I'm really enjoying these academic books on weddings. This week's overwrought offering is Here Comes the Bride: Women, Weddings, and the Marriage Mystique by anti-marriage advocate Jaclyn Geller. Her thesis:

Major life choices are the result of multiple influences, most of which are unstated or stated in complicated, indirect ways. Marriage, in particular, is a decision unlike any other--a decision with an elaborate social context. It is overdetermined by family pressure, legal sanction, and the deluge of consumer images linking wedlock to female happiness and self-worth. I hope ... to substantiate these beliefs and dissuade many would-be wives from draping themselves in white and walking down the aisle. (71)

Geller knows her stuff, and has dug up some fascinating facts, anecdotes, and statistics. She also refers to films, television, fiction and non-fiction texts, and historical precedent. There are a number of truly entertaining passages in this polemic. Here are a sampling:

In reference to John Mitchell's book, What the Hell is a Groom and What's He Supposed to Do?, she notes that the author suggests grooms "indulg[e] their fiancees as if these women were adorable, silly, slightly vicious pets" (120). She also calls the endlessly obsessive "marital narrative" of invitations, flowers, photographs and such a "romantic vortex in which [a future bride] can easily lose herself" (275). In one of my favorite passages, she describes the yichud, or post-ceremony seclusion of the newly married couple that is traditional at Jewish weddings, a "miniorgy of heterosexual affirmation" (286).

Essentially, Geller's point is this:

In order to shape a meaningful history different from the history of those who came before us, women must relinquish the sentimental excess of the current wedding ceremony and let go of marriage, the institution that has sheltered our female ancestors, sometimes granting them safeties and protections but always furthering their subordination. An epoch of equality will only come to fruition when this ceremony, which enforces gender difference, is abandoned. By denying ourselves the short-term rewards of the nuptial rite, resisting its temptations and relinquishing the opportunities it provides for narcissistic self-presentation, we can begin to construct a vision of female selfhood untouched by the marital agenda. (293)

I respect Geller's strength of will and the power of her convictions, but, boy, this book is a riot. If you're wavering about whether getting married is an unfair thing to do--because some people can't marry, because it perpetuates the myth that marriage is the best bond possible between two people, because you think it relegates your friendships to the back burner--this could be a dangerous but worthwhile read for you. But as for me, I giggled and snorted a lot, and read passages aloud for their entertainment value.

DIY Chicagoans and those who admire them, please don't forget to attend the Renegade Craft Fair this weekend! Oodles of crafty goodness.

Ever wondered how to write a best-selling fantasy novel? The Bookslut rightly calls this one "quite brilliant."

To make Character Names, just run some nonsense syllables together until it looks like a foreign language. If they are unpronounceable they will be seem even more authentic. "Y"s, "H"s and apostrophes add an exotic feeling. Words like "Dn’a’brht", "ynhazzmhn", "jbreheh’m" are all acceptable.

Fantasy Worlds always have inexplicable gaps in their technology. They are ruled by councils of venerable sages who are the guardians of the accumulated learning of thousands of years and yet have never got around to inventing anything that might actually help them against wights, trolls and orcs - such as a .44 Magnum. Many Fantasy Worlds possess fine metal working, word-working and the ability to make crossbows, catapults and elaborate secret trapdoors but have no wheeled transport.

Note: Fantasy Worlds never have working economies. Very few people work, there is little agriculture and it is not clear where food comes from.

For anyone who enjoyed Nancy Pearl's NPR interview on great first lines, don't miss openinghooks, an online database of first lines from many novels.

[via LISNews]

Michael Dirda of the Washington Post recently produced As I Live And Read, a wisftul commentary on the NEA's much-discussed "Reading at Risk: A Survey of Literary Reading in America".

He opens with the following suspicious statement:

No doubt I could have looked online for the report, but I prefer to regard the Web as largely an invention of the Devil. I use the thing for e-mail, but that's just about it. I have seen the best minds of the next generation, and a few from my own, destroyed by its insidious ensorcelments.

Ah. Well, in that case, I think we can quite sensibly not expect a balanced view of Internet culture, and its relationship to reading, in this essay. According to Dirda:

By "literary" reading, the NEA report means "novels, short stories, plays, or poetry." But novels is a category that embraces mysteries, chick lit, adventure novels, Westerns, fantasy and science fiction, spy thrillers, possibly even children's picture books (this isn't clear).

Although he is careful to point out that I enjoy work in nearly all of fiction's genres -- occasionally even Harlequin romances, whose fans probably account for most of the people who get through a dozen or more titles a year, he naturally cannot elevate these works to the level of serious reading, as Literary Reading. He insists, Any genre is capable of producing work of high artistic merit. He means, some of my favorite books are genre fiction, but I wouldn't want to be wedded to any of them.

There's a lot of nostalgic tragedy in this essay, about how we've become a shallow people, happy enough with the easy gratifications of mere spectacle in all the aspects of life and how we no longer have the intellectual fascination to read Richardson's Clarissa or Freud. Freud.

Look, bub, I read Freud. And I read Chaucer. And Shakespeare. (too many to link a particular one). I even enjoyed most of the "serious reading" of my college years. I still read Dickens for pleasure on occasion, or his modern admirers. But I read mostly for pleasure now, and that means, for me, lots of genre fiction, magazines, and the web. I see plenty of theater, too, even if I don't read plays. Actually, I think reading plays isn't nearly as worthwhile as seeing them staged, but that's a different argument.

To me, there are two problems with Dirda's thesis. Modern life does, as he points out, include many tempting alternatives to reading. So what? So I watch more movies than I read books. Does that mean I'm intellectually impoverished? If I get my news from NPR instead of from the Chicago Tribune, or even if I get my news [gasp!] online, does that mean I'm no longer an engaged member of the reading public? Of course not. If Dickens's contemporaries had only theater and books to entertain them, and they read more books than I do--and had more leisure time, and read because the discussion of the most recent fiction was a vital piece of their social interaction--who cares? That simply means I now have more options. And I've been just as stimulated by an in-depth discussion of the meaning behind Pulp Fiction as I was by my last discussion of a great book. Real books are simply too serious for us. Too slow. Too hard. Too long. No. But we differ on what exactly a "real book" is, and on whether the only source of thought, wit, and learning is "literature."

My other issue is with Dirda's assumption that the greatest books are found in our past. He snears at those who read Oprah's Book Club selections, and The Da Vinci Code, and mourns how we have turned our backs on Thoreau. My father often laments that there are old (and doubtless great) movies I have not seen. He is frequently disappointed by newer films (as am I, to be quite fair), and by remakes (usually dreadful). But the body of quality film available now, in 2004, is so huge that I will never catch up, just like the body of great literature. And, in fact, there are many great modern films I may never see, too. Wonderful movies that will stand the test of time are still being produced. Fantastic novels and plays, which will be read by the grandchilden of my generation, are still being published. Simply being old does not make something great. And being new doesn't make it worthless. That's the most offensive sort of nostalgia.

And by the way, Michael Dirda, dismissing The Da Vinci Code and Oprah's picks as crap, even if they are, is pointless and detrimental to your purpose. You want people to read more? Stop judging their choices. If people read chick lit, and it's an easy read, and they get something out of it, who are you to judge their taste? Proper young ladies were once discouraged from reading many of the novels you probably consider great literature. This is the worst sort of intellectual snobbery. Even if I did loathe The Da Vinci Code and couldn't finish it. Even if I do know that many writers, from Diana Wynne Jones to C.S. Lewis wrote better fantasy than J.K. Rowling. I'm still waiting for the next Harry Potter novel with anxious pleasure. You want to make something of it?

[via LISNews]

More commentary on the rules about flying with sharp objects, with special reference to knitting parapharnalia.

Or, for that matter, what about knitting needles?

TSA regulations specifically say knitting and crochet needles are OK as carry-ons, but the only scissors you can have are those with plastic or blunt metal tips.

Now which sort of hijacker would you rather confront? The one armed with the inch-long, pointy scissors, or the one with the foot-long knitting needles, the ends of which have been honed to a deadly point?

You could easily transform aluminum knitting needles to a weapon in a few minutes in the bathroom with a piece of sandpaper or a nail file. Nail files are on the list of TSA approved carry-ons.

From the nextgenlib-l list, merchandise from the Curmudgeony Librarian. Hard to spell, hard to pronounce, but worth a look. The "I'm a librarian, don't make me shush your a**" baby tee is causing rather a lot of librarians to drool, it would seem.

For those of us who can't afford mega-sized cable packages, there's still hope. The archives for the new DIY Network's show Knitty Gritty are available online. Just click "View all episodes" at the bottom of the page.

Think knitting in a cafe is exciting? Try a bar!

Pub knitting – or Stitch 'n' Bitch as it is called in the United States – has now hit Wellington.

Knitworld's Trish McHardy is behind the latest craze, and has set up monthly pub knit meets at the Bristol Hotel in Cuba Mall for both new hip "urban knitters" and experienced hands like herself.

The Kelly Girls did try to have a knit-in at Hopleaf last winter, but we happened to pick the week they closed for remodelling. Ah, well. There was some concern about mixing alcohol and sharp pointy sticks, but I'm sure we'd have managed.

There's a really interesting article in Library Journal online about a survey of new librarians and their experiences with their first jobs. Some issues the authors raise include how well newbies believed their LIS programs prepared them for the job, their experiences with management, and their overall feelings about their work.

I'd like to congratulate the authors on pointing out such major library workplace issues such as lack of coordinated training for new staff, debt and low salaries, and the clashes between workers of different generations and working styles. I must, however, take issue with some of the authors' spin on their results. Ok, they only had 124 surveys, and they appear to have talked with largely public librarians. Still, here's an example:

Most of the new librarians (55.6 percent) agreed that library science classes prepared them well and taught them skills they use now. Only 26.1 percent disagreed.

Ok, by my math, 26.1% of 124 is 32 people. More than 1 quarter of those surveyed. In a small sample. I'd say that's a pretty big minority, undeserving of the "only" label.

Here's another favorite:

Fifty-seven percent agreed with the statement, "I feel happy in my workplace." Answers were scattered across the scale, but only 18.3 percent were specifically unhappy in their libraries.

Granted, that's only 23 people who hate their jobs, and 71 who are happy, but still, I think the fact that just under half the respondants would not agree that they were "happy" (not very happy, or thrilled, or delighted, but "happy") in their workplace is worth noting.

I don't want to denigrate the study, because I think the authors' learned some useful things and made some excellent points in their analysis. I just think it's worth being less polly-anna-ish and more realistic about what the results of some of these surveys indicate about our profession.

Hurrah! No more trying on stupid dresses, because I have found it!

I may have sniffed a bit, but I didn't weep when I saw myself in The Dress for the first time. On the other hand, it's mighty fine, and at that moment I finally truly felt like a bride. The whole wedding is now a tangible thing, which is both hugely exciting and scary as all get-out.

For any Chicagoland brides reading this, I purchased my dress and took it right home with me, from Here Comes the Bride in Addison. The women who worked there were ok, if not super-friendly; I'm glad I brought along an advocate to speak to them for me. They do, however, have a big selection, even in sizes for real humans!

I had a better experience at Wedding Belles, and had been planning to return there in mid-September, but then I found The Dress. The women at Wedding Belles are kind, fun, and endlessly patient, and their selection was amazing. I found several dresses there I liked very much, but nothing I loved. Still, of all the places I went, I would recommend it most highly.

I really felt strongly that I didn't want to order a dress and await it breathlessly for months on end, but should that be your intention, Gigi's Closette in Glenview has a great selection, and the woman I worked with at Volle's was extremely nice.

Ironically, in a single week I checked out the absolute best book about modern marriage I've read to date, and also the worst. Well, ok, the second-to-worst. That wedding traditions book was far more dreadful.

First, the bad: The Conscious Bride sounded like a thoughtful book of anecdotes by women who had experienced something other than unending joy during their wedding planning. Instead, the author (who only appears to have interviewed a small group of women) includes excerpts from interviews, then offers her own commentary and analysis with a mixture of New Age therapy buzzwords and Greek mythology. I managed to skim about 10 pages before flinging it across the room.

Here's a sample of this woman's bizarre writing, from the first chapter:

Congratulations! If you are holding this book in your hands, it is because you have recently become engaged. Either a proposal was offered to whcih you responded with a "Yes!" or you decided together that it was time to take the next step and move your commitment toward marriage.

This is the first line of the book. Bearing in mind that she continually refers to her audience as "the bride," I guess this means there are no women in her universe who propose to their men.

During my wedding journal I realized that the loss, confusion, and depression that live in the wedding's underbelly have been excluded from the bridal affair.

Wow! I didn't know weddings had underbellies. Is that like a reverse bustle? Good grief.

Then we have the ethereally beautiful A Walk Down the Aisle: Notes on a Modern Wedding, by Kate Cohen. This book could not be more different from The Conscious Bride. Cohen is an intelligent, eloquent woman, and rather than whining about how no one understood how alone she felt while planning her wedding, she explores the mature feelings of confusion, happiness, exasperation, fear, love, and ambivalence she felt when planning her marriage to her significant other.

The best thing about A Walk Down the Aisle, for me, is the way it addresses the issues many women today are coping with. For instance, the author and her boyfriend had been together for years before marrying. They lived together. They had thought a lot about the meaning of getting married before deciding to do so. The issues in this book are far more serious, and relate much more to what it means to be married, not just to get married, than any other book I've found.

Here's a section which I found particularly illuminating, since it summed up many of my own feelings about why I found I wanted to be married to my then-boyfriend. While shopping with her boyfriend for a new car, Cohen felt annoyed that the car salesman tended to ignore her, because her role in the transaction wasn't clear.

"Until then I would have been amused by his confusion; I would have enjoyed wearing the disguise of that hard-shifting, poor-handling word, girlfriend. I would have loved the fact that he couldn't properly categorize me. But now it frustrated me. Didn't he know how important I was? Couldn't he tell I was Adam's life partner, his better half, his ..."

"It was then that I yearned for the word wife."

The marriage vows Cohen and her husband wrote are so moving that I reproduce them here:

We promise each other: I will turn to you when I am in need, and care for you when you are.

We promise each other: I will take strength from who you are, forgive who you are not, and remind you who you want to be.

We promise each other: I will try to remember, whether sunk in sorrow or distracted by the day-to-day, what I feel at this moment--my sense of good fortune, my sheer joy at being with you.

We say to each other: Knowing my family and friends surround me, knowing who I am and who I want to be--with this strength and certainty I say to you: I have only one life, and it is only so long, and I choose to spend it with you.