Naomi Wolf’s Vagina, and why it isn’t worth buying her book.

For three months I anticipated the release of a book which had been praised by various literary critics, and appeared to be a revolutionary exploration of the positioning of female sexuality within societies all over the world, throughout history and today.

I was wrongly informed. I am only half way through this book and I’ve resorted to flicking to any page which references a date, a foreign country, or a hormone – the last of which unfortunately appears in every third sentence.

Wolf supposedly highlights the ‘secrets’ of the vagina: they’re all different, have a bit of a complex anatomy and are connected to female emotions. She supports these facts with endless case studies involving rats and rape victims, this is entirely unnecessary though as my boyfriend (who is not a doctor, or Casanova unfortunately) assured me he was well aware of these facts – weren’t we all taught these things in Year 8 Sex Education?

One point which had me throw down my copy in complete anguish was that basically ‘if men buy women flowers, women have better orgasms,’ paraphrased slightly maybe, but Wolf goes on to give a completely convoluted explanation of the reasons for this – hormones, safety, love etc – when really the point is completely obvious: being treated well results in gratitude, affection, sex. Simple.

So in conclusion, I have just spent £12.99 on a completely oversimplified explanation of female neuroscience, a detailed account of Naomi Wolf’s own orgasmic potential (thanks for that) and a few interesting sections on the masturbation of rats via a toothbrush – all written by a woman who calls herself a feminist but rarely references feminist theory, instead favouring the occasional sweeping statement against the entire male sex.

It assumes we as a society are completely unaware of female sexuality – catering to men’s only – and basically illiterate in understanding basic human biology: something I’m pretty sure most of us have been educated in for at least 12 years of our lives.

Oh well, at least now when dopamine- releasing exercise makes me feel good, or I fancy a post-coital chat I can be happy in the knowledge that my actions and emotions are correct, reinforced by 43 case studies and the outstanding insight of Naomi Wolf.

Gemma Correll wrote a book about me.

More from Comica Comiket!

 Not only was I bringing my dear friend coffee on Saturday, I also got to have a good snoop at Comica Comiket and discovered this illustrator, Gemma Correll. I’m not normally into childlike drawings but I sort of fell in love with these Zines and prints – mainly because they actually narrate my life. It’s uncanny.

I am the above image at the moment, last three weeks of uni are killing me. Meh.

Anyway here’s a little insight into the problems of scatty, disorganised, hypochondriac, creative types.

And me.

…I leave a trail of these like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs…

…hypochondria vastly increased by third year stress levels…

…cats are far more interesting than silly pretty boys with tattoos on their necks and deep Vs…

…at least you can always rely on one thing to make it all better!

That is why tonight will be red wine fuelled, yay!

More pugs, cats, dry wit and less me-related-stories from Gemma Correll can be found here.

Popshot Magazine…young poet WLTM enthusiastic illustrator.

Trying to get into a magazine..? Failing to get an Internship with any of the big names (like me!)..? Like drawing or writing things…? Popshot is the place to start!

This British bi-annual magazine brings together contemporary poets and illustrators from across the globe, clawing back poetry from a reputation as that stuffy wordy rubbish best kept in the classroom.

…how it works…

Popshot only accepts poetry for a few months every year and at the moment they’re closed for submissions – but only ’til June which gives you a couple of months to bash out a few decent lines. However they’re always looking for new illustrators so you can email them with your website and they’ll take a peek! Those lucky enough to be chosen as a Popshot illustrator are sent each new edition’s chosen anthology and are asked to produce an image for each poem, next one of these is chosen and bada bing, bada boom there we have a set of sharp poetry and edgy illustrations to match: Popshot!

The Childhood, Love, Power and Liberate issues are still available to buy at just £6 a piece which is pretty good for what’s basically a small illustration paperback if you ask me.

I’m going to get started on some poetry – I’m not much of an illustrator but apparently I can do words all right.

Henry Darger… extraordinary escapism.

This is possibly one of the most fascinating tales I’ve ever come across…

Set on a large planet around which Earth orbits as a moon, inhabited mostly Christian people, a species called the Blengigomeneans, gigantic winged beings with curved horns who occasionally take human form, and the evil Glandelinians, is the longest illustrated novel in history written by one solitary janitor in a single room in Chicago, over a half century period.

A Blengigomeneans or Blengian, winged creatures who aid the Vivian Girls in their rebellion.

Henry Darger was a recluse who settled in a second-floor room of an apartment building in 1930, it was here that he stayed for the last 43 years of his life to finish The Story of the Vivian Girls:What is known as the Realms of the Unreal,of the Glandeco-Angelinian War Storm Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion. With fifteen volumes totalling 15,145 pages it is possibly the longest novel ever written, and it contains several hundred colour illustrations and paintings – some up to 10ft long. The book follows the adventures of seven princesses of the Christian nation of Abbieannia, the daughters of Robert Vivian, who fight against an evil regime of child slavery imposed by the Glandelinians.  Darger had worked all of his life to protect children, relating to them better than adults, he even tried to adopt a child at one point but a history including spells in several mental institutions meant that any applications were rejected.

The girls are sometimes represented as hermaphrodites, and behave like men, while the scenes themselves range from cheerful and innocent to much darker imagery.

Darger couldn’t fully communicate with the outside world and so was shunned, it was only in his books that he could live freely and created an alternate identity: General Darger.

Darger spent most of his life alone, only to be seen regularly searching bins for old newspapers and magazines from which he took some of his inspiration. It was never expected that he was turning these into art.

His life works which included the Vivian Girls, an autobiography and several other small volumes were found in his one-room apartment after his death in 1973.

For more info, Jessica Yu made a documentary in 2004 about the life and works of this elusive artist – here’s a trailer…

I’m going to go to university now and scour the library for this DVD, outsider art – they love that stuff!

Darger’s works are now held by the American Folk Art Museum in New York which also runs The Henry Darger Study Centre in which the books themselves can be flicked through.

A tragic story but these amazing works are a little silver lining at least…

Shakespeare and Co, in memory of the great George Whitman.

Shakespeare and Company alone might just be about half of the reasons that I adore Paris so much. This tiny little bookshop on the left bank has been a haven for bohemian types since 1941, a quiet escape from the bustling streets of gay Pariiii..

 

The late George Whitman offered beds to writers, artists, aspiring actors and creatives alike, but on one condition: they must write him their biography first. Shakespeare and Co was a temporary bed for Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Man Ray – the list goes on – and most people who have passed through this  ”light in a dull and homogenised world” have left their mark in some way.

Shakespeare and Co sadly lost it’s founding father in December last year, but this little literary museum has been passed on to  the safe hands of George’s daughter, Sylvia Whitman, who will no doubt continue to run it with the same passion and morals as the great Mr Whitman himself.

eBooks, Kindles, whatever… can never live up to this. Who doesn’t love the smell of an old book?

Speaking of which, this one is fantastic: a beautiful story of a troubled American who found a home in Shakespeare and Co.

Read it.

…and if you like this post you can buy me a ticket to Paris, oui?