Last week, I had dinner with my mother. We were talking about the blog I write for, and why I’d prefer that she not read it.
“I write about things you shouldn’t know,” I said. “Sex, dating, stuff like that. The boy I’m seeing doesn’t read it, either. I need anonymity so that I can be honest.”
“I understand, honey,” she said. “I’m sure it’s beautiful writing. I don’t need to see it to know that.”
Dear God, I love my mom.
“So,” she continued, “are you going to see the Sex & the City movie?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, making what I believed to be a very cunningly disguised oh, gross face.
“But you have to! You are Carrie!”
All of this is preamble to the main point, which is: I’m reading the Keith Gessen novel. I’m also reading Rebecca Traister in Salon – who, in a recent piece about the Emily Gould clusterfuck, pointed this out:
We have to remember: There is nothing wrong with women writing about themselves, their youth, their indiscretions, their habits and values and personal development. Men have been writing about this stuff for thousands of years; they call it the canon.
And like their male contemporaries, a lot of this writing disappoints.
Now, I have seen SATC – mostly, in a bizarre and uncomfortable-making twist, with my mom. She loved the show. As a woman who’s been married a few times, and who at one point had a column about being a “new, 70s woman” negotiating marriage and motherhood, the whole Bradshaw thing was right up her alley. I also had friends who liked it, and told me (many, many times) that I was “so like Miranda,” I guess because I’m a bitch, and they showed me several episodes to prove this point.
So, yes, I am familiar with the show. I don’t like it much, but I do find the massive backlash interesting. It’s not just about the movie – which, I’m told, is so jam-packed with stilted dialogue, ugly clothes, and racist stereotypes that it justifies all the negative feeling surrounding it – it’s about women, and about the femininity of the show. Women care about shopping and parties: so trivial! Women care about (and will pay to see films about) other women: so weak-minded! Women care about relationships, and themselves inside relationships: so girly!
Which brings me back to the point (remember when I had a point?) of Gessen, and All the Sad Young Literary Men. I’m not that far into it; I just finished “The Vice-President’s Daughter.” In that story, “Keith,” who speaks in the first person and goes to Harvard (just like Keith Gessen – whoa) cannot get laid for the life of him, while his roommate, a jovial, slutty, slightly sketchy dude by the name of Ferdinand, gets all the chicks – including, at one point, the daughter of the Vice-President, who is not named, but is clearly Al Gore. Keith has a crush on her, and listens to them fooling around, because he is gross. At one point, she puts a stop to it, and it’s clear that they don’t actually fuck. So, their hookup becomes quite the hot subject among Keith and his dude friends (do they discuss it at brunch, perhaps?) who debate how far Ferdinand actually got with her and whether or not it constituted “sex.” It’s funny, because it’s like the Lewinsky scandal! Which Keith explicitly mentions! Also, there’s a lot about Gore’s presidential campaign and how it parallels Keith’s fortunes with the ladies, because – get this – Ferdinand is the Clinton to Keith’s smart yet boring Gore!
The thing is, obvious, jokey parallels like these were used – and widely derided – on Sex & the City. Also, the constant and self-conscious referencing of status symbols (Harvard! Harvard! HARVARD!) and “important” people (“in my secret dreams of Harvard, of what Harvard would mean for me, it was of course I who slept with… the Veep’s handsome daughter”) were precisely what lots of people, including myself, disliked about that show. And, my God, I’m flipping frantically through the book, and I have yet to find one page on which some dating imbroglio is not mentioned. Here’s a recap:
- Was he a small-souled coward, not to simply have two girlfriends?
- “Celeste,” he began. “Listen to me. I beseech you. I feel like – I feel like we only have one chance at this, you know?”
- Mark would have occasion – he would have many occasions – to wonder just how drunk he was, and just how culpable he was, just how conscious he was, when he kissed Leslie briefly in the kitchen.
- Was it lame and pathetic on Sam’s part to have fled a romantic disaster so he could sort out his feelings on the Occupation?
It’s like, he had to wonder: when we flee our romantic disasters to sort out our feelings on the Occupation, are our romantic disasters really occupying us?
But damn, people take this book seriously. Even the folks who hate it are convinced that it matters. There’s no gender ghetto for this one, no hokey cover or “dude lit” designation: even though it is written by a man, from a male perspective, about men’s experiences of dating, it is universal and literary.
So, I guess my question is this: does anyone remember Burger? Carrie dated him, I believe, around Season Five. He was a writer, and, coincidentally, a complete sourpuss. He was also pretty bad at sex. He had permanent Irony Face and made mean jokes at Carrie’s expense and took her on frequent journeys to the Land of Burger Issues, which was, I can assure you, quite vast. Whenever they had a conflict, he would do this thing which went like so: “But, Carrie, I’m a serious novelist! I think about stuff! Seriously! While I write novels! How can you, with your dumb lady writing, comprehend my seeeeeeeeeerious writer’s soul?”
Yep. That guy was a piece of work.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 4 Comments
Tags: behind the times, books, carrie bradshaw, emily gould, keith gessen, lady writing, serious literary aspirations, sex & the city
I’m not so sure about the Jack Berger reference. Berger is inherently insecure (with women AND with his writing career) whereas Mark, Keith, and Sam seem to be, well…. conflicted. Gessen’s characters have problems of navigation while Berger has a problem of self-pitying cynicism and low self-esteem.
Berger is the guy I would toss in a second (not a woman’s job to validate a man’s sense of self). Mark, Keith, and Sam are interesting, flawed, intelligent, and complicated — they would be the kind of guys I would want to temporarily “investigate” (although they seem emotionally inconsistent and therefore not long-term-relationship material).
Gessen’s book should be taken seriously. 30 years from now
(oops – accidentally clicked submit)
(I was saying…)
Gessen’s book should be taken seriously. 30 years from now AND today.
I’m not sure I agree with you. The Berger (so THAT’S how you spell his name!) bit was intended to resonate off of the “seriousness” of the book re: Very Important Issues of the Day, which does not always work, IMO. The Gore story is not the end of it, and is actually, in retrospect, one of the better-handled parallels. Too often, Gessen spins out a really intimate story, then tacks on some crappy “and the fact that Mark/Sam/I could not get laid was like the struggle for a Zionist state, or possibly communism” thing. This does a disservice to the issues he claims to address AND comes across as pompous and self-deceiving, given the ultimately ephemeral and private nature of the novel’s chief concerns. I also think that there’s a certain casual sexism (or, at the very least, fear of women) running through the book, which irks me greatly. That, and the emphasis on (potentially illusory) “literary seriousness,” does, in fact, remind me of the SATC character.
That said, I don’t hate the book. It’s witty in fits and starts, and occasionally moving or true-to-life in ways that surprise me. I’m going to keep blogging about it, and I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t think it was a book worth my time or analysis.
Now: sometimes I worry that, with this book, I can’t tell the difference between intentional immaturity/sexism/pathetic behavior on the part of the characters and unintentionally immature/sexist/pathetic statements from the author. There’s a sort of “I’m pathetic! Ha ha! No, seriously, I’m a loser” thing going on that makes it tough to read. By all means, tell me when you think I’m reading it wrong. Yet I also think, re: the silly parallels, that Gessen actually does think that way – there’s a video online in which someone asks him how he feels about the contemporary dating scene, and he immediately replies with, “well, MICHEL HOULLEBECQ would say… also, CAPITALISM…”
Which, come on: that’s funny.
Interesting interpretation… but very different than my reaction. Although gender nuances and subtleties are worth recognizing in literature, I think we shortchange our ability to appreciate beautifully written stories when we refuse to see past the proverbial “female perspective.” Where you see immaturity and sexism, I see an accurate and poignant description of our generation. My reaction would be the same if the characters had been women. That is to say that I could identify with the emotional and mental positions of Keith, Mark, and Sam — despite the fact that they are men.
Gessen’s characters are rich and complex — even when their dialogue is seemingly ordinary. These are passionate young men — they care deeply about history, literature, and politics. What I find most compelling about their characters is that they are at least trying to make something of this passion. They have great ambition… they want something more than just MONEY (I hate to admit this, but despite having intellectual interests galore — most of the men in my life are ultimately driven by one bottom line: MONEY).
I know which interview you’re speaking of and, although it is certainly an unconventional way to respond to a question about dating, I understood his point and found his Houllebecquian interpretation of post-60s dating (free market) and its semblance to a sort of competition associated with Capitalism to be…. true. We have too many choices, too many options… and an infinite number of potential partners leaves otherwise worthy men and women behind the “top tier” and most desirable. It’s Darwinian, in a way: only the most desirable will survive… all others will be weeded out and placed in the “weak” category. Miranda references this idea somewhere around season 2 or 3….
Miranda: Y’see, this is why I don’t date — the men out there are freaks.
Carrie: Well that’s completely unfair.
Miranda: I’m sorry, if a man is over 30 and single, there’s something wrong with him, it’s Darwinian — they’re being weeded out from propagating the species.
Carrie: Okay, what about us?
Miranda: We’re just choosy. I’m getting more shrimp.
I’m not exactly sure that this relates perfectly to Keith’s point, but this is what I immediately thought of after watching that interview. Dating has become a competition.
Maybe you’ll disagree with me when I say this… or maybe you just need to finish his book, but Gessen’s stories have forced me to consider how we (our generation) have relationships with ourselves, with our lovers, and with our work. These are the things that are important in my life (and, presumably, the lives of most) and therefore become themes that are absolutely worth considering.