A meandering, lengthy, and conservative argument for traditional gender norms and sexuality.
A writer defends traditional notions of masculinity and femininity.
Drawing on her experiences in “55 years of married life” and her devotion to her Roman Catholic upbringing, debut author O’Dair implores readers to turn back to the “nostalgic days of the 1950s” and reject post-’60s feminism and the sexual revolution. In almost 400 pages, with mostly anecdotal evidence and personal reflections, the author provides traditional Catholic takes on marriage, abortion, gay sexuality, and birth control. At the crux of her argument is the belief that “modern feminism has continued to bring division between men and women” rather than recognizing the innate yet complementary differences. Whereas “a man’s responsibilities are intended to evoke a no-nonsense approach to life” that provides safety and stability for their home, women serve as caretakers and nurturers. To the author, the sexual revolution allowed men to eschew the responsibilities of fatherhood and the virtues of chastity. Other sections of the book outline what she sees as the immorality of abortion, describe the “foolishness” of “the transsexual movement,” and rail against “the LGBTQ segment of society” that “abases and ridicules the human body and our basic human…identities as male and female.” Though the author mostly repeats well-worn talking points of social and religious conservatives, the book is at its best in the rare moments when O’Dair discusses her own personal struggles with reconciling Catholic teachings on birth control with the complexities of her own family dynamics. But such introspections are few and far between in an otherwise rambling and repetitive work whose length could have been shortened by half without losing anything of substance. Most glaring is the author’s insistence on her own unflappable moral code and inspiration from the Holy Spirit. She refuses to engage with modern scholarship on gender constructs, with feminist theologians, or even with more nuanced stances on gender and sexuality taken by the Catholic Church itself. Her rudimentary dismissal of feminism and her absolutist morality that leaves no room for debate will win few converts.
A meandering, lengthy, and conservative argument for traditional gender norms and sexuality.Pub Date: April 4, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-973657-25-5
Page Count: 404
Publisher: Westbow Press
Review Posted Online: Jan. 12, 2020
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.
A teacher and scholar of Buddhism offers a formally varied account of the available rewards of solitude.
“As Mother Ayahuasca takes me in her arms, I realize that last night I vomited up my attachment to Buddhism. In passing out, I died. In coming to, I was, so to speak, reborn. I no longer have to fight these battles, I repeat to myself. I am no longer a combatant in the dharma wars. It feels as if the course of my life has shifted onto another vector, like a train shunted off its familiar track onto a new trajectory.” Readers of Batchelor’s previous books (Secular Buddhism: Imagining the Dharma in an Uncertain World, 2017, etc.) will recognize in this passage the culmination of his decadeslong shift away from the religious commitments of Buddhism toward an ecumenical and homegrown philosophy of life. Writing in a variety of modes—memoir, history, collage, essay, biography, and meditation instruction—the author doesn’t argue for his approach to solitude as much as offer it for contemplation. Essentially, Batchelor implies that if you read what Buddha said here and what Montaigne said there, and if you consider something the author has noticed, and if you reflect on your own experience, you have the possibility to improve the quality of your life. For introspective readers, it’s easy to hear in this approach a direct response to Pascal’s claim that “all of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Batchelor wants to relieve us of this inability by offering his example of how to do just that. “Solitude is an art. Mental training is needed to refine and stabilize it,” he writes. “When you practice solitude, you dedicate yourself to the care of the soul.” Whatever a soul is, the author goes a long way toward soothing it.
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.Pub Date: Feb. 18, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-25093-0
Page Count: 200
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Nov. 24, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.
The Book of Genesis as imagined by a veteran voice of underground comics.
R. Crumb’s pass at the opening chapters of the Bible isn’t nearly the act of heresy the comic artist’s reputation might suggest. In fact, the creator of Fritz the Cat and Mr. Natural is fastidiously respectful. Crumb took pains to preserve every word of Genesis—drawing from numerous source texts, but mainly Robert Alter’s translation, The Five Books of Moses (2004)—and he clearly did his homework on the clothing, shelter and landscapes that surrounded Noah, Abraham and Isaac. This dedication to faithful representation makes the book, as Crumb writes in his introduction, a “straight illustration job, with no intention to ridicule or make visual jokes.” But his efforts are in their own way irreverent, and Crumb feels no particular need to deify even the most divine characters. God Himself is not much taller than Adam and Eve, and instead of omnisciently imparting orders and judgment He stands beside them in Eden, speaking to them directly. Jacob wrestles not with an angel, as is so often depicted in paintings, but with a man who looks not much different from himself. The women are uniformly Crumbian, voluptuous Earth goddesses who are both sexualized and strong-willed. (The endnotes offer a close study of the kinds of power women wielded in Genesis.) The downside of fitting all the text in is that many pages are packed tight with small panels, and too rarely—as with the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah—does Crumb expand his lens and treat signature events dramatically. Even the Flood is fairly restrained, though the exodus of the animals from the Ark is beautifully detailed. The author’s respect for Genesis is admirable, but it may leave readers wishing he had taken a few more chances with his interpretation, as when he draws the serpent in the Garden of Eden as a provocative half-man/half-lizard. On the whole, though, the book is largely a tribute to Crumb’s immense talents as a draftsman and stubborn adherence to the script.
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.Pub Date: Oct. 19, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-393-06102-4
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2009
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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