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stridette 's review for:
My Evil Mother
by Margaret Atwood
Using witches as a symbol of feminism is nothing new, but by the end of the story, I wasn't quite sure that feminism was even what Atwood was aiming for. I mean, it's Atwood, so she probably was. I just don't know that she stuck the landing.
All the trappings are there. A single mother, coping on her own. A daughter who is giving up her intellectual pursuits to impress a boy (who is, of course, a violent hothead destined to be a drug dealer, because we need to paint in broad strokes, I suppose). Herbology, tarot, and other cliche "women's business". Penis collections.
But does it really come together? The mother, who is positioned as the paragon of feminism, is a questionable figure. She seems like a pretty bad mum - if she's not completely crazy, then she's choosing to speak in purposely detached and unbelievable ways rather than actually trying to connect with her daughter. As an individual, she's just not very decent, preaching that "the opposite of mean is a doormat". She trots out the old "better to be feared than liked" thing, except her word for "feared" is "respected", as if those are the same thing.
I know that feminism means that we don't have to "behave", but if you want to be a decent person (and therefore someone worthy of emulating), being a preachy, controlling household tyrant who deliberately seems out of her mind is probably not the way to go about it. Also, collecting penises is not constructive feminism.
All of which makes me think that this story really isn't about feminism at all, but instead about the fraught relationship between a teenage girl and her mother. Indeed, that's the story thread that actually gets resolution. But if that's the case, why spend so much time on feminist trappings? None of them were resolved. They only served to muddy the thematic waters.
I was ready to thoroughly enjoy this story. I trust the author, and of course the writing itself was comfortably unimpeachable. I don't normally care much for witchy stuff, especially when people insist that it's real, but I'm open to reading almost anything. And yes, penis collection as a "yes queen!" form of feminism deeply irks me, but I'm not about to vote a story down for what amounts to a throwaway joke. But nothing in this story really came together for me, and that's pretty much all I ever ask from the short story format.
All the trappings are there. A single mother, coping on her own. A daughter who is giving up her intellectual pursuits to impress a boy (who is, of course, a violent hothead destined to be a drug dealer, because we need to paint in broad strokes, I suppose). Herbology, tarot, and other cliche "women's business". Penis collections.
But does it really come together? The mother, who is positioned as the paragon of feminism, is a questionable figure. She seems like a pretty bad mum - if she's not completely crazy, then she's choosing to speak in purposely detached and unbelievable ways rather than actually trying to connect with her daughter. As an individual, she's just not very decent, preaching that "the opposite of mean is a doormat". She trots out the old "better to be feared than liked" thing, except her word for "feared" is "respected", as if those are the same thing.
I know that feminism means that we don't have to "behave", but if you want to be a decent person (and therefore someone worthy of emulating), being a preachy, controlling household tyrant who deliberately seems out of her mind is probably not the way to go about it. Also, collecting penises is not constructive feminism.
All of which makes me think that this story really isn't about feminism at all, but instead about the fraught relationship between a teenage girl and her mother. Indeed, that's the story thread that actually gets resolution. But if that's the case, why spend so much time on feminist trappings? None of them were resolved. They only served to muddy the thematic waters.
I was ready to thoroughly enjoy this story. I trust the author, and of course the writing itself was comfortably unimpeachable. I don't normally care much for witchy stuff, especially when people insist that it's real, but I'm open to reading almost anything. And yes, penis collection as a "yes queen!" form of feminism deeply irks me, but I'm not about to vote a story down for what amounts to a throwaway joke. But nothing in this story really came together for me, and that's pretty much all I ever ask from the short story format.