Maid as Muse: How Servants Changed Emily Dickinson's Life and Language

By Aífe Murray
University of New Hampshire Press

The popular image of Emily Dickinson is that of an almost ghostly woman in white, secluding herself in an upstairs bedroom alone, but Maid as Muse's innovative approach shows her frequently in the kitchen. There, she is found stirring puddings, baking her famous gingerbread, and living on familiar terms with the household help. She shared her dreams and gossiped with her favorite maid, the Irish-born Margaret Maher, who Dickinson referred to as her dear Maggie.

Murray uses a wide range of documents, including maps, advertisements, letters, photographs, and oral history interviews with descendants of the Dickinson's domestic staff to recreate the material and intellectual milieu in which the poet wrote her celebrated works. Murray demonstrates that the quantity and quality of Emily's writing output—in letters and poems—varies with the presence and absence of reliable servants in the household. Only when there are competent people to help with the heavy load of housework that a nineteenth-century homestead requires is Emily able to find the time, the energy, and, most significant, the concentration to write at her best.

Furthermore, Murray shows that the servants' vernacular speech—often quite different from the staid Yankee rhythms of the poet's family and neighbors—influenced Emily's compositions. The poet herself quotes sayings in her letters by the Irish immigrant Mrs. Mack, for example, and notes how differently her maids pronounce certain English words. Emily's famous slant rhymes and staccato lines of poetry also have startling parallels to the reported conversations and personal letters of her staff.

Murray traces the contributions of Black, American Indian, and British-born servants to the life and work of Emily Dickinson. She points out the places where Emily revealed the prejudices of her times, the classism and racism, yet she also acknowledges how Emily managed to rise above those prejudices and see poor people and other outcasts as sympathetic human beings. This is an enormously rich book, impossible to summarize briefly, well worth exploring, not only by the many fans of Emily Dickinson's poetry, but anyone interested in cultural history and the development of American society.

Review by Kittye Delle Robbins-Herring

Privilege: A Reader

Edited by Michael Kimmel and Abby L. Ferber
Westview Press

A historian once said that the more one can know about something, the more you can control it. Michel Foucault was specifically talking about the control of psychiatric patients, prison inmates, and people's sex lives, but we can certainly extend his thoughts to a plethora of other examples. What Foucault did not say, however, was how exposing and learning about power and dominance can lead to their dismantling.

After more than two decades since his passing, the inheritors of Foucault's ideas make an appearance in a handsome new book that explores the invisible power of privilege; namely the privilege of being White, heterosexual, and middle class in America. Privilege: A Reader is a collection of essays compiled and edited by Michael Kimmel and Abby L. Ferber, both scholarly experts in masculinities and ethnic studies respectively. The book takes on a welcoming and accessible feel with essays that come a personal place, many written from a first-person perspective by heavyweights like Patricia Hill Collins, bell hooks, and Tim Wise.

Some, like Allan Bérubé's experience as a gay rights activist brings to light the complications of being White in anti-racist gay rights movement. Not being White, I found Bérubé's angst about pointing out the Whiteness of influential gay groups in the U.S. an eyeopener. For White people, it seems, it was convenient to remain racially invisible and to depend on the unspoken rules about keeping that Whiteness unchecked. Awkward silences, defensiveness, and hostility form the repertoire of White discomfort when the racial gaze is turned to Whiteness.

In Michael A. Messner's piece on "Becoming 100 Percent Straight," he raises questions that heterosexual people rarely ask: how do we know for sure we're straight? And what made us straight? Messner's question is interwoven in a study of his own sexuality that touches on his memories as a young man who was infatuated with a male classmate and friend. In repressing this infatuation, he belittles and rejects his friend—a process Messner calls the heterosexualisation of his masculinity.

With every chapter I am reminded of the discomfort the topic of privilege raises and how important that it should remain unsettling. I learn that Black men and working class White people, as privileged groups, are highly contested categories in the face of institutional racism and poverty. And dishearteningly, I discover that the gateway to social mobility undermined by the unearned privilege of being accepted to Ivy League colleges by virtue of having parents who are alumni.

Kimmel and Ferber's book takes us on a journey of self-reflection, of deconstructing the power of invisibility, and asks us some difficult questions about our many roles in maintaining oppression. But it does not try leave us beset with racial or class guilt. Rather, it invites us to pursue, both on a theoretical and practical level, ways of recognising the overlapping nature of social privileges and overcoming differences in the name of solidarity against oppressions.

Though Privilege: A Reader could be a more comprehensive, far-reaching catalogue of dominance, both insidious and overt, if it had taken on board the narrative of privilege from other non-White experiences and interrogated what being able-bodied and cisgendered mean. The absence of trans, disabled, Asian, and Native American voices speaks, ironically, of Kimmel's and Ferber's privilege of omitting these important experiences that are key to dismantling the edifice of privilege.

I praise Privilege: A Reader nonetheless, for its courage to speak from a place that prefers to remain silent, for raising attention to a things that want to stay hidden, and its overall critique of life's many taken for granted experiences and “common sense.” I'm sure Foucault would be proud of that.

Review by Alicia Izharuddin

Creating Ourselves: African Americans and Hispanic Americans in Popular Culture and Religious Expression

Edited by Anthony B. Pinn and Benjamin Valentin
Duke University Press

The topic of cross-cultural communication has fascinated me for a number of years, partly because of my own experiences in Latin America, and partly from observing the interaction between the Latino/a and African American communities. Watching these two groups interact has taught me a great deal about differences in the ways of communication, how what may be "appropriate" in one culture may not be in the other, and the need for discussion to avoid potential misunderstandings.

Therefore, it was with great interest that I read Creating Ourselves, a study on cross-cultural communication and collaboration between religious scholars of the two largest minority groups in the United States. The timing of the publication of this book is of great importance, as both groups have, to a certain extent, been viewed as "foreign elements" that might threaten the national identity of Americans, especially in the current economic climate. Scholars from both communities engage in a dialogue, an exchange of opinions, perspectives, and hopes, as their history and identity is linked through the cultural production via representations in popular culture.

I found the structure of the work innovative and very much needed in scholarly circles. The book consists of seven sections with two essays in each of them, one from each group. Every article is followed by a response written by a corresponding essayist from the opposite group, each contributor using their own personal experiences to further engage readers.

Teresa Delgado analyses the novel América’s Dream by Esmeralda Santiago, which delves into the life of América González, a single mother who takes a job as a maid in a hotel in New York after suffering abuse by her daughter's father in Puerto Rico. Although América finds freedom in New York, she remains isolated and silent, as she has not broken the dependency of oppression. Cheryl Kirk-Duggan, in response, reflects on the "womanist theory" that calls for revolution in the ways of seeing, living, and being. The term "womanist," coined by Alice Walker, refers to women who are in charge, who champion freedom and who transform the oppressive forms affected by race, gender, and class domination. Kirk-Duggan uses hip-hop artist Lauryn Hill as an example of just one of these extraordinary women.

In "Television and Religion," Jonathan Walton analyses the dramatised faith in megachurch movements; the colossal buildings that house sanctuaries, gyms, daycare, bookstores, and more are especially attractive to African American communities, with their charismatic pastors who even hold worship through an electronic church. Another form of melodrama is found in the Latin telenovelas (soap operas) that have become extremely popular for millions around the world; Kassandra, a Venezuelan soap opera attracts people as far away as Serbia, while The Rich Also Cry is popular even in Moscow.

Overall, I enjoyed reading Creating Ourselves as the subject of creativity in all different forms, styles, colours, and shadows is part of our daily life.

Review by Anna Hamling

Jesus Boy

By Preston L. Allen
Akashic Books

Star-crossed intergenerational love between a Christian matriarch and a young church pianist sounds like an unlikely fictional masterpiece, but in Jesus Boy, Preston L. Allen’s empathic, intricate storytelling skillfully unfolds this improbable tale of religious conviction, sexual desire, and social pressure to conform.

While striving to maintain a virtuous private life—and wholly failing to do so—Elwyn Parker struggles with his public image as a young preacher. At the tender age of sixteen, his childhood crush becomes pregnant by another boy, confusing his chaste heart. At the same time, his aged mentor dies, leaving a grieving widow with whom Elwyn takes up, despite their twenty-two year age difference and to the great surprise of them both. Suddenly, sexual vices overwhelm a story of deeply religious believers, who struggle to make sense of the contradictions between spiritual dogma and physical and emotional desires. Most of the story’s characters live hypocritically at best; yet, their humanity is striking and a clear reminder of what it means to live with wholly unrealistic expectations of oneself and one another.

Between the evangelical language and the geography, the novel had additional resonance for me personally. Set in South Florida towns like Lakeland and Plant City, I could easily imagine not only the Church of Our Blessed Redeemer Who Walked Upon the Waters congregations and their church buildings but also the two-lane highways that connect some of the small cities mentioned. My maternal grandparents, retired ministers, have lived in that area for the last decade and attend two church services every Sunday: one in their trailer park, where grandpa leads the worship service, and one at a Church of God in Lakeland.

The book takes many turns, and sometimes I would be reading for several pages about a newly introduced character before all the pieces fell into place. Allen layers themes of familial obligation and incest with religious judgment and piety, all the while undoing any assumption you might make about essential underlying elements of a functional intimate relationship blossoming in the shadow of slavery and racialized poverty. Feminist in the sense that the author exposes the humanity of each character equally, Jesus Boy will encourage the most progressive thinker to reevaluate their moral judgments about love, parenting, pregnancy, and May-December romances.

Akashic Books consistently publishes quality fiction, and Jesus Boy is just one more must have title in their catalog. If you only read five novels this year, this should be one of them.

Review by Brittany Shoot

The Blue Orchard

By Jackson Taylor
Touchstone

I can't remember the last time a tale of fiction grabbed me and wouldn't let me go. I finished The Blue Orchard by Jackson Taylor over a week ago and it still haunts me during those quiet moments of my day. What drew me in to say 'yes' to reviewing this book was that it is a tale of a nurse in pre-Roe America who is arrested for performing illegal abortions. On top of that, The Blue Orchard is a fictionalized tale of Taylor's own grandmother.

But I have to tell you that I forgot that last fact while reading. I was so consumed by the ups and far too many downs of Verna Krone that I simply forgot she really did walk this earth. The Blue Orchard is a painful tale of a young girl's hope to find her place in the world, only to have too many decisions made for her that ultimately result in heartbreak. The story is far too delicate than I could ever express.

I will certainly be suggesting The Blue Orchard the next time my book group needs to pick a title. Not only is the issue of abortion discussed, but also gender roles, race, class, motherhood, and even a great dose of local politics. Oh, did I love the local politics angle!

Review by Veronica I. Arreola

Cross-posted from Viva La Feminista

The Taste for Civilization: Food, Politics, and Civil Society

By Janet A. Flammang
University of Illinois Press

At a time when Western society is becoming more and more dependent on cheap and rapid sustenance of often dubious nutritional value, Janet Flammang’s study is an important reminder of both the way it was and the way it perhaps should be. In The Taste for Civilization, Flammang sets out to present what she calls “table activities” as central to respect, citizenship, and a greater good. Inevitably (because of both the topic and her expertise in Women’s Studies), the author’s analysis explicitly and logically makes gender a key factor in this construction. This researcher’s previous book was an analysis of the importance of studying women’s movements at all levels in political science, entitled Women’s Political Voice: How Women are Transforming the Practice and Study of Politics. As politics evolve, the “politics of food” could be said to be what is being examined in this new work.

This attractive volume (the cover photo is especially lovely) is divided into five parts and thirteen chapters, including extensive notes, a bibliography, and a handy index. An historical analysis of meals and food preparation in (principally) the Western world is included, and Flammang shows demonstrates her extensive knowledge of a wide array of topics from ancient Greek philosophy, to the Enlightenment thinkers, anthropology, sociology, and modern psychological studies. Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, and Freud are all called upon in the text, whether it is to define society or to explain women’s role in the feeding process.

Flammang begins with the premise that “table activities” (in other words, “everyday food practices” or “mealtime rituals of food preparation, serving, and dining”) are central to socialization, and therefore tackles the conundrum of women’s shifting position in this activity (from traditional gender roles, for example) and the possible consequences on Western civilization (the end of communication, discussion, and consensus?). Naturally, the author does not pass judgment on women for their lack of investment in the rituals (enough do!), but rather examines this important social change as it presents itself and proposes possible solutions to this important shift in practice. Interestingly and importantly, the author also analyzes shifting “food practices” along racial and class lines in several chapters.

Flammang also draws the topic away from the domestic sphere and discusses food-related issues that are regional, national, and international. Her discussions of the effect on North American society of certain food stuffs, like the use of bleached white flour or processes such as canning, are intriguing. Along with testimonials from the general population, she includes cultural references to changes brought about by immigration, including the semantic importance of food for certain groups (e.g., “breaking bread”). In chapter ten, entitled “Delicious Revolution,” she examines Alice Water, California chef and cookbook author, who has also extended her revolutionary food philosophy to schools where she is a vocal advocate for healthy meals in schools for all children.

Surprisingly, Julia Child, is not mentioned explicitly by Flammang, despite having been again prominent in the media since the 2009 movie retracing certain aspects of her life. At times, the subtitles of the chapters are sometimes puzzling and the author cannot avoid a certain amount of repetition (French philosopher Brillat-Savarin seems to be a favourite). Despite these remarks, this thorough analysis is exceptionally well written, and of interest to anyone who has even a remote curiosity as to the link between food and civilization in Western society.

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

Post Black: How a New Generation Is Redefining African American Identity

By Ytasha L. Womack
Lawrence Hill Books

Post Black reads like a young, or relatively young, African American’s manifesto. Specifically speaking, it brings home points of declaration from the Generation X and Y African American crowd. Ytasha Womack thoroughly, interestingly, and comprehensibly covers the various aspects that make up the Black population in America. Some of these aspects include African immigrants, young Black professionals, hip-hop participants, and feminists.

I appreciate what Womack is not trying to do with this book, which is establish Black leadership, crucify certain Black men and women, browbeat the generations before us, and preach. There have been many writings on how Generations X and Y see the world, but few of those, if any, do so from the lens of those who have inherited slavery, the Civil Rights Movement, and institutionalized racism. When compounded by those factors, the entrepreneurial spirit that is characteristic of Generation X often affects what type of business is started, who that business caters to, and the very success of that business. The mistrust of authority that is also said to be characteristic of this generation can offer a whole new understanding when the historical basis for this mistrust is legitimate and validated on a continual basis by a society that refuses to acknowledge the historical relevance of entire groups of people. While Post Black does not blame or dwell on this historical reality, the effects are profound in how Black identities in America are shaped and molded by this reality.

Womack details not only the cultural legacy Blacks in America have inherited, but also the struggles of breaking free from the many limitations this legacy has placed on Blacks. Being bound by expected obligations of young Blacks to uphold and preserve this legacy have forced many to abandon it altogether, while others have adapted to the political, social, and economic climate of today. Womack points out that social issues that were previously ignored, dismissed, or viewed as negligible (e.g., homosexuality, feminism, and the large immigration of Africans from the African diaspora) have expanded the perceptions of what it means to be Black in America.

Womack gives a wonderful treatise on how Black is defined according to the individual experiencing it, not solely on what she thinks it is. She includes her own experiences, but uses them to explain the points and experiences she is trying to convey to those who may not understand. I understand thoroughly, because I am the product of the African and African American cultures while falling into that infamous generation known as X. Even for the reader who does not fall into a category of color, the ability to identify with what is said in Post Black should not be lost because negotiating a path that is only a handful of generations away from slavery has affected the realities of all those who have inherited its legacy.

Review by Olupero R. Aiyenimelo