Before quoting Jessa Crispin's article on Elizabeth Gilbert and her two books, I have to say that I like Gilbert. I like listening to her talk because she gives good lectures. The trouble is that I just don't like reading her books because they make me want to slam my head against the wall while crying in a Nancy Kerrigan fashion "why? why?" What I'm trying to say is that we are in 2010, women should just get over the perpetual quest for self, perfection, candid feminitude, balance, and just embrace complexity and their imperfections while just living their life the way their want to without making excuses, without needing to bash others on the head with their deep, but sterile thoughts. Here is the sugary excerpt:
These are the accusations against Elizabeth Gilbert I have read: treacly, annoying, feminist, insincere, spoiled. Then there are the more brutal ones: bitch, dyke, cunt. The most common, however, was "selfish." How dare she? How dare she leave her husband to travel? How dare she write a book about it? How dare she fall in love again? And with a Brazilian! How dare she... what? Attain happiness? Or at the very least, put a stop to her death wish? That bitch, that dyke, how dare she walk away from her man?! Doesn't she understand that this is the shameful masculine territory? It's just as bad when men do it — we're not saying it isn't! — but women are supposed to be above all that, all of that free will stuff. Really. How dare she?
Now of course there is the follow-up, a book examining the state of marriage after Gilbert discovered she had to marry her Brazilian lover for him to attain citizenship. As a history of marriage, Committed is a thoroughly unnecessary book. There are a ton of books on the market telling us that marriage is a raw deal for women. Men thrive in marriage, they are healthier, they earn more money, they are happier. These gains appear to be at the expense of women, as they do not thrive in marriage. Quite the opposite. There are the added hours of housework, a decline in earning power, the depressed libido. Then there are the rates of divorce and infidelity, that sticky statistic about the chances of a woman being murdered by her husband. We know all this, and we get married anyway. If this is the paradigm, why do we cling so tightly to it? And why do we freak out when someone rejects it?
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