Salon | Letters to the editor

_______________FOR GIRLS ONLY BY LAURA GREEN (10/17/97)

Like Laura Green, I grew up reading lots of "just for girls" books. I don't remember all the ones she mentions, but I read my share of Nancy Drew and Cherry Ames books, and I certainly remember wondering about the mysteries of dating as represented in these and other books for kids. (Does anybody else wonder why so many Disney movies feature a romance plot?) When I left those books behind I, too, "graduated" to female fantasy, historical romance and mystery -- in addition to Phyllis Whitney and Victoria Holt, Georgette Heyer was a favorite, and later Dorothy L. Sayers. It's hard for me to say this was in any way bad for me -- I have a career now in literature and I think that early reading played a part in my career choice.
But I wonder -- and the article doesn't touch on this -- if I would want my daughter, now 7, to read the same books I did. (A friend who forbids her daughter Barbies says, "I turned out OK playing with them, but I could have been better!") I confess to feeling a nostalgic pleasure as I read her the "Little House" series, but I found myself cringing at the gender assumptions, the representations of Native Americans, the uncritical embrace of the "pioneer spirit." Same thing, sort of, when I read her fairy tales, or "Caddie Woodlawn," or "Anne of Green Gables." This last I don't remember reading myself, and I looked forward to it as a "plucky girl" story. But when I read it to my daughter, I was bitterly disappointed at Anne's increasing "feminization" as the novel progressed, and on its growing emphasis on the budding romance with Gilbert Blythe. A teenage friend tells me not to read the next one in the series because it's all about Anne with him; I'm taking her advice.
Finally, I'd rather have my daughter (and my son, though at 11 weeks it's a little early for him) reading than not. As a critic myself I know there's something "wrong" in every book; the trick, I suppose, is to talk about what's "wrong," and perhaps to expose her to all of it so she can make her own choices. (I don't forbid Barbies, either, but I do comment on their stupid feet, their weird breast size, etc.) And I do think it's working. One day I was reading her a chapter of "Little Town on the Prairie" in which Pa takes Laura to the Independence Day celebrations; in the story, the Declaration of Independence is read to the crowd, so I followed along. When I got to "all men are created equal," Mariah tugged at my sleeve and said, "But Mommy, what about the girls?" No amount of talk could convince her that they were included in that generic "men," and finally I couldn't argue with her. When she writes a novel, they'll be included.
-- Elisabeth Rose Gruner
Assistant professor of English & women's studies
University of Richmond
SALON | Oct. 22, 1997

R E C E N T L Y+| GROUND THE ASTRONAUTS By David Beers

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_______________FOR GIRLS ONLY BY LAURA GREEN (10/17/97)
	Like Laura Green, I grew up reading lots of "just for girls" books. I don't remember all the ones she mentions, but I read my share of Nancy Drew and Cherry Ames books, and I certainly remember wondering about the mysteries of dating as represented in these and other books for kids. (Does anybody else wonder why so many Disney movies feature a romance plot?) When I left those books behind I, too, "graduated" to female fantasy, historical romance and mystery -- in addition to Phyllis Whitney and Victoria Holt, Georgette Heyer was a favorite, and later Dorothy L. Sayers. It's hard for me to say this was in any way bad for me -- I have a career now in literature and I think that early reading played a part in my career choice. But I wonder -- and the article doesn't touch on this -- if I would want my daughter, now 7, to read the same books I did. (A friend who forbids her daughter Barbies says, "I turned out OK playing with them, but I could have been better!") I confess to feeling a nostalgic pleasure as I read her the "Little House" series, but I found myself cringing at the gender assumptions, the representations of Native Americans, the uncritical embrace of the "pioneer spirit." Same thing, sort of, when I read her fairy tales, or "Caddie Woodlawn," or "Anne of Green Gables." This last I don't remember reading myself, and I looked forward to it as a "plucky girl" story. But when I read it to my daughter, I was bitterly disappointed at Anne's increasing "feminization" as the novel progressed, and on its growing emphasis on the budding romance with Gilbert Blythe. A teenage friend tells me not to read the next one in the series because it's all about Anne with him; I'm taking her advice. Finally, I'd rather have my daughter (and my son, though at 11 weeks it's a little early for him) reading than not. As a critic myself I know there's something "wrong" in every book; the trick, I suppose, is to talk about what's "wrong," and perhaps to expose her to all of it so she can make her own choices. (I don't forbid Barbies, either, but I do comment on their stupid feet, their weird breast size, etc.) And I do think it's working. One day I was reading her a chapter of "Little Town on the Prairie" in which Pa takes Laura to the Independence Day celebrations; in the story, the Declaration of Independence is read to the crowd, so I followed along. When I got to "all men are created equal," Mariah tugged at my sleeve and said, "But Mommy, what about the girls?" No amount of talk could convince her that they were included in that generic "men," and finally I couldn't argue with her. When she writes a novel, they'll be included. -- Elisabeth Rose Gruner Assistant professor of English & women's studies University of Richmond SALON \| Oct. 22, 1997