Storytelling as the ‘Other’ (Part 2)

Puzzles, Puzzling, Piecing. This is like slowly putting together a 5000-piece puzzle. Before the whole picture begins to materialise (is it a gorgeous scenic vista or a magical wonderland?), I have to build the edges. And in this lovely little analogy, the edges are the theory. And since I don’t quite know yet what the puzzle will end up looking like, I suppose it’s more like a Wasgij Puzzle!

In a previous entry, I included this quote: “The theory should illuminate a work, and a work should illuminate a theory” (Rapaport, 2011, p. 9). I would like to explore this claim further, investigating how it can be applied to women’s leadership development. What interpretative method/s could I apply to reading literature so as that the text will effectively illuminate issues surrounding women’s leadership? In this post I will take this question into the theoretical realm of post-structuralism and deconstruction, and consider the potential usefulness of these methods for my analysis.

But before answering this question, I want to take a step back and look at how Badaracco (my original inspiration for this project) has structured his analysis of literature in Questions of Character. As I’ve said before, I do find Badaracco's style to be a little too neat and idealistic, with the main problem being that he focuses on the primacy of the ‘leader;’ a ‘type’ of objective person who fits into a universal definition of ‘leadership.’ He writes: “The basic challenges of leaders appear so widely, perhaps even universally, because they reflect enduring aspects of leadership. One is the humanity of leaders – the hopes and fears, traits and instincts of the human nature we all share. The other is the unchanging agenda, in all times and places: developing a goal…and working with and through people to make it real” (p. 6, emphasis added).

The problem with this approach is that it collapses ‘leadership’, a collective process “which encompasses not only leaders but their followers and the context in which they come into contact, into ‘leaders’, into an individually-based unit of analysis” (Ladkin, 2010, p. 5). Subsequently, this ‘great person’ construct only serves to strengthen the widespread tendency in Western society to idealise leaders, implying that only a select few have the ‘right’ traits to exercise initiative (Gemmill & Oakley, 1992) [Excerpt from my Research Project].

However, I like the way he raises thought-provoking questions by making well-known novels and plays such as Death of a Salesman, Things Fall Apart and The Love of the Last Tycoon speak deeply about moral issues in a business context, substituting the carefully crafted, prosaic business case study with the multi-layered, messy reality of everyday life. 

I’ve chosen to look at Chapter 2: “How flexible is my moral code?” Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, as I’ve recently read this novel (which is excellent by the way! I even managed to get Mitchel to read it). The key question Badaracco poses in this chapter is: “Will my moral code help me make the right decisions for my organisation, even as business conditions change?”

The first thing that Badaracco does is problematize the notion of moral codes and the ‘moral compass,’ asking: Should leaders really be as moral as possible in all situations? To counter this popular supposition, he uses Okonkwo’s tragic story, which, in part, can be blamed on the African leader’s intransigent and uncompromising moral ideals. Badaracco points out that Okonkwo’s death raises a very difficult and uncomfortable question: “Should we abandon the familiar idea that good leaders have a moral compass? This is a disturbing question because we want leaders with moral clarity, who can guide and inspire organisations, especially in tough times. But Okonkwo’s moral compass is a liability when Umuofia is fighting for its survival” (p. 32).

Badaracco then goes on to discuss a contemporary case featuring a business leader who was uncompromising on his moral code, and rather than work to find alternative solutions, walked out at great cost to the firm and many of the employees. As an alternative to the popular moral compass trope, Badaracco claims that “leaders need moral codes that are as complex, varied, and subtle as the situations in which they often find themselves. This does not mean abandoning basic values or adopting moral relativism. It does mean…embracing a wider set of human values” (p. 33).

But how do you develop a sensitive, flexible moral compass? In answer to this question, Badaracco uses Okonkwo’s story as a lesson, drawing from it a series of questions which are intended for “honest reflection” on the reader’s behalf. I think what is so gripping about Badaracco’s approach here is that while there is an expectation that you have read the book/play/short story, he retells key moments from the story (and not in any particular linear order), making the narrative come alive and providing compelling and memorable examples. There is no 'obvious ending' or simplified moral lesson, such as those found in traditional business case studies (Boje, 2001). He also briefly considers the intertextuality of the book – the perspective and intentions of the author, the historical setting, the wider social issues the novel addresses, and the reader’s active role in producing and creating meaning from the text.

Badaracco spends the bulk of his discussion on five key reflective questions:

1. How deep are the emotional roots of my moral code?
2. What do my failures tell me?
3. How have I handled ethical surprises?
4. Do I have courage to reconsider?
5. Can I crystallise my convictions?

Each of these questions are explored using examples from Things Fall Apart and with the support of current leadership theory (although Badaracco doesn’t cite many, if any, of these ideas or theories). Badaracco is careful not to prescribe answers, but rather attempts to stimulate debate and self-analysis/reflexive thinking. It's a guide to a better ‘way of being’ in the world: “Okonkwo’s life shows the importance of a leader’s moral code and offers several basic ways for leaders to test the soundness of their own deep convictions. It also warns us against viewing moral codes as simple, mechanistic devices” (p. 51).

In summary then, Badaracco takes a popular business concept (in this case a leader's in-built ‘moral compass’), problematizes widespread ideas/norms surrounding individual morality, demonstrates why there are flaws in this way of thinking (using the story of Okonkwo’s downfall), and proposes possible solution/s in the form of self-improving reflexive questions. Essentially, he is providing aspiring leaders with ideas to help them become better, more ethical, moral leaders. It’s like bookclub on steroids basically, but for men.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I really do like Badaracco’s book – it’s practical, easy-to-read and insightful, and its depth, in terms of literary analysis, is something I really appreciate. However, the overall message is that we are all on a self-directed teleological journey towards an elusive future where you/me will have become the moral leader. If only me/myself/I work hard enough to develop emotional intelligence and authenticity, then there is no reason I won’t succeed as a leader in any environment and in any situation. As Ford, Harding and Learmonth (2008) explain: “Leadership discourses are very much concerned with changing the self so as to become this good leader. In being urged to develop self-awareness, the subject is required to analyse the self as if the self were an object that can be looked at, assessed and then worked on so as to change (p. 21).

At this point it’d be nice to say: ‘Well, this method and style works really well – it’s interesting,  engaging & Badaracco’s already proven it works, so let’s just substitute male narratives with female ones and discuss (using women's literary examples) how to become more collaborative, relational and authentic leaders.’ End of story. A beautifully written, practical thesis tested on a myriad of wonderful female leaders who found it vaguely ‘empowering.’

But unfortunately (or fortunately!) I can’t bring myself to write something so blatantly post-feminist; buying into the wider discourse of Western individualism and over-simplifying the pressing issues surrounding women’s leadership by relegating problems to the ‘I/me/you’. And so I would like to turn to feminist post-structuralism, deconstruction and critical reflexivity (scary names, huh?) as potential ‘methods’ or strategies for content analysis. 

Deconstructing Texts to Story ‘Others’

First off, what does deconstruction even mean? Although providing a set definition is, as Boje points out, rather contradictory to Derrida’s original intentions, deconstruction can be explained “as an analytic strategy that exposes in a systematic way multiple ways a text can be interpreted. Deconstruction is able to reveal ideological assumptions in a way that is particularly sensitive to the supressed interests of members of disempowered, marginalised groups” (Boje, 2001, p. 19).

According to Derrida, all Western thought is based on the idea of a centre – a Truth, Ideal Form, a Presence, etc… which guarantees all meaning (Powell, 1997, p. 21). So deconstruction can be employed as a method of reading/understanding that decentres and unmasks society’s ‘grand narratives’ or essentialist ‘Truths’ (i.e. the ‘great man’ theory of leadership or ‘heroic masculinity’), making room for less visible or marginalised voices and ideas (i.e. women’s perspectives, leadership as shared process, etc...). By enacting alternative narrative analysis that stories ‘Others’ and the author, new narratives in organisation studies that are “multi-voiced, rich with fragmentation and lacking linearity” can emerge and, ultimately, work to actively destabilise hegemonic masculinities and taken-for-granted assumptions and stereotypes (Boje, 2001, p. 9).

However, caution is still in order. As Boje points out: “If we just replace one centre with our own authoritative centre, we have fallen into our own trap. The point then is not to replace one centre with another, but to show how each centre is in a constant state of change and disintegration” (p. 19). Several of the novels/short stories/plays I’ve read do attempt to deconstruct central visions, essentialist concepts and transcendent principles. For example, Top Girls, ‘Sur,’ ‘The Matter of Seggri,’ Welcome to Thebes, etc… The play Welcome to Thebes and Le Guin’s ‘The Matter of Seggri’ are both particularly interesting in this regard as they explore a reversal of the binary opposition, overthrowing patriarchy with matriarchy. But rather than just replacing one hierarchy for another, both Le Guin and Buffini open up the analysis and encourage the reader to think differently about the adverse effects of socially-constructed, gendered societies.

How does Deconstruction Relate to Post-Structuralism?

Boje writes that “for me, deconstruction is a post-structuralist epistemology” (p. 19). But what is post-structuralism? In very brief terms:

In post-structuralist perspectives that build on the performative effect of language, there is no such thing as a passive reading of a text or looking at a film: the ‘gaze’ is actively engaged both in interpreting the text (and thus the reader becomes part of the text) and in the production of the self, or subjectivity, through the very act of looking. Thus reader and text are caught up in one another – the text confers subjectivity (Ford, Harding & Learmonth, 2008, p. 5).

By taking a post-structuralist stance, one can argue that reading, writing and talking are not innocent activities, but are actively productive (Ford, et al., 2008). For example, since popular leadership discourses are impregnated with images of the ‘hero’, visions informed by a battle between ‘the good hero’ and its binary opposite, the ‘dastardly villain’ (Ford, et al., 2008, p. 21), the performative effect is such that leader = leadership in the business world. Similarly, “where men have been regarded as logical, non-emotional, aggressive, occupiers of the public world” and women the opposite (nurturing, emotional, empathetic, unstable), “these descriptors not only create the genders they supposedly do no more than describe, but become norms by which we do not feel we are truly men or truly women if we do not live up to them” (Ford, et al., 2008, p. 132).

So the aim, in terms of leadership development, is not to provide people with ideas to help them think through how to be/come good leaders as Badaracco does (although this is still a legitimate and helpful exercise), but instead, as Ford, et al. (2008) recommend to look at “the demands that have been placed on them and the ways in which those demands may be influencing who they are, as individuals, as subjects, as people involved in the on-going process of constructing the persons who turn up at the workplace each morning" (p. 11).

This critical method of reflexivity, informed by deconstruction and post-structuralism, requires the reader/leader to go beyond the self and embrace wider social, moral and historical contexts, making what was hitherto invisible (stereotypes, expectations, prejudices, ‘centres’ and ‘grand narratives,' etc...) visible and open to critique and resituation (as Boje would say). I'd like to end with a quote by Ford, Harding & Learmonth (2008), the authors of Leadership as Identity: Constructions and Deconstructions, they write:

The encouragement of self-reflexivity and critical questioning of taken for granted aspects of the experience of managers [and leaders] may facilitate a determined critique among managers that can lead to resistance to organisational control. This may be possible through active interpretation of storied accounts of peoples’ experiences and reflexive dialogical critique in which many interpretations can be surfaced (p. 184).

And by ‘storied accounts,’ why not novels, short stories & plays which explore the complexity of women’s leadership from multi-dimensional, multi-voiced 'Other' perspectives?

References:

Badaracco, J. L. (2006). Questions of character: Illuminating the heart of leadership through literature. Boston, MA:  

Harvard Business School Publishing.

Boje, D. M. (2001). Narrative methods for organisational & communication research. London, UK: Sage Publications Ltd.

Ford, J., Harding, N., & Learmonth, M. (2008). Leadership as identity: Constructions and deconstructions. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Gemmill, G., & Oakley, J. (1992). Leadership: An alienating social myth? Human Relations, 45(2), 113-129.

Ladkin, D. (2010). Rethinking leadership: A new look at old leadership questions. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar 

Publishing Limited.

Thoughts from an Enthusiastic Reader (#goals)

Storytelling as the ‘Other’ (Part 2) is coming soon I promise! But I haven’t quite finished sorting through all the data yet to compose what I really want to say/explain/impart. So instead I thought I would give an update on my latest reading endeavours.

First and foremost on my mind has been a book called Modern Misogyny: Anti-Feminism in a Post-Feminist Era. This is a recent study on feminism (published Nov 2014) by Kristin J. Anderson, a Professor of Psychology at the University of Houston-Downtown in the US. I read this book over a cup or two of coffee in a single afternoon (it was honestly that good!). If you’re looking for a concise, well-researched, but easy-to-read summary of the state of Western feminism (or post-feminism) today, then this is a must-read.

While Anderson doesn’t discuss women’s leadership in any great detail, feminism is one of the key informing concepts I’ll be using in my research to justify the use of women’s literature and the value of women’s perspectives. Rather than being gender-neutral as many people would like to believe, leadership discourses are still informed, however implicitly, by hegemonic masculinity and “impregnated with concepts of the hero” (Ford, Harding & Learmonth, 2008, p. 116)

Anderson begins her analysis by discussing post-feminism, she writes that “…post-feminism is marked by the shift from feminism as a collective movement for women’s liberation to superficial empowerment of the individual and her choices” (p. 19). In this neoliberal, and increasingly narcissistic and self-focused culture, feminist goals, Anderson contends, have been depoliticised and collective action rendered largely irrelevant: “Post-feminism is about the individual woman – personal choice, individual expression, and individual career success – and no recognition of the need for a united and collective social movement to liberate all women and enact structural change” (p. 19).

Anderson then goes on to discuss a whole range of current feminist issues, including hyper sexualisation and pseudo ‘empowerment’ in Western culture, sexism as part of a wider system of inequality, the double bind faced by women in the workplace, popular understandings of the term ‘feminism’ (i.e. ‘man-hating’ feminism), and the ‘end of men’ and ‘boys crisis.’
The key point Anderson makes is that we still need feminism (and not post-feminism), and I think she does a fantastic job of explaining why.

I particularly like this salient quote: “Feminists tend to see women and men as not very different from each other, and this is threatening to the gender status quo. If, as feminism argues, women can do what previously only men were thought to be able to do, then you can see how some would perceive manhood as under assault and the perpetrator of the assault feminism. Manhood is exclusionary and, to the extent that men’s activities can be performed by women, it is no longer a special role, no longer male. If women can perform the men’s role, it must mean neither the qualities nor the role are so special after all” (p. 66).

As a result, a whole tribe of anti-feminist authors (for example, Kate O’Briene, Harvey Mansfield, Roy Baumeister, C. H. Sommers, to name a few) have emerged who are not interested in equality but rather “in keeping boys and men at the centre. But not any men, white men in particular” (p. 163). I really like how Anderson alludes to this idea of an identifiable “centre,” a centre that has the potential to be deconstructed and re-imagined. While replacing patriarchy with matriarchy, or male with female, is not my intention, there is definitely room to destabilise systems of inequality by exploring and emphasizing women’s narratives that disturb the centre.

We desperately need more self-labelled feminists in business who can see beyond the individualist rhetoric of post-feminism and recognise the need for structural change. As Anderson argues, feminists need to remain focused on raising women’s awareness of continued gender inequity in order to motivate young women to understand that work still needs to be done (p. 12).

Not convinced? Before you disagree with me, I challenge you to read Modern Misogyny (it’s at the public library so you have no excuse!).

Novels, Stories, Narratives…

I spent several hours last week trawling through all the women’s reading lists I could find and it turned up a few new exciting possibilities (Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks, Calling Invisible Women by Jeanne Ray, The Ten-Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer)! At this point I feel I'm abandoning the idea of using short stories…I have found one really excellent short story (‘Sur’ by Ursula Le Guin) but that’s it so far (note to self: Summer reading list = short story collections).

Latest reads/possibilities:

1. The Women’s Room by Marilyn French

Applicability Rating: 6.5/10

Relevant Themes: Expectations & perceptions, women’s work, feminism

Key Thoughts: Published in 1977 at the end of the ‘sexual revolution,’ The Women’s Room sparked outrage for its controversial and forward-thinking ideas on women’s rights and desires (addressing the ‘what women want’ question). Set in 1950s America, The Women’s Room follows the life of Mira Ward, a conventional and submissive young woman in a traditional marriage, and her gradual feminist awakening. Now considered a ‘classic’ piece of women’s literature (although I doubt many women my age would have even heard of it), French suggests in her opening introduction (written in 2006) that it is just as relevant for today’s audiences (think white, middleclass women) as it was 38 years ago. She notes that “despite many easements on female life in the west, the world’s ethos has moved in the opposite direction – toward more hostility between the sexes” (p. xvi). I’m not quite sure this is the case and whether or not The Women’s Room transcends time boundaries in quite the manner French intends (there is a fair amount of material which is concerned solely with issues addressed by second-wave feminism), however I did find this novel much more engaging and interesting than Mary McCarthy’s The Group (1963) which follows a similar coming-of-age, 'awakening' premise.

One of the best things about this novel are the lively discussions French crafts between Mira and her female friends at Harvard. These scenes make you wish you were part of their dynamic group! Underpinning all their debates is, as Val succinctly observes, the issue of equality between the sexes: “The simple truth – that men are only equal – can undermine a culture more devastatingly than any bomb.”

However, I am still a bit hesitant to use this book as part of the literary research section. First of all, it is very long (a mere 526 pages!) and rather than read huge chunks all at once, it’s more a book you want to read in snippets (it took me about 5 days rather than my normal 24-48 hours). Secondly, there is almost an insuperable amount of ideas discussed and contained within the text, from politics, to feminism, to marriage, to racism, to sex, etc...It moves between topics and themes with dizzying speed, leaving nothing sacred. It left me feeling unsettled, but at the same time revitalised. But I can imagine some women absolutely hating it! Nonetheless, French is a witty and observant storyteller who is entertaining and engaging even if she does spend pages and pages discussing women’s domestic work and the trials and tribulations of the middleclass housewife.

Would I use The Women’s Room then? I think it definitely has a lot of potential as a text which can work to deconstruct patriarchal/male-dominated grand narratives, but I can’t imagine women sitting down to read the full novel in as short a timeframe as they would, say, The Lifeboat or The Invention of Wings. With this consideration in mind, I may use it as a reference text (there are some excellent discussions in there!) or as a suggestion for further reading.

2. Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin

Applicability Rating: 5/10 (or, perhaps 8/10)

Relevant Themes: Gender roles, maternal leadership, crisis situations

Key Thoughts: I love Le Guin so I was very excited when I found she’d recently (in 2008) written a historical novel featuring, and even named for, an ‘historical’ female character. The novel relates the life of Lavinia, princess of Laurentum, a very minor character from Virgil’s epic poem the Aeneid. Sounds like a great premise, right? Unfortunately, Lavinia never emerges as the strong, decisive female character you want her to. Instead I found her underdeveloped and rather wooden, as well as unlikeable. She vacillates, cries, makes odd decisions, and is, ultimately, painfully complicit in her 'fate' (in other words, the decisions of men).

There were, of course, a lot of interesting, well-researched details in the story and I can see what Le Guin was trying to achieve by 'completing' or fleshing out one of Virgil's female characters – giving her a 'voice' as Queen of Latium (filling Le Guin’s “immense white area”). But somehow the whole story fell flat, for me at least, due to the fatalistic tendencies of its heroine (although I’m not sure I can even call her a heroine – she didn’t really do anything). In terms of women’s leadership, Lavinia does exhibit a form of maternal leadership for her ‘people,’ but readily abandons her ‘power’ in favour of her son. Everything she does is vis-à-vis men, even though she has so much potential to break out of their confines and rules. Perhaps this is a good discussion point (e.g. why are women often so complicit in their own oppression?), however, I think Le Guin’s ‘Sur’ makes a better contender for my research project. Although perhaps there is room for simultaneously analysing multiple Le Guin stories? I have her non-fiction book, Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places (1989) so I will test the potential of this idea further as I read her critical essays.

I’ve just finished reading The Boston Girl (2014) by Anita Diamant (author of The Red Tent) and I’ve also skimmed Top Girls (1982) by Caryl Churchill for the third time. They are both possibilities as well but I’ll leave my reviews of them for the next entry.

Sometimes it seems that I am reading a lot of women’s literature which won’t be applicable or useful for my study. However, as Jane Smiley (the Pulitzer Prize winning author of A Thousand Acres) points out: “Sometimes the reader has to read novels that don’t work for her and think about why they don’t work – representative lists, unlike “my favourite” lists, have to include uncongenial works” (quote found in Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel, 2005, p. 271). I admire Smiley’s approach to literature – she read 100 ‘great’ novels over the course of 3 years and then proceeded to write about her experience and the effect/s the different books had on her as a reader (reflective thinking at its best!). 

What else I’ve read…which won’t work:    

              

• Property by Valerie Martin (2003)

This short novel won the Orange Prize for women’s fiction in 2003 and I can understand why! It’s a very gripping tale set in New Orleans in 1828 against the backdrop of civil unrest and slave uprisings. Property tells the story of Manon Gaudet, the unhappy wife of a plantation owner, and Sarah, Manon’s house slave whom she brought into the marriage. The drama is centred on the fact that Sarah is not only Manon’s slave, but also her husband’s unwilling mistress, causing resentment on both Manon and Sarah’s sides. There is no happy ending to this haunting tale, in fact it is quite grim and heart-breaking in the way it explores humanity's predilection for cruelty. However, it doesn’t say anything about the ‘women question’ or leadership in particularly. Its strength lie is in its historical analysis and narrative power rather than in topical relevancy.

• House Girl by Tara Conklin (2013)

Conklin’s debut novel is a reasonably well-written & mildly interesting story, but overall it lacked finesse and depth. The narrative switched between the late-1800s, where it followed the unhappy tale of a young slave woman, and the 2000s where it focuses on the story of a young, outgoing, annoyingly ‘perfect’ female lawyer who is trying to 'survive' in a male-dominated law firm. While Lina, the litigation lawyer, makes some pertinent (although rather cliché) remarks on male and female dynamics in the workplace, there is nothing in particular that makes this story stand out. It's more a journey of uninspiring self-discovery for the not very likeable lawyer and a tragically (though predictable) ending for the fictitious slave girl. Ultimately it fails to engage the reader and, I feel, trivialises the horrors of slavery in the way it flits between meaningless details about Lina’s contemporary existence and the slave girl's sad story. It's a piece I wouldn't be quick to recommend.

• How to Be Both by Ali Smith (2014)

Now, I was very excited about this book when I first got my hands on it. Shortlisted for the Man Booker prize in 2014, and the winner of the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction, How to Be Both promised to explore gender boundaries and perceptions in a new and exciting way. Unfortunately I didn’t make it even half way through before I became extremely frustrated with Smith's disjointed, overly complicated narrative style. Yes, it is a clever post-modern ‘work of art’, but I just didn’t like it. [Note: I actually went back and reread this book several months later and garnered a lot more from it the second time round, in fact, I might dare to say I even enjoyed it!]

• A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley (1991)

On the other hand, I did love A Thousand Acres, the 1992 Pulitzer prize-winning novel by Jane Smiley. Following the basic plotline of Shakespeare’s King Lear, Smiley tells the story of an aging farmer (a patriarchal and misogynistic white man) who offers his prosperous Iowa farm to his three daughters. Tragic (although not quite as tragic as Shakespeare’s classic), dark and unpredictable (well, unless you’re familiar with King Lear), the novel explores family power relations and the transformation of Ginny (the oldest daughter and narrator) from a naive and weak pawn in her family’s power struggle, to an independent and strong woman. Why won’t it work for my analysis? Ultimately, I think the novel says a lot more about trauma and family relationships than leadership, so to reduce it to a ‘lesson’ on leadership would distort its more salient themes. But I highly recommend this book if you haven’t read it already!

I am more than halfway through reading and note-taking for my section on Women and Leadership. A couple more texts to go through and 8-10 journals. The plan is to finish the research by midweek and then work on a comprehensive outline. It may be a little bit ambitious to try and have the whole section written by the end of October, but I least want to have half of it done by then! #goals 

References:

Anderson, K. J. (2015). Modern misogyny: Anti-feminism in a post-feminist era. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Ford, J., Harding, N., & Learmonth, M. (2008). Leadership as identity: Constructions and deconstructions. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Storytelling as the 'Other' (Part 1)

I often like to start essays with a quote or short anecdote. I see it as an act of centering oneself; a moment of mindfulness in the swirling mass of thoughts and possibilities:

One of the questions I still haven’t fully resolved in terms of my thesis outline is: How am I going to read the literature? What am I really hoping to achieve and demonstrate in my analysis of the literary texts? And I think what’s really important about this section, is that I write what I want to write. Essentially, everything I write should be authentic for and meaningful to me as well as the reader.

When I was desperately trying to finish my research project last semester (and yes, surprisingly for me, it was rather last minute!), one of the parts that frustrated me and I struggled with the most was applying the leadership theory to the short story. As I was writing that section I knew deep down that it wasn’t what I wanted to write. It didn’t really have any meaning for me, as both author and reader, and subsequently, it felt rather contrived (which showed!). One of my other key concerns was that by reading a cultural work in this way, especially since 'leadership' was a secondary concern to racial issues in the short story, I was reducing it to fit a neat model that was too reductive and subsequently, overly simplistic. 

I’ve noticed that when I am writing merely to achieve a grade, no matter how technically good the piece is, it will never be excellent. In these cases, there is always a feeling of stiltedness. 

Disconnection. Disengagement...No moment/s of epiphany. The ‘so what’ remains frustratingly elusive.

So I feel that more than anything, I want what I write about for, say, The Lifeboat or The Invention of Wings, to be engaging, persuasive, provocative and authentic/genuine/true for me as well as others. I think I’ve been getting too caught up in the idea that I have to completely divorce literary analysis from my subjective ‘interpretative’ readings of the texts. That my analysis has to be strikingly precise and wholly relevant to business leaders – raising questions which will instantly encourage reflective practice and, ultimately, ‘change' people for the better. And this isn’t a bad goal. In fact, this is what I believe good literature has the power to do. But is it the right or only objective for this thesis, at this particular point in time?

I’ve been looking back at some of my favourite English literature essays, particularly the ones concerned with thematic analysis and sociological criticism, trying to decipher what exactly made them so compelling (and why I loved writing them!!).

For example, in my essay “‘Voicing’ and ‘Identifying’ Sexual Violence in the Congo and Iraq” the problem/issue presented is political: “In patriarchal societies and cultures, the battle for domination and nation-wide control is played out on the powerless and faceless female body.”

But women’s literature has the power to speak about this issue in a different, more inclusive and expressive way than purely factual reports or non-fiction ever can. And it is through the medium of theatre that two female authors, Heather Raffo & Lynn Nottage, are able to give the previously ‘faceless female bodies’ powerful “new ‘voices’ and identities, freeing them to tell their own stories and become more than just another rape statistic.”

Similarly, in another essay titled “The Struggle for Author/ity: Interrogating the Colonising Acts of Writing and Reading in J.M. Coetzee’s Foe,” I investigated the novel’s overarching concerns with the colonising activity of writing and reading and subsequently, the ensuing power struggle for authorship and identity. The main thrust of the essay was to consider how Foe engaged with the ‘reader’ and involved him/her in the reading and writing process.

Rather than separating ideas/theory from close textual analysis, I considered the methods Coetzee used to convey his message and the affect this has on the reader. By writing in metatextual form, using opposing binaries and changing narrative patterns throughout the novel, Coetzee places the reader in a unique position, spurring him/her on to question the very nature of language and the ideologies which inform his/her own beliefs on patriarchy, colonialism, feminism and race.

I think this form of theoretical + textual analysis leads on naturally to deeper reflective practice and discussion, for example:

In the end then, Coetzee challenges the reader to demystify the writer’s art, to find within Foe traces of other sounds or voices, and to interrogate any attempt at authority (Maher 40). This small journey of discovery leads to greater questions about the struggle for authority and power in colonised nations, as well as the ideological assumptions that encode a reader’s own stories and beliefs. Like Susan, “I” must ask, “Who is speaking me? To what order do I belong? And you: who are you?” (133).

So what does this mean for me? How can I potentially harness this ‘method’ of analysis in my thesis?

In The Literary Theory Toolkit (2011), Herman Rapaport explains that in the application of a critical approach to literary analysis, ‘examples’ or selected texts/narratives should work in such a way that they help explain and develop a theory that to many people makes no sense without a ‘key’: “The theory should illuminate a work, and a work should illuminate a theory” (p. 9). Rapaport goes on to describe “art’s purpose,” noting that ‘art’ has the potential to “revolutionise our perception in such a way that we won’t see the world as we ordinarily do. In this sense, it is as if literary language itself were a sort of revolutionary hero that reforms the fallen (automatic, habitual) thinking” (p. 15).

In some ways this is very similar to what Badaracco attempts to achieve in Questions of Character, particularly with regards to what it means and requires to be/come a more ethical and moral leader in the twenty-first century. However, his analysis of classic literature tends to lack depth in terms of leadership theory, as well as focusing more on ‘great man’ constructs of leader = leadership. This is most likely because the book is geared towards mainstream audiences who want a ‘practical’ step-by-step guide as opposed to an academically rigorous approach.

However, by thoughtfully incorporating theory on women’s leadership with storytelling (or re-telling?) and textual/rhetorical analysis, I believe the novels/plays/short stories I select will be able to 'voice' something important about contemporary women’s leadership and followership. Especially since good literature can articulate alternatives to dominant worldviews by making thought as felt and feeling as thought (Williams, 1977).

Rather than being purely reflective (as I tried to do in my research project), my role (as I tread the fine line between leadership specialist/management facilitator and literary analyst) should be to eloquently summarise, illuminate, analyse, and provide questions which give female leaders and aspiring leaders a ‘key’ which will help them both understand leadership from a different perspective (the voice of the ‘Other’) and encourage meaningful reflective practice. Creating ‘space’ for the reader to engage in new ways with women’s leadership issues and “working to relate the extraordinariness of imaginative literature to the ordinariness of cultural processes” (Filmer, 2003, p. 199).

I will leave it at that for now (along with another inspiring quote, this time by Ursula K. Le Guin!) as I have a whole lot more reading to do on storytelling and narrative methods…Part 2 will follow as soon as I have completed the next stage of research! 

References:

Filmer, P. (2003). “Structures of feeling and socio-cultural formations: The significance of literature and experience to Raymond Williams's sociology of culture.” The British Journal of Sociology, 54, 199-219.

Rapaport, H. (2011). The literary theory toolkit: A compendium of concepts and methods. Chichester, UK. John Wiley & Sons Limited.

Williams, R. (1977). “Structures of Feeling.” Marxism and Literature. Oxford, UK: Oxford UP.

Still Time for Butterflies

15 novels.

3 short stories.

2 plays.

I’m starting to form the outline for my selection criteria. While I started my reading with a sketchy criteria already in place (i.e. stories written by women, strong female lead characters, identifiable moments of leadership, etc…), I decided not to stifle the wide array of options before getting a feel for what was available. Unlike Badaracco who chose ‘serious’ literature based on two rough tests: The “test of time,” are they classics?, and the test of “careful reading,” that is, do they have depth and richness? I always knew I wanted my selection to extend beyond ‘classics.’ I’ve scoured lists like:

• 75 Books Every Women Should Read: The Complete List
• Are these the 50 most influential books by women?
• 21^st Century Literature by Women
• 21 Books from the last 5 years that every woman should read
• The life-changing novels every woman should read
• Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction
• The Norton Anthology of Women’s Literature
• 100 Great Plays for Women
• Women's Fiction: A Guide to Popular Reading Interests
• Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel
• Etc...!

But now, having read at least 20 pieces of women’s literature (most of which would classify, however subtly, as ‘feminist fiction’) and poured over summaries for over 50, the process itself has naturally brought forth a set of additional (unifying) criteria. I will outline them briefly here:

• Well-reviewed, award-winning literature. Now, when I began this project, I wasn’t being very fussy about reviews or literary critiques…but, after reading a couple of popular fiction pieces which would never ever make it onto any classics list, I’ve refined my selection to books which have received some recognition from the ‘powers that be.’ Essentially, Badaracco’s ‘depth & richness’ test.
• Historical elements/historical figures. This isn’t a be all & end all prescription, but historical fiction, whether being simply set in the past (i.e. 1950’s America, 1914 on the Atlantic, or the 1960s in the Dominican Republic) or featuring ‘real’ historical women (i.e. Sarah Grimke, Minerva Mirabal, Dinah daughter of Jacob, etc…), tend to be more focused on what it means to step beyond boundaries, expectations & the traditional delineations of femininity.
• Grounded in reality & featuring a linear narrative. I really do love Ursula Le Guin’s science fiction stories (which is why there are several of her books/short stories on the list!) and ‘slice of life’ / alternative, indie pieces, however the stories with the clearest ‘moments’ of leadership and tension in terms of women’s experiences, are the ones following a conventional story line / plot and with rich narrative and dialogue.
• Written after 1980 (or maybe 1970?). The pre-1980 pieces I’ve read are either exclusively focused on women’s rights (second wave feminism) or are so well-known & loved (think Jane Eyre, Pride & Prejudice, Gone With the Wind, Middlemarch) that I feel there is little room to be creative/untraditional in exploring them; it’s almost like desecrating something holy.

Recent Reading Endeavours: 

1. The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd

Applicability Rating: 9/10

Relevant Themes: Authenticity, expectations & perceptions, overcoming obstacles

Key Thoughts: This is a truly beautiful story which traces the events of Sarah Grimke's life & how she 'invents her wings' as both an abolitionist speaker and a women's rights activist. It is a story of overcoming the expectations and roles society traps/enslaves you in. Narrated from both Sarah and Hetty's perspectives, The Invention of Wings is simplistic in its thematic concerns & yet powerful in the way it thoughtfully examines injustice, hypocrisy, and authenticity. No easy resolutions are proposed, and in fact, it ends rather abruptly, especially considering how long was spent on Sarah & Hetty’s childhood. However, for me at least, I enjoyed how it explored what it means to find one’s own ‘authentic self’ in the mess of societal expectations and when evil is masked by 'righteousness' and tradition. I particularly love that Sarah is not a heroine in the conventional, kicking-ass sense. She makes poor decisions and is, at times, hindered by almost debilitating fear and anxiety. For me, the most profound moment of the novel is when she observes (after so long searching for her purpose) that: "What I feared was the immensity of it all - a female abolition agent traveling the country...I wanted to say, Who am I to do this, a woman? But that voice was not mine. It was Father's voice. It was Thomas'. It belonged to Israel, to Catherine, and to Mother. It belonged to the church in Charleston and the Quakers. It would not, if I could help it, belong to me" (p. 320).

2. Welcome to Thebes by Moira Buffini

Applicability Rating: 8/10

Relevant Themes: Power & Status, women's leadership, crisis situations, peace & war

Key Thoughts: Set in the present day but inspired by ancient myth, Welcome to Thebes offers a passionate exploration of an encounter between the world's richest (Athens) and the world's poorest (Thebes) countries in the aftermath of a brutal war.

This play encompasses so much more than women's leadership in its stark & brutal portrayal of war torn 'Thebes' (an unnamed African nation). However, in choosing to make the elected democratic cabinet all female (with one ‘token’ man) and led by a new female president, Moira Buffini explores the double-bind that women face in positions of leadership and the ways their positions of power are challenged by men and women alike.

3. The Matter of Seggri by Ursula K. Le Guin

Applicability Rating: 7.5/10

Relevant Themes: Gender role reversal, matriarchal society, female superiority, collaboration between women

Key Thoughts: In this thought-provoking science fiction story, Le Guin experiments with gender roles, imagining a matriarchal society where traditional signs of male superiority – strength, aggression, competitiveness, sexual dominance – signify social inferiority. By deconstructing the warrior identity and masculine traits commonly idealised by Western society and asking what would a society be like if the male sex were only used for pleasure & pro-creation, Le Guin works towards a reconciliation of the sexes.

Disturbing, satirical, and at times sexually explicit, Le Guin touches on both the negative and positive aspects of an all-female run society. Unfortunately, due to its sexual overtones and explicit language, it's not likely to be a story that everyone will enjoy. There is also a lack of character development as it switches abruptly between different perspectives and stories.

 4. In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez

Applicability Rating: 8.5/10

Relevant Themes: Relational leadership between women, courage & ambition, authentic leadership & followership

Key Thoughts: I thoroughly enjoyed this book! I had no prior knowledge of the Mirabal sisters and their tragic death, but Alvarez vividly portrays their lives and the events leading up to their assassination during Trujillo's dictatorship in the Dominican Republic in stunning detail. A few of the particularly pertinent discussion points include the development of solidarity between women and what it means to 'have courage' and to become courageous. What contextual factors contribute to the process of 'becoming' a leader, and particularly, a female leader? 

In a postscript at the end of the novel titled 'Still Time for Butterflies', Julia Alvarez writes:

“Often when we read about brave women like the Mirabal sisters, we think that in order to advance the cause of freedom we have to do grand things. But in fact, if we look at the lives of these four sisters, we realise that all of them came to their courage in small, incremental steps, little moments and challenges we all face every day of our lives. In some ways, we become brave, almost by accident. Something happens and we respond to that challenge courageously and compassionately. But really, all along the way to that something big happening, we’ve been cultivating a compassionate heart, a listening and big-hearted imagination. And one of the ways to cultivate such an elastic and inclusive imagination is by reading books.”  

And this is what my reading list looks like now! Yay!!

Title:	Author:	Year:	Type:
A Room of One’s Own	Virginia Woolf	1926	Extended essay
The Poisonwood Bible	Barbara Kingslover	1998	Novel
The Women’s Room	Marilyn French	1977	Novel
Top Girls	Caryl Churchill	1982	Play
The Secret Life of Bees	Sue Monk Kidd	2002	Novel
The Group	Mary McCarthy	1963	Novel
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie	Muriel Spark	1969	Novel
Cousins	Patricia Grace	1998	NZ Fiction
Their Eyes Were Watching God	Zora Neale Hurston	1937	Novel
The Left Hand of Darkness	Ursula Le Guin	1969	Sci-fi Novel
How to Be Both	Ali Smith	2014	Novel
Outline	Rachel Cusk	2010	Novel
The Real & The Unreal: Short Stories	Ursula Le Guin		Sci-fi Short Stories
Welcome to Thebes	Moira Buffini	2010	Play
The Woman in the Window	Alana De Greon	1998	Play
Pax	Deborah Levy	1985	Play
girl.	Megan Mostyn-Brown	2004	Play
The Red Tent	Anita Diamant	1997	Novel
In the Time of Butterflies	Julia Alvarez	1994	Novel
Olive Kitteridge	Elizabeth Strout	2008	Novel
The Lifeboat	Charlotte Rogan	2012	Novel
The Invention of Wings	Sue Monk Kidd	2014	Novel
The Miniaturist	Jessie Burton	2014	Novel