I should probably have looked into Carl Rollyson’s other books before buying American Isis, but I was so excited when I searched “Sylvia Plath” on Amazon a few weeks ago and saw not one but three new books being released in early 2013, I just had to have them all, lack of reviews be damned. So, I got busy pre-ordering; after all, I can always cancel later if I change my mind, and I’m not charged until the book ships.
This is rather flimsy logic. I know this. It is what happens when one has obsessions and just a teensy bit of money to indulge them. I started reading AI as soon as it arrived and finished by the next night. I think even if I hadn’t been eager to start reading other new books I still would have finished this within a day, mostly because it was a light read that offered no new insights, at least no substantive insights. There were superficial claims and speculations a plenty, however. My favorite was Rollyson’s habit of randomly comparing Plath to Marilyn Monroe (whom he also wrote a biography about…so I guess he wants everyone to know that). It isn’t that such a comparison can’t be made, in fact that’s part of what drew me to this book, but rather that Rollyson never really makes it. He just states a fact about Plath, such as something she said or a dream she had, and then pulls in a random fact about Monroe that kind of, sort of, maybe if you turn your head and squint proves there’s a similarity between them.
I have to admit, I’d really like to read a book comparing Plath and Monroe. I think there’s a lot of potential there, and I’m not saying that just because I love them both. I think the way they’re remembered offers a great point of comparison. To nonfans, Monroe is a sex symbol who may or may not have been murdered by the Kennedys. Or did she kill herself? Oh, she also made some movies. And wasn’t she the first Playboy centerfold? To a nonfan Plath is that crazy woman who wrote a book about being crazy. It’s really depressing, too. And there were some poems about Nazis and daddy issues. Didn’t she kill herself?
It may just be me, but the tendency to focus on their mental illness(es) and deaths rather than their work, something which both dedicated so much of themselves to and put so much effort into improving, even when, in Monroe’s case especially the effort was mocked (like she had talent anyway—pretty, that’s what she was!) along with the fact that both were, as much as they may have fought against it at times, a product of postwar America makes an interesting jumping off point. I may be over-thinking things a bit, but I'd certainly rather read a book like that than another dissecting why their deaths were Inevitable.
I read Mad Girl's Love Song as well, but I don't really want to bother with it right now. It didn't make the same impression on me as AI, positively or negatively. It had good moments and overreaching moments, but at least it stayed interesting and offered new ideas.
Petal Pusher was a book I didn't expect to like but ended up loving. I bought it on a whim two years ago but didn't get around to reading it until a few weeks ago. I bought it because the dust jacket said it was the memoir of the leader of Zuzu's Petals, an alternative all-woman pop band from the early 1990s. If you haven't heard of them, you're not alone. They remind me a bit of Belly but sweeter and less quirky. They're first album, When No-One's Looking, was a pretty big hit for an indie record with almost no promotion and that sounded absolutely nothing like the sound of the times.
Laurie Lindeen knows how to tell a story, and that's what makes this book so fantastic. I wish every woman from Jennifer Finch to Poly Styrene would write a book about her life and experiences in music, and I'd be happy if they only turned out half as good as this one. Petal Pusher follows Lindeen and her friends as they navigate their post-college years, go from boring job to boring job, and painstakingly turn their love of music into a love of making their own music. It also delves into Lindeen's personal issues, such as her parents divorce and being diagnosed with MS in her early twenties. I particularly like the way she describes learning how to play guitar. She doesn't become great at it overnight or even after a few years; just being able to stand up and play three chords in a row is an accomplishment to her.
I tried learning to play the guitar about 8 years ago, but it didn't go very far. I can play the intro to Smells Like Teen Spirit. I can play Zero. That's pretty much it. I gave up trying after a few weeks. I was really uncomfortable in the all-male environment I had to enter in order to get lessons. It was a lot like what happens to Joan Jett in The Runaways, only more subtle. I wasn't a very assertive person at that point.
I'm digressing.
Basically, I like that Lindeen doesn't try to pretend her band become successful overnight. I like that she doesn't pretend they didn't encounter misogyny. I really like that she explores rock's ultimate sin for a woman: being associated with a successful male while trying to have a career of your own. In her case it's the repercussions of being Paul Westerberg's girlfriend (and eventual wife) while trying to front a band that's fianlly starting to be successful. I enjoy books by and about male musicians; the two-thirds of a shelf taken up by books on Nirvana alone can attest to that, but they don't interest me nearly as much as books by and about female musicians. In part this is because men's stories are everywhere and are supposed to provide the template for...everything. If I want a man's point of view, I don't have to try very hard to find it. The problem is, I don't have a man's point of view, and therefore it doesn't always satisfy. Also, the dearth of books about women in music--in any genre--reinforces the idea that women have made no significant contributions to music. I realize I'm rambling a bit, but I find it a little fucked up that until age 14 I thought women in music was something that had just begun in the late 1990s. Maybe I was just stupid, but I think my ignorance had more to do with the lack of material on them than it did a lack of curiosity on my part. To be fair, a few books have been published since then, but with few exceptions, they're forgettable, half-researched and poorly written. I don't want to read about how revolutionary Hole were and have it be left at that. I want a substantive analysis of just why they were revolutionary and how Courtney screaming about rape and violence and death made people very uncomfortable while it was screaming out the angst of a generation when Kurt did it.
I was going to talk a little more about the books I've been reading, but now I think I'll save that for another day and go dream about writing academic papers on Pretty on the Inside.
This is rather flimsy logic. I know this. It is what happens when one has obsessions and just a teensy bit of money to indulge them. I started reading AI as soon as it arrived and finished by the next night. I think even if I hadn’t been eager to start reading other new books I still would have finished this within a day, mostly because it was a light read that offered no new insights, at least no substantive insights. There were superficial claims and speculations a plenty, however. My favorite was Rollyson’s habit of randomly comparing Plath to Marilyn Monroe (whom he also wrote a biography about…so I guess he wants everyone to know that). It isn’t that such a comparison can’t be made, in fact that’s part of what drew me to this book, but rather that Rollyson never really makes it. He just states a fact about Plath, such as something she said or a dream she had, and then pulls in a random fact about Monroe that kind of, sort of, maybe if you turn your head and squint proves there’s a similarity between them.
I have to admit, I’d really like to read a book comparing Plath and Monroe. I think there’s a lot of potential there, and I’m not saying that just because I love them both. I think the way they’re remembered offers a great point of comparison. To nonfans, Monroe is a sex symbol who may or may not have been murdered by the Kennedys. Or did she kill herself? Oh, she also made some movies. And wasn’t she the first Playboy centerfold? To a nonfan Plath is that crazy woman who wrote a book about being crazy. It’s really depressing, too. And there were some poems about Nazis and daddy issues. Didn’t she kill herself?
It may just be me, but the tendency to focus on their mental illness(es) and deaths rather than their work, something which both dedicated so much of themselves to and put so much effort into improving, even when, in Monroe’s case especially the effort was mocked (like she had talent anyway—pretty, that’s what she was!) along with the fact that both were, as much as they may have fought against it at times, a product of postwar America makes an interesting jumping off point. I may be over-thinking things a bit, but I'd certainly rather read a book like that than another dissecting why their deaths were Inevitable.
I read Mad Girl's Love Song as well, but I don't really want to bother with it right now. It didn't make the same impression on me as AI, positively or negatively. It had good moments and overreaching moments, but at least it stayed interesting and offered new ideas.
Petal Pusher was a book I didn't expect to like but ended up loving. I bought it on a whim two years ago but didn't get around to reading it until a few weeks ago. I bought it because the dust jacket said it was the memoir of the leader of Zuzu's Petals, an alternative all-woman pop band from the early 1990s. If you haven't heard of them, you're not alone. They remind me a bit of Belly but sweeter and less quirky. They're first album, When No-One's Looking, was a pretty big hit for an indie record with almost no promotion and that sounded absolutely nothing like the sound of the times.
Laurie Lindeen knows how to tell a story, and that's what makes this book so fantastic. I wish every woman from Jennifer Finch to Poly Styrene would write a book about her life and experiences in music, and I'd be happy if they only turned out half as good as this one. Petal Pusher follows Lindeen and her friends as they navigate their post-college years, go from boring job to boring job, and painstakingly turn their love of music into a love of making their own music. It also delves into Lindeen's personal issues, such as her parents divorce and being diagnosed with MS in her early twenties. I particularly like the way she describes learning how to play guitar. She doesn't become great at it overnight or even after a few years; just being able to stand up and play three chords in a row is an accomplishment to her.
I tried learning to play the guitar about 8 years ago, but it didn't go very far. I can play the intro to Smells Like Teen Spirit. I can play Zero. That's pretty much it. I gave up trying after a few weeks. I was really uncomfortable in the all-male environment I had to enter in order to get lessons. It was a lot like what happens to Joan Jett in The Runaways, only more subtle. I wasn't a very assertive person at that point.
I'm digressing.
Basically, I like that Lindeen doesn't try to pretend her band become successful overnight. I like that she doesn't pretend they didn't encounter misogyny. I really like that she explores rock's ultimate sin for a woman: being associated with a successful male while trying to have a career of your own. In her case it's the repercussions of being Paul Westerberg's girlfriend (and eventual wife) while trying to front a band that's fianlly starting to be successful. I enjoy books by and about male musicians; the two-thirds of a shelf taken up by books on Nirvana alone can attest to that, but they don't interest me nearly as much as books by and about female musicians. In part this is because men's stories are everywhere and are supposed to provide the template for...everything. If I want a man's point of view, I don't have to try very hard to find it. The problem is, I don't have a man's point of view, and therefore it doesn't always satisfy. Also, the dearth of books about women in music--in any genre--reinforces the idea that women have made no significant contributions to music. I realize I'm rambling a bit, but I find it a little fucked up that until age 14 I thought women in music was something that had just begun in the late 1990s. Maybe I was just stupid, but I think my ignorance had more to do with the lack of material on them than it did a lack of curiosity on my part. To be fair, a few books have been published since then, but with few exceptions, they're forgettable, half-researched and poorly written. I don't want to read about how revolutionary Hole were and have it be left at that. I want a substantive analysis of just why they were revolutionary and how Courtney screaming about rape and violence and death made people very uncomfortable while it was screaming out the angst of a generation when Kurt did it.
I was going to talk a little more about the books I've been reading, but now I think I'll save that for another day and go dream about writing academic papers on Pretty on the Inside.
