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3.64 AVERAGE
3.64 AVERAGE
I can understand from the premise of the book that she wanted to talk about and really focus on the places that hurt and a lot of what she talked about, in terms of harassment for example, was emotional and familiar but I felt like there needed to be more connective tissue or maybe some reflection or something? It felt like a long list to me and I can see what that could be useful to people that need examples but to me, I guess I wanted more of the whole shape instead of just the parts.
i find it so hard to rate/review memoirs as a concept, especially when it deals with sensitive topics such as sexual assault, rape, body dysmorphia, etc. in no way do i ever want to diminish someone's trauma/experiences
it's so disappointing that women can't feel safe by themselves in public or meeting new people. the fact that shit happens so often, that terrible experiences become almost universally relatable for so many women makes me really fucking hate society. based on the synopsis/introduction, i expected this book to be about the author's experience with sexual abuse and trauma so i completely lost interest when she talked about giving birth lol
the way it began with the author's childhood experiences definitely gave me the impression that it was going to be written chronologically. however this memoir felt disjointed/choppy probably because it absolutely did not go in chronological order lol. each chapter felt very repetitive because the author literally just copy/pasted parts of her intro of each chapter at the end? i feel like repetition could be a great literary device if used properly but this was just a fucking shit show. the writing was just so fucking trash
it's so disappointing that women can't feel safe by themselves in public or meeting new people. the fact that shit happens so often, that terrible experiences become almost universally relatable for so many women makes me really fucking hate society. based on the synopsis/introduction, i expected this book to be about the author's experience with sexual abuse and trauma so i completely lost interest when she talked about giving birth lol
the way it began with the author's childhood experiences definitely gave me the impression that it was going to be written chronologically. however this memoir felt disjointed/choppy probably because it absolutely did not go in chronological order lol. each chapter felt very repetitive because the author literally just copy/pasted parts of her intro of each chapter at the end? i feel like repetition could be a great literary device if used properly but this was just a fucking shit show. the writing was just so fucking trash
To read my full review, click the following link: https://artinyourworld.com/2017/07/09/sex-object-a-memoir-by-jessica-valenti/
https://www.instagram.com/art_in_your_world/
https://www.facebook.com/caitlinrambling/
If there was one book I could have the entire male population read, it would be Sex Object: A Memoir by Jessica Valenti. It is honest, undramatic, unromantic, and blameless about the objectification of females. As much as we want to bring our heads below our faces, cover the catcalling with our headphones, and clutch whatever safety net we have hidden in our purse as we speed through crowds, that is not always the option. It’s not always the situation either. Sometimes it is our own thoughts about ourselves, what we deserve, what we want, what we have convinced ourselves something means or some else has told us is the meaning of.
https://www.instagram.com/art_in_your_world/
https://www.facebook.com/caitlinrambling/
If there was one book I could have the entire male population read, it would be Sex Object: A Memoir by Jessica Valenti. It is honest, undramatic, unromantic, and blameless about the objectification of females. As much as we want to bring our heads below our faces, cover the catcalling with our headphones, and clutch whatever safety net we have hidden in our purse as we speed through crowds, that is not always the option. It’s not always the situation either. Sometimes it is our own thoughts about ourselves, what we deserve, what we want, what we have convinced ourselves something means or some else has told us is the meaning of.
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
I adore Jessica Valenti and love that she narrated the audiobook of her memoir. At times sweet and nostalgic, at others furious and wrought, this is a great short read/listen. Saddeningly, so much of what she wrote back in 2016 remains relevant today, especially in terms of anti-choice politics.
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
Okay, so. I loved the message and a lot of her writing. But, my difficulty with it lay in the lack of cohesive theme as it is written like a dozen separate articles bound together
sad
fast-paced
The beginning and the end of this were both really good. I started out thinking it would be a four star read, and Valenti's recollection of the casual leering and touching that many children are exposed to, even when they're preteens, is both recognisable and chilling. Similarly, the end is also compelling, with the premature birth of her daughter, the strain of trying to nurture a very unwell little baby, and the fear of what her daughter will be exposed to in the future... it's not anything new in the realms of feminism, but it's relatable.
It's the central three-fifths or so that lose comparative interest for me. It's a litany of Valenti's sexual relationships, from the first adolescent romance to her eventual husband, and with the exception of the husband they all seem like unpleasant people. It's bad relationship after bad relationship, over and over, and while I understand that this book is meant to do what it says on the tin, to explore the ways in which the men around Valenti treat her as a sex object and nothing but, it comes across as just plain repetitive. Which I suppose is the point - a depressing point, certainly - but from my reading perspective it's deadening as well as depressing, and it doesn't dig a whole lot deeper past that bare recording. This is a short book, but it could have been a lot shorter, I think, and not much would have been lost.
Those anonymous, abusive emails from the fucking losers at the end, though... what a bunch of pathetic no-hopers.
It's the central three-fifths or so that lose comparative interest for me. It's a litany of Valenti's sexual relationships, from the first adolescent romance to her eventual husband, and with the exception of the husband they all seem like unpleasant people. It's bad relationship after bad relationship, over and over, and while I understand that this book is meant to do what it says on the tin, to explore the ways in which the men around Valenti treat her as a sex object and nothing but, it comes across as just plain repetitive. Which I suppose is the point - a depressing point, certainly - but from my reading perspective it's deadening as well as depressing, and it doesn't dig a whole lot deeper past that bare recording. This is a short book, but it could have been a lot shorter, I think, and not much would have been lost.
Those anonymous, abusive emails from the fucking losers at the end, though... what a bunch of pathetic no-hopers.
At least the title was descriptive. The title also makes me realize how close the words "object" and "abject" are. There's a lot of the latter in this book.
Reading Valenti's stories of sexual assault (and others like hers) makes me so thankful that my own experiences, by comparison, are innocuous. I feel very fortunate that I've never seen a dude penis in public, that I've only received a couple unsolicited dick pics, that I had teachers (and other adult men) I could trust not to be pervy douches.
Valenti tells us in the introduction that she's tired of making light of all these experiences and is now just angry, and I agree. Shit like this just makes me ANGRY.
The last third or so of the book that deals primarily with her traumatic pregnancy, birth of her daughter & resulting strain on her marriage was upsetting on a whole 'nother level.
This book was thought-provoking and intense, and I read it in one sitting. It also left me with a need for some lighthearted comedy, after walking in Valenti's shoes for a couple hundred pages.
Valenti tells us in the introduction that she's tired of making light of all these experiences and is now just angry, and I agree. Shit like this just makes me ANGRY.
The last third or so of the book that deals primarily with her traumatic pregnancy, birth of her daughter & resulting strain on her marriage was upsetting on a whole 'nother level.
This book was thought-provoking and intense, and I read it in one sitting. It also left me with a need for some lighthearted comedy, after walking in Valenti's shoes for a couple hundred pages.
