The Day I Screwed Myself

March 9, 2009

I may have just uncovered a very large problem in my work.

My dissertation is about everyday life and gender in the fiction of Virginia Woolf, Dorothy Richardson, and Katherine Mansfield. When I first read much of the literature, the following things struck me: These works get at an everyday level that most literature tries to transcend. Also, it seems that the characters have differing experiences of that everyday based on their gender. And, most importantly, the authors experiment with style and form, with the explicit goal of creating a new “feminine” discourse, or a language that properly represents their experience. My primary argument was that the style these three women developed provides a window into the gendered experience of modernity by going through the everyday. My objectives were: 1) To see what more the experience and representations of women’s everyday can tell us about modernism, taken as a cultural response to modernity, and about the role played by women’s writing in the emergence of modernism; 2) To supplement male-centered theories of the everyday by exploring women’s experience of the everyday; 3) To bring attention to Richardson’s and Mansfield’s significance to modernism. I was hoping to uncover a liberatory feminist politics at work in the literature through its potentially subversive relationship to traditionally “feminine” acts.

I’ve come up against one major criticism from my committee. They worry that I risk essentializing the sign of the “feminine.” I worry about that too – in fact, I didn’t originally intend to write about gender at all but I was kind of railroaded into it. I’m fine with it now, but I sometimes feel like I have set a trap for myself that I have to be very careful of throughout the whole process.

As I research, write, and think more specifically about my dissertation, I’ve been having some difficulty fitting the gender stuff in the way I expected. The gendered responses I thought I saw in the literature are much more ambiguous and complex than I realized. This, of course, is good – it only means that I have more ideas to work with. But there was still something unsettling about it, something nagging at me that this wasn’t going to work.

Today, I was looking through some of my notes on Lefebvre’s Critique of Everyday Life to answer a completely unrelated political question. As I skimmed through my pages, I couldn’t help but notice the words “woman,” “women,” “feminine,” appearing again and again – problematic given that part of my objective rests on the premise that everyday theory doesn’t take account of the lives of women. Other, very important critics have said so, so I took it for granted that they were right and I let their arguments colour my own readings of the primary texts. But Lefebvre, de Certeau, Benjamin (all the major players except Debord), actually do take account of the everyday lives of women. The catch is, they don’t privilege gendered inquiries into the everyday because they too don’t want to risk essentializing. In Everyday Life in the Modern World, Lefebvre argues that, “for the critical mind woman’s significance in everyday life is too great to be confined to Femininity. If chance exists, if the individual can back the individual, it is in this field that the game is played, that the stake is lost or won; moreover Femininity forbids real women access to their own lives, adaptation to their own lives, for it submits individuality and particularity (specific differences) to trapped generalities.” He’s not trying to suppress women’s experience, he’s trying to avoid suppressing women’s real experience beneath the sign of the “feminine.”

Simply because I don’t have the time or space, I’m going to skip all the logical steps and background knowledge that led me to this argument: modernity created an essentializing and oppressive version of “femininity” that hid behind the image of the modern, emancipated woman. Modern capitalism assigned women to a role that not only kept them in check but also trained them as good consumers. Lefebvre says, “the ideology of femininity, or of happiness by and in femininity, is only another form of the ideology of consumption (happiness through consuming) and the ideology of technicality (women possessing the technique of happiness!).” The emancipation of women in the early 20th century worked in a dialectical relationship with the concurrent reification of this modern “femininity.”

Maybe, rather than simply expressing women’s experience of modernity, the literature in my dissertation is registering that dialectic. Maybe the innovative “feminine” style that Woolf et al. were trying to create submits to a feminization, and thus marginalization, of the everyday. Maybe it is showing us how the underside of modern femininity was created and reified. This could be why I’m not seeing the liberatory politics I expected to find. I might be wrong, but this hit me like a hammer on the head today and it felt right.

And now I’m scared of my own potential discovery and what it might mean. I may have never really wanted to do a feminist project – but I certainly don’t want to do an anti-feminist project either! How do I tell a community of scholars that the stylistic experimentations in female modernism carry this shadow-side without making them think, from a feminist perspective, that I’m devaluing the literature? Not to mention, Woolf scholars are part of an almost terrifying cult of author worship that ensures no negative arguments about her work will ever see the light of day. I just recently read a series of articles that destroyed a woman who suggested at a conference that Virginia Woolf was classist. Seriously – Woolf calls herself an upper middle-class snob – why can’t we?

I can only think of one way through this at the moment – if a sustained analysis of the literature can help us to uncover the process of reification of a modern femininity, then it may enable a proper critique of everyday life, as Lefebvre intended.

Yikes.


It’s All Over

September 11, 2008

I think grad school has finally completed its work on me. My sense of self and reality, my expectations, and my perspective on the world have been irrevocably altered. I am now at the point where I really believe that reading any less than an entire novel, plus more, in one day marks an unproductive day during which I wasted far too much of my time. I know that’s crazy. But some part of me, a very large part of me, doesn’t know that’s crazy.


Two Fruitful Years

June 17, 2008

I came across a website called Wordle where you can input text and it will generate a word cloud for you. I input everything I’ve written so far for my Ph.D. — term papers from my coursework year, conference papers, conference proposals, my dissertation proposal, and practice candidacy exam questions.

Somehow the word cloud makes me feel like the work I’ve done over the past two years amounts to much more than I thought it did. Maybe it’s because I know the various contexts of all these words, but it seems to make my interests very clear. It also makes me feel cool that “punk” and “rock” are so big.


Head in the Clouds

May 5, 2008

I just can’t seem to get motivated to work as hard as I need to right now. I guess I’d been burned out from studying for that exam and needed a break, but it’s been over two weeks. I have a proposal due on Wednesday and a ton of reading to do before I can finish it, but I just haven’t been able to focus. My mind has been off somewhere else and I haven’t been able to pull it back.

I hate structure and routine. The only routine I appreciate is the one where I get up every morning and head over to the coffee machine to make myself a latte. But sometimes I wonder if I would be more focused if I had more structure in my life. The problem is, I rebel against it when it’s put upon me. I probably shouldn’t worry about it. For all the time I spend worrying about what I’m not getting done, I could just be getting stuff done. And in the end I always get everything done anyway.

This is a really boring post. I’m going to go work on my proposal now.


Sleepless Nights

April 17, 2008

Why do I feel like I’m always writing exams? Oh right, cause I’m in the candidacy exam year of my Ph.D.

Bugger.

I’ve studied so much over the past few weeks that I feel like I’ve completely lost my ability to communicate with 3-dimensional human beings on an everyday level. And I still don’t quite feel prepared. I wonder if I could really have done much more to have felt prepared though. Well, I suppose I could have read EVERYTHING on my reading list, but who does that anyway? I did, however, read all of the poetry, all of the plays, half of the novels, and half of the secondary reading — that’s got to count for something.

At the very least I can be pleased and proud that I was awarded a SSHRC Doctoral Fellowship today. So even if that exam destroys me tomorrow I can still walk away from this week having had some academic validation.

Yay, I’m not stupid! A slacker maybe, but not a stupid one.


“Sad Logic Indeed”

February 26, 2008

Yesterday I opened up PhD Comics for the first time in months, only to discover that they had perfectly captured my day. I don’t know why I ever stopped reading it.

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What to do, what to do…

February 20, 2008

Last week, on Valentine’s Day, I went to see Hayden. He’s a great musician — one of those on-his-own-with-a-guitar-and-a-harmonica kinds of guys — and he played the Alix Goolden Hall in Victoria, which is a converted church. The show was fantastic of course but for some reason it left me with an unexpected feeling. As I was sitting there, listening, taking in the stained glass windows, I became overwhelmed with the desire to make something. My life has always been achievement-oriented. My career path has always been set. And now that I’m closer to making that all happen I’m having moments of doubt. I’m not traumatized by them or anything like that — in a strange way I’m rather enjoying entertaining the possibilities. I keep thinking, I wish I could make music or paint. I think I’d even be satisfied with doing something crafty like knitting or scrapbooking or something. Or even just growing a garden. As long as there was a product at the end of it all. Something that I had made with my own hands and that expressed something of what is inside. I mean, I guess I’m producing stuff all the time in the world of academia, but it’s just not that satisfying right now. The reading is still pretty satisfying — but I’d rather be making something out of it that is entirely different. And it would be nice if it wasn’t all about getting somewhere but rather about enjoying the material I’m working with, which is the reason I went into English in the first place. And the blog is, well, somehow not satisfying either. I’d like to do something more with it, I just don’t know exactly what yet. I guess writing regularly would be a good start.


One Down

December 6, 2007

I found out today that I passed my first candidacy exam. Relief and elation!


The Unknown Threat

November 23, 2007

Big exam tomorrow… It’s a little scary. I’m about as prepared as I can be though — unless I had a time machine and I could go back a couple of months and actually study before the last minute arrived. A small part of me is panicking. At the same time, I don’t really know what to expect, I’ve never been in a situation exactly like this one before. So it’s more a general fear of the unknown than anxiety about the exam itself. Hopefully it all goes reasonably well. I’m resolved with the possibility of failing. I have to be resolved with that otherwise the pressure would be too much. The only thing I’m not resolved with is having to face everyone I know afterwards. This is, of course, the worst case scenario though. I may do just fine. All I know for sure is that tomorrow at 4 pm I will be done. And I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be drunk by 5.


Anxiety Sucks

May 28, 2007

Anxiety sucks. That’s all.