We just got back from our Summer beach holiday. And as I reward for all my hard work over the last couple of months I decided to take a week-long break from all texts study related, including novels. Instead I chose to read Atonement
by Ian McEwan, To Kill a Mockingbird by
Harper Lee, and The Stone Diaries by
Carol Shields. I enjoyed all three of these novels immensely and would highly
recommend them for those who enjoy ‘slice of life,’ deeply thoughtful literary works. Harper Lee’s classic had been on my 'must-read-eventually' list for quite some time (as in several years), and it was really by chance that I ended up throwing it in my bag as a last minute option in case it rained on holiday (which it did, quite profusely). So it almost seems like some strange stroke of fate or coincidence that I finished the book on the very same day she passed away (Feb 19).
Harper Lee, 1926 - 2016
And, finally, here are the last stragglers from my hypothetical 'book bag'!
1. Pope Joan (1996) by Donna Woolfolk Cross
Applicability Rating: 8.5/10
Relevant Themes: Women in power, ‘doing’ gender, masculine vs.
feminine traits enacted by leaders, male and female leadership differences, leadership
in crisis situations
Key Thoughts: In this dramatic page-turner and book club
classic, Donna Woolfolk Cross realistically envisions and brings to life the
legend of Pope Joan, a talented ninth-century woman who allegedly disguised
herself as a man and unexpectedly rose to become the first, and only, female to
preside on the papal throne. Regardless of whether or not Joan the Pope did in
fact exist (although the evidence Woolfolk Cross provides in the ‘Author’s
Note’ is quite convincing), Joan is an unforgettable character who defies
convention and rises to the highest echelons of official power (during this time
period, the papacy was one of the most coveted leadership positions in all of
Christendom).
What happens when a pseudo-male
wields power greater than any other man (or woman) in Europe? Would ‘she’ lead
differently? The back cover tries to emphasise the fact that Joan is a ‘woman’ in power, but I
would disagree with this as Joan always
presents as male, which problematizes labeling Joan as a ‘heroine’ or as a legitimate
female leader example. As a ‘man’ to all but a very select few, Joan is
free from the negative perceptions and expectations which are naturally
afforded to the female sex. In fact, she never has to face the double bind that
women are generally confronted with – should she employ communal behaviours and
be well-liked but not respected or use agentic behaviours and be respected but
not liked. While some members of the papal court are deeply suspicious of
his/her more egalitarian leanings and communal caring behaviours, the majority
accept and respect these ‘feminine’ attributes as long as they are presented in
the guise of the normative masculine body. So even though Joan enacts a more
post-heroic, transformational leadership style (‘women’s leadership’) than
previous papal leaders, without the cloak of masculinity would her ‘leadership’
and authority ever have been taken seriously? The answer is clearly no – in
fact, it is because of her female biological organs that she is killed without
remorse by a raging crowd; her ‘innate femininity’ makes her unacceptable as a
leader or religious figurehead in the public sphere.
After finishing Pope Joan, I began to ask myself what I consider to be an interesting set of questions. For example, why does Woolfolk Cross choose to
have Joan practice more ‘feminine’ leadership traits? Joan's vision for a cleaner, safer, more inclusive, compassionate and moral nation-state is in stark
contrast to her competitor Anastasius’s aggressive, authoritative and
individualistic political goals. Is Woolfolk Cross constructing her view of female leadership
through a cultural feminist lens? Is the novel suggesting that because Joan is
a woman, even though she’s posturing as a man and has only had agentic leadership behaviours modeled for her (there are no strong female role models in her life), she will naturally opt for more communal and participatory
leadership behaviours? And what wider implications do these assumptions about
innate female behaviours have for women and leadership more generally? How
would the story be different if Woolfolk Cross had portrayed Joan as an ‘iron
maiden’ instead?
The other notable topic Woolfolk
Cross highlights is the oppressive social restrictions forced on women, social
ideas that she hints have not completely disappeared. This is epitomised in a
conversation between Pope Joan and Jordanes, a member of her synod:
“Holiness,” he
said, “you do great injury in seeking to educate women.”
“How so?” she
asked.
“Surely you
know, Holiness, that the size of a woman’s brain and her uterus are inversely
proportionate; therefore, the more a girl learns, the less likely she will ever
bear children.’
Better barren of body than of mind, Joan
thought dryly, though she kept the thought to herself.
“Where have you
read this?”
“It is common
knowledge.” (p. 366).
Woolfolk Cross wants to challenge
‘common knowledge’ in all forms, and Joan’s quick wits are readily devoted to
this task throughout the novel (these clever confrontations are excellent!).
While I found the romantic undertones of the story rather frustrating and, at
times, unnecessary (although Joan had to get pregnant somehow I suppose!), the
novel provides a rigorous examination of the root causes and assumptions of misogyny (in
religion and society) and has multiple examples of leadership ‘moments’ with feminist undertones which
would serve as lively discussion points in a book club setting.
2. The Nightingale (2015) by Kristin Hannah
Applicability Rating: 6.5/10
Relevant Themes: Women’s courage in times of crisis, female
leadership in male-dominated contexts, challenging popular expectations and
perceptions, self-actualisation
Key Thoughts: Voted as the Goodreads ‘People’s Choice Awards’ top
historical fiction novel for 2015 (with over 57,000 votes), The Nightingale is a rather typical women's WWII
novel which follows the stories of two sisters whose lives are thrown into
disarray after the Fall of France in 1940. Vianne, the elder sister, lives near
the French border with her small family and tries her best to keep her daughter
safe by complying with the Germans, especially after a Nazi officer is posted
to her house. Isabelle, on the other hand, desperate to fulfil De Gaulle’s call-to-arms
and stand up to the German invaders, flees to Paris and joins the French
resistance. Brave almost to a fault, she leads countless missions across the Pyrenees, smuggling downed air pilots to safety right under the Germans' noses.
I really struggled to get into this
novel and, I have to admit, almost gave up 100 pages in. There is little in the
way of subtly or literary acumen in this book. Maybe it was the predictable ‘chick
lit’ tag line on the front cover (“In love we find out who we want to be. In
war we find out who we are”) which made me sceptical or the over-the-top
portraits of the annoyingly naive Isabelle and painfully bossy Vianne which made the reading experience less than engaging to begin with.
Nonetheless, two-thirds in, as Vianne and Isabelle courageously stand up to the Germans in their own unique ways, I began to pick out some important women and leadership themes. For example, Isabelle, a very pretty young woman, struggles
to deal with and counter the prejudices she experiences leading American and British pilots
to safety. With some of the soldiers unwilling to listen and follow a young woman,
Isabelle must navigate that unsteady bridge between communal and agentic
behaviours, showing that she is both compassionate and capable. Saying this, The
Nightingale is definitely a novel which falls into the popular fiction
category, and is nowhere near as clever or expertly crafted as other works of
literature in the same WWII genre, such as Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See. For this reason, no matter how popular
it was last year, I doubt it will stand the test of time as a canonical ‘great
read.’
3. The Last Runaway (2013) by Tracy Chevalier
Applicability Rating: 9/10
Relevant Themes: Relationships and ‘space between’ women (follower
and leaders), power-with others, ethical and moral decision-making, female role
models and mentors, self-actualisation
Key Thoughts: This was a nice and easy, fast-paced read. Set in the
1850s, The Last Runaway tells the
story of Honor Bright, a sheltered and overly timid Quaker girl who impulsively
decides to immigrate to America with her sister Grace. Her sister dies
unexpectedly from yellow fever soon after their arrival, and Honor sets off on
her own to a small pioneering Quaker community to break the sad news to Grace's intended groom. Opposed in principle to
slavery, Honor is forced to test her beliefs when a runaway slave shows up on her
new husband’s farm. As the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850 comes into full force in
the North, Honor is faced with a difficult moral dilemma: protect her new
family or help the runaways who keep appearing and risk losing everything. Honor doesn’t act alone
– she becomes friends with the indomitable Belle, the local milliner and a free
black woman known as Mrs Reed, both ‘station masters’ for the Underground Railroad.
These spirited women challenge and encourage Honor, acting as ‘leaders’ and
role models in their interactions with her.
What I particularly liked about The Last Runaway is that all the female
characters are diverse and multi-dimensional. Honor’s transformation from shy
and reticent to bold and courageous is well-done and believable. It is due to the influence of Belle and Mrs Reed that Honor is able to change the sense of who she is and what she is capable of, giving her a new understanding of the world and mobilising her for collective action. And there are
plenty of examples which allow for questions, such as: what goes on between women
when leadership occurs? Or, how is leadership between women portrayed and
experienced? How can growth and development be facilitated and supported among women?
The novel also demonstrates how leadership has the ability to move fluidly between people, rather than solely being limited to conventional ‘leader’
and ‘follower’ dichotomies. There is a particular scene where Honor runs away
with a slave woman called Virginie. At first, it seems that Honor is the one ‘leading
the way’ towards their destination, but it quickly becomes evident that
Virginie is also, at times,‘leading’ Honor, who knows next to nothing about navigating
a dark forest at night or hiding from slave catchers. In this context, the task of escaping
becomes the ‘invisible’ leader, guiding how Honor and Virginie relate to each
other and achieve their end purpose.
4. The Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar (2012) by Suzanne Joinson
Applicability Rating:
7/10
Relevant Themes:
Bad/immoral leadership, follower’s perspectives, ‘spaces between’ women
(followers and leaders).
Key Thoughts: This
novel reminded me a little bit of The
House Girl by Tara Conklin – a captivating historical narrative punctuated intermittently
by a sub-par present day story that tries just a bit too hard to connect with
the past. So I was always a little bit disappointed when Evangeline English’s
fascinating diary that records her calamitous missionary trip to Kashgar was
interrupted by Frieda and Tayeb’s lacklustre observations of London life.
I’m not going to bother re-hashing Frieda’s rather
unconvincing story here, but I really did enjoy her great-grandmother, Evangeline’s, 'A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar – Notes.' In 1923 Evangeline, a ‘fake’ missionary
who wants to write a piece of creative non-fiction about her travels, and her passionately
religious sister, Lizzie, set out to establish a mission station in the Middle East.
The sisters are under the direction of an overbearing and conniving missionary
leader called Millicent, a woman who is not all that she seems. Along the way
they rescue a baby from a dying teenage mother and, accused of the young mother's death, the
women end up under house arrest in the unfriendly desert city of Kashgar. In no
time at all, Millicent puts all three women in extreme danger, firstly by
converting a local Muslim girl (who is subsequently drowned by her angry
father) and then by distributing inflammatory tracts throughout the restless and
hostile city with a rogue Italian priest. Evangeline is soon forced to flee for her life across the desert
with the rescued baby, Ai-lien. In her journal entries, Evangeline is an acute
observer of the leader/follower dynamic and the sway a corrupt leader like
Millicent can hold over her followers. It is Evangeline’s apparent obsession with
Millicent that fuels most of the tension in her diary entries – she is at once
repelled and drawn to Millicent’s ‘power-over’ her and Lizzie. Even once she is
free from Millicent’s immediate influence, Evangeline continues to be haunted
by her presence, frequently asking “what would Millicent do?” This dangerous relationship
between the leader and followers would definitely raise some interesting
discussion points, however, due to the frustrating hopping and skipping between
plot lines and narrative voices, I’m not convinced this novel deserves a place on
the short list.
5. Sarah Canary (1991) by Karen Joy Fowler
Applicability Rating: 5/10
Relevant Themes: Female absence and ‘Otherness,’ ‘voicing’ and
‘silencing’ of the feminine, minority experiences (racial, sexual, political,
mental, etc), reluctant ‘leaders’/‘invisible’ leaders
Key Thoughts: By virtue of the fact that the majority of protagonists
and narrators in this book are male, Sarah
Canary should be immediately disqualified from my list. However, some of
the themes (listed above) are particularly fascinating and, I
believe, quite relevant and worth investigating at least briefly. Most importantly, Sarah Canary, even though she never speaks
an intelligible word, could be labelled as a leader. Why? Quite simply, people follow
her, in a literal as well as metaphorical sense. In fact, for Chin she emerges as a type of silent charismatic leader/goddess who is leading him, perhaps against
his better judgement, towards some unidentifiable purpose/knowledge/discovery.
Something I love about Karen Joy
Fowler is that she remains tantalisingly on the fence between genres; playing
with science fiction and otherworldly experiences, but not quite indulging in
an alternative universe. The alien-like behaviour of Sarah Canary is
unsettling, and yet she is still familiar. And because she lacks a ‘voice,’ she is vulnerable to myriad interpretations. In fact every character
in the story constructs, and subsequently projects, a different narrative
background onto her – abused woman, wild woman raised by wolves,
goddess/spirit, mental health patient, etc…
Subsequently, the questions about gender,
perceptions, projection, culture, and leadership which the novels raises are quite endless, and could
include: What if the female heroine is silent? Who speaks for her? How is she
voiced and silenced by those around her? And to what effect? What happens to
the ‘leader’ when the ‘followers’ are the ones who ‘hold power’ even if they
feel ‘powerless’ (e.g. Chin and BJ)? I'll leave it at that for now since realistically I'm not going to use this book further. However, it is an interesting interrogation of a ‘leader’
figure from the followers’ perspective, and it also calls into question the desirability of setting strict criteria on my literature selection.
5. “What I Didn’t See” (short story) (2010) by Karen Joy Fowler
Applicability Rating: 6/10
Relevant Themes: Female perspectives, group dynamics between
men and women, expectations and perceptions, the female body, ecofeminism
Key Thoughts: I’ve been on a bit of a Karen Joy Fowler binge
recently! While I’m not a great short story reader, this entire collection was
surprisingly engrossing with its dashes of science fiction-esque mysteries,
alternative historical narratives and dysfunctional family and community tales.
The second to last story, and the one for which the entire collection is named,
is concerned with providing a feminine perspective on what would normally be
considered a masculine (and very white) African adventure story (think classic
H. Rider Haggard type narratives).
It is not until all the other group members (one woman and
five men) are dead that the narrator feels comfortable voicing her take on what really happened during that ill-fated trip to Africa
in 1928, although ‘truth,’ as she points out, is completely subjective: “We
seven went into the jungle with guns in our hands and love in our hearts. I say
so now when there is no one left to contradict me” (p. 170). Their mission is
to hunt down and kill a single sacrificial gorilla in order to save as many
gorillas as possible in the future from big game hunters. The women are vital
to this endeavour as “If one of the girls should bring down a large male,” he
[Archer] said, “it will seem as exciting as shooting a cow. No man will cross a
continent merely to do something a pair of girls has already done” (p. 174) (a
rather dubious utilitarian and pragmatic approach to environmentalism!) .
The title of the story, ‘What I Didn’t See,’ seems purposefully ironic. The
omnipotent ‘I’ is in a much better position to critique the entire misadventure
than any of the men ever were, especially since she is subjected to the full
range of gendered expectations one can expect to find in 1928.
In a recent interview, Fowler explained how this short story
was actually a forerunner to her Man Booker shortlisted novel, We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves (2013) (which I also read for this study):
“They’re both based on actual events in the
checkered history of human/non-human animal relationships…exactly what it means
to be a primate. I think of that story as a sort of primate study where the
subjects are my small troop of humans.” Although I haven’t found
any sources which link Karen Joy Fowler officially with the ecofeminism movement,*
she appears to be deeply concerned with questions of sustainability and
sustainable development, equity, and social justice in her writing, themes which can be conceptually
linked with gender equality empirically through the experience of women, and
usefully analysed through the lens of feminism (Haynes & Murray, 2015). For
example, ‘What I Didn’t See’ is deeply concerned with both the impact of human
activity on primates in Africa (the massacre of the gorillas by ‘rational’ men)
and the silencing or alienation of the two women included on the trek (one disappears and the
other doesn’t speak on the issue for decades). Both the gorillas and the women are construed of as 'others.' In this way their plights run parallel to one another - there is a "connection between exploitation and degradation of the natural world and subordination and oppression of women" (Haynes, et al., 2015, p. 59).
Why only a ‘6’ applicability rating then? While it critiques
gender roles and unsettles the reader with its women/nature exploitation, in
this particular case, I’m not sure the text says enough on its own about
leadership to make it a truly useful piece for extended analysis.
*"Ecofeminism sees a connection between
exploitation and degradation of the natural world and subordination and
oppression of women, drawing from the green movement a concern about the impact
of human activity on the non-human world, and from feminism the view of
humanity as gendered in ways that subordinate, exploit and oppress women" (Haynes, et al., 2015, p. 59).
Other book I read that aren't applicable for this study:
We
Are All Completely Beside Ourselves (2013) by Karen Joy Fowler
Unless
(2003) by Carol Shields
Possession (1990) by A. S. Byatt
Possession (1990) by A. S. Byatt
Currently reading:
Base
Ten (2009) by Maryann Lesert
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2015) by Becky Chambers
Reference: Haynes, K., & Murray, A. (2015). Sustainability as a lens to explore gender equality: A missed opportunity for responsible management. In P. M. Flynn, K. Haynes, & M. A. Kilgour (Eds.), Integrating gender equality into business management and education: Lessons learned and challenges remaining (pp. 55-80). Sheffield, UK: Greenleaf Publishing Limited.