy life, IMHO.
My mother grew up in a very proper Methodist home, and likes to tell the story of how she went for her first pelvic exam at 19 and mispronounced “vagina” (as though the first part rhymed with ‘bag’). She had never heard the word spoken aloud. She was determined that I not follow in her footsteps, so I learned that word as soon as I could talk. I was never made to feel ashamed of my body or talking about it. Mothering WIN.
And so what if women want to be gratuitous about their bodies? I might choose not to read it if it makes me queasy, but they shouldn’t be censored. One of the first priorities of the Patriarchy, after all, is to restrict women’s self-expression and their control over their bodies.
I have a feeling this reads better in German, like Elfriede Jelinek’s (disturbing, poetic, darkly feminist) work. I can’t imagine that describing the female form in all it’s snail-trailed bloodiness can put us backwards. I am not sure I even accept the concept of “gratuitous,” in any context.
However I am trying to think of how large a role bodily processes play in literature by men and about men? The grotesque/sublime nature of erection, ejaculation, body odors, shit, etc? I honestly don’t know. Is it because women are more defined by our bodily processes? Is it because of the fascination/repulsion with fertility and its attendant processes?
But um, smegma? Have to say that is a new addition to my vocabulary.
@JD: Culturally, Germans are super-hygenically concious and squeamish, too, so I suspect this probably more shocking and counter-culture to them than to Americans.
Well, that’s a question, JD. What would gratuitous BE? Certainly, I’ve seen Jackass (etc.) and I could certainly characterize plenty of dudely overshare as “gratuitous.” Is it different because a) I, as a woman, recognize/empathize with other women’s stories, or b) because women speaking frankly has a political dimension than men’s speaking lacks (because of our patriarchal context), c) something else, entirely?
As someone who has difficulty oversharing herself, I nonetheless am generally pro-oversharing.
Of course, I also don’t know what a smegma is.
From what I’ve been reading round the bookish blogosphere, though, it appears that Wetlands is not particularly… informationally-directed. It’s more titillation-oriented. (These are fun hyphenates.) And in which case… eh, I’ve lost interest in reading the thing. I mean, there is oversharing, and then there is overshocking, and I reserve the right to indulge my vapours in the presence of the latter.
@JD: I don’t know about how large a role, but I remember being extremely taken by a short story of David Foster Wallace’s (ok, all of them, but this one in particular) about a thirteen year old boy. He goes into great detail about the changes of the boy’s body, from the chlorine-y smell of semen to a very detailed description of the strange and foreign hairs (underarm, pubic) that are sprouting all over this adolescent’s body. I don’t think that’s representative, but I found it striking and well-done.
I like PhDork’s (b) explanation, too.
Where do you draw the line between being guileless about our bodies and experiences, and being gratuitous?
Are you trying to elicit my feelings about “sex-positive” bloggers?
Because if you are, I am completely with PilgrimSoul, w/r/t bloggers or other writers. If it’s just to excite the reader or show off how very! edgy! I! am!, then I don’t much care for it. If it’s for information, then I think it’s terrific.
I’ve read her Salon interview and there were points I agreed with– for example, that there is more of an emphasis on male sexual fantasy than on women’s and that we don’t have nearly the same vocabulary for our bodily functions– but the point at which she started talking about women as masochists who all hate their bodies I lost interest.
I read the first chapter and I’m inclined to agree with JDRegent– what is gratuitous, anyhow? This is a novel, not publicly broadcast television. What’s gratuitous is the pure shitload of ridiculous unrealistic body images we absorb all day long, I’m not sure one explicit novel about a woman’s secretions and hemmoroids and hook ups with hookers in any way compares. I sort of enjoyed what I read. There were definitely moments when I was like “ha, I recognize that!” Like strands of hair that cut stuck in your pussy (from shedding in the shower I guess?) and being told by my grandma to wear clean underwear at all times in case you go to the hospital.
“get stuck” ie, oops.
@kithkin: Why, of whom might you be speaking?
In that case I would say that raging narcissists are gratuitous about everything, including their bodies. But it’s merely a function of the narcissism, nothing more.
There’s a substantial difference between using the language for shock value and using it to further acceptance of body parts/functions. It’s like if you tell a two-year-old that “spoon” is a dirty word, they’ll repeat it incessantly to get a rise out of you, not because they really care so much about what the word is. I have not read Roche’s books, but if the language is intended to shock for shock’s sake, then I’m not sure what it accomplishes. If it’s intended to shock in the interests of promoting discussion, then I think it has some merit. Women’s bodies are still not viewed as smelly, hairy things in the way that men’s bodies are. Think of the infamous scatalogical humor in Austin Powers: there’s no way those jokes would be made if the shit (yes, shit, not poop or effluvia or any of that) belonged to Heather Graham or Elizabeth Hurley. It had to be the male character’s own shit, because women are dainty and don’t do that kind of thing.
Maybe my deeper problem is a total lack of boundaries about anything. Never had much use for them. And my fundamental voyeurism tends to make even the most mundane and tedious overshares at least worth peeping, to me. Hence my voracious reading of others’ blogs. Not sure if a fictional overshare would have the same effect though.
Despite a lack of boundaries though as soon as I posted I realize there are things I consider gratuitous. The movie 300, for example.
I’ll never tell!
I share your fundamental voyeurism, JD, but I prefer some substance with my peeping. If the overshare is a function of nothing more than narcissism, if the oversharer wants nothing more than to prove how hip and naughty she or he can be, then I lose interest and know better than to click there in the future.
Do you find 300 gratuitous because it’s violence not sex?
And did you all read the Slate review? Troy Patterson calls it the 2 girls 1 cup of novels.
I was reading about this book and thinking “what is the issue here?” and then read Troy Patterson’s review and got royally pissed off. Because 2 girls sharing a mouthful of shit in a completely contextual-less setting is just like a woman describing her bodily functions (and malfunctions) and sexual fantasies. Whatever. If you’re not into gruesome bodily details, don’t read it. Frankly, it might be overshare for shock value to a point, but who cares? There is so much out there in the way of grotesque descriptions of the male body and of the female body via male characters, it’s about time we have female characters being frank about their bodies. It’s (very) gross at points, but I don’t think it’s for naught– where do we place our own hygienic boundaries? Why do we have them, where did they come from? Are some of them worth having? If this character draws the line somewhere within the realm of “normal” hygienic etiquette, it would imply a normative judgment, cutting off the discussion about how we decide these things for ourselves. Douching was all the rage for decades and was believed to do all sorts of things for one’s vagina, and yet that has been thoroughly debunked. What is the harm in recognizing familiarity and comfort with bodily “grossness” as being on female spectrum of experience?
I found 300 gratuitously video-gamish.
I think talking openly and frankly (and even better if with humor) is a feminist act in and of itself even if it’s not meant to be. Silencing has always been a tactic of the patriarchy and we’re left thinking normal things about our body are abnormal. Then we fret over what’s wrong with us. I just wrote a blog post yesterday about how that affected me when I was having medical/hormonal problems that were not being addressed. I started to obsess over what was wrong with me (when it was a fairly common problem) and it really affected my self esteem and life.
so yay for oversharing!
I second Francesca.
[...] Brandon created an interesting post today on Clean up your ___!Here’s a short outlineI think wetlands are quite beautiful, actually. Via -Chad Johnson @ Flickr.Since we’ve been discussing blue language this weekend, I thought the English-language publication of Charlotte Roche’s scandalous German novel Wetlands was rather timely and deserving of a nod. I may not be the best… [...]
Also, George Carlin and other comedians have joked about similiar topics all the time. It’s telling that we freak out when women do the same. It’s like when men get a pass on cursing and women are accused of hurting society’s sensibilities by being “unlady-like”.
Oooohhhh, kithkin, that Troy Patterson piece…I thought about going into a whole rant on that, but my blood pressure, you know. Whatta douche that guy is. He alone is proof that girl-parts (or girls talking frankly about girl-parts) is NOT OKAY.
I recently read the novel. I wasn’t that impressed. The story seemed very focused on the graphic descriptions but very little of the focus was on plot. The descriptions were sometimes gross, but not because it was a woman’s description. I would have been just as grossed out if it had been a man’s. The woman in the book crosses some major lines of hygiene, and I’m sure what she does could make her very sick.
I do enjoy some unexpected graphic language though.