Reflecting on the
recent internet furor over David Gilmour's big mouth, I realized just
how lucky my experience as a female in academia has been. During the
15 years I was (among other things) getting my two degrees in English
at three Canadian institutions, 1995-2010, I was unfailingly treated
with respect by my male professors, and in some cases something like
awe. As far as gender-specific encouragement goes, I remember in
particular the philosophy professor who told me “Don't let him get
away with that!” when I backed down during an argument with a male
student (I may have been the only woman in the seminar, but I can't
remember because I paid no attention to my fellow students in
university, only to the professor, the readings, and the ideas); and
the high school math teacher who told me I'd be bored and stop
attending class if I switched to business math (he was sweet but he
couldn't do anything to interest me in math, not as long as there was
literature to read). As far as encouraging me as a writer went, I
remember the junior high teacher who slammed my screenplay assignment
down on my desk with a big “A” scrawled on it and demanded,
“Where did you learn to WRITE like that!??”
(Do I sound as pompous
as Gilmour? Good, we can get that out of the way.)
I don't know about the
rest of North America, but based on my experience, Canadian high
schools and universities are far from being rife with male
chauvinism. (In elementary school nearly all of my teachers, both
male and female, hated me for being intelligent and intellectually
curious, but that's another pedagogical kettle of fish.) Clearly
these math and philosophy teachers had absorbed feminism's lessons
about raising the self-esteem and engagement level of female students
in these traditionally male subject areas. It didn't work with math
but it did work with philosophy: I was interested in big ideas, not
big numbers. Philosophy was my minor as an undergraduate, English my
major, and I also have a Master's in English. I don't think David
Gilmour is the norm – no, not even for his age. The majority of the
male professors I took classes from, or simply socialized with,
during 1995-2010 were between the ages of 45 and 65, and if they were
45 in 1995, that would place them within Gilmour's generation.
Gilmour has no excuse.
You might think from
the foregoing that I don't think that either North American
Humanities departments or North American literary culture is male
chauvinist, but you would be wrong. It's true that my English
professors were 50/50 male/female (that's based on the total number
of professors I took courses from, with my course choices dependent
on my interests, what was available, and what was required for my
program); my philosophy professors, on the other hand, were male
straight down the line. Of all of the multiple-author English courses
I took, the professor (male or female) managed to fit in a token
female in about half the cases. The only
course I ever took in which the female writers outnumbered the male
writers was a Modernism course taught by a self-declared feminist. As
for single-author course offerings: I took five on male authors
(Milton, Shakespeare, Keats, Donne, and T. S. Eliot), one on a female
author (Austen), and don't recall in the 20 semesters of choosing courses seeing another one offered on a female author.
These experiences jibe with findings about the under-representation
of female contributors and reviews of books by women in traditional
literary journals like the New York Review of Books and London Review of Books. What's really depressing is that this
under-representation is being carried over into new online journals
like The Quarterly Conversation, which is ostensibly devoted
to reviewing experimental world literature in translation but which you'd be
forgiven for thinking is a space where men can hero-worship men,
thanks to the shrines to Murakami, Wallace, and Bolano, and the low numbers of female contributors and subjects (in 2013 to date, together they hover at a little over 25%). Incidentally, the proof of my own devotion to Bolano is on this blog, and I have female friends and
acquaintances that are among the biggest Murakami, Wallace, and
Bolano fans I know. (That's how I discovered TQC: by looking
for Bolano coverage.) So why is The Quarterly Conversation
such an aggressively male space? And why is this considered literary
culture as per usual, while spaces where women hero-worship women
(e.g. Sylvia Plath, Margaret Atwood, and Jeannette Winterson) are
considered “feminist”? There are non-feminist female-dominated
literary spaces on the internet, such as Goodreads, which seems to
have been overtaken by chicklit-lovers – because, as Jonathan
Franzen once lamented, in America women read and men don't. But
that's average men and women. The literary elite is
all, well, serious heterosexual guys – the writers and the
reviewers. Women can have all of low literary culture to themselves
as long as high literary culture remains the preserve of men.
What
can we do to rectify this situation? Based on my own experience we
are heading in the right direction in the universities, but we still
have a long way to go, and it's not as though new media is going to
automatically rescue us from ancient cultural assumptions. I can see
the serious heterosexual guy contributors to TQC
stamping their feet and pulling a Gilmour: “But I like what I like,
and you can't make me
like anything else! (And by the way, I only like The Best.)” And if
the discouragement of women in subjects like philosophy isn't
happening at the classroom level – where is it happening? Why have
I heard from young female philosophy students that it's easier to get
published with a male or gender-neutral pseudonym? If I were doing a
minor in philosophy now, would I find more female professors, or not?
As
far as my major is concerned, we have got to get female authors out
of the Women's Studies ghetto (which should become Gender Studies
anyway, and perhaps in some interdisciplinary cases, Sex Studies) and
into the canon. Now that we've entered the 21st
century this should be easier than ever, since there are plenty of
well-known 20th
century English-language female authors. But it's not as easy as it
looks, since the two big “isms,” Modernism and postmodernism, are
dominated by a roll call of male heroes (from Joyce to Beckett to
Pynchon to DFW). To introduce more diversity into English Studies we
might have to de-emphasize the traditional isms, and there's nothing
necessarily wrong with that. On the contrary, since Modernism is
widely seen (by its practitioners too) as being the end of
traditional literary values, why shouldn't the postmodern literary
canon be in perpetual flux and subject to perpetual debate?
It
remains to be seen whether English Studies is even going to emerge
from the demands of diversity, on the one hand, and the challenge of
the digital era, on the other, in any kind of recognizable form.
Should English finally be liberated from the theological close
reading model? Is it possible that the kind of enrichment and
pleasure offered by the close reading of aesthetically accomplished
texts – the study of the canon – is only one
kind, and that others that are just as good can come of reading and
literary analysis? Is it coincidence or zeitgeist that I conceived
the idea of reading The Recognitions
side by side with its cultural evil twin, Peyton Place
(the difficult male masterpiece vs. the trashy female bestseller),
not long before I read Andrew Seals's Quarterly
Conversation article on Franco Moretti's cheeky canon-revising concept of “distant reading,” “We Have Never Been Well-Read”? It does seem as though we're
going to have to whittle down the pre-20th
century canon even more, get those Great Dead White Males and
smattering of females out of the way so that we can then pick our way
through the ensuing flux, realizing that there is absolutely no way
for us to read everything of value and interest, so we might as well
study whatever we want to? Moreover, in North America this decision
to educate oneself in these matters – to spend your youth thinking,
to become a contemplative and critical citizen – is undertaken at a
gouging cost with little if any financial reward at the end of it –
but that's another cultural battle.
Meanwhile,
I want to say these things to the commenters who've been defending
Gilmour yet who seem to known nothing about either the study of
literature or feminism, which pretty much rules them out from
commenting:
- David Gilmour is not a “specialist.” He does not even have a Ph.D.. He's a literary author. He's stated that by his own choice, in fact insistence, he only teaches “what he loves.” That he only loves fiction by ageing white guys doesn't make him a specialist in fiction by ageing white guys. Just like if I only liked to read vampire fiction, that wouldn't make me a specialist in vampire fiction. I would be a specialist in vampire fiction if I chose that as my field of scholarship (with research and theses and discoveries about the genre and all of that), regardless of my feelings about vampire novels.
- Yes, there are courses devoted to the exclusive study of literature by women. No, that's not a double standard, given the under-representation of female authors in English literature courses that I've described above. I've also stated that I think it's time to get rid of Women's Studies, but not so that we can go back to the old way of doing things. If the young male university students proclaiming their butthurt at the existence of Women's Studies are being sincere rather than disingenuous, I am sincerely concerned about their ability to reason. As for all of the young female university students (again, I presume that's what these women are) who have rushed to proclaim that they hate female authors too – all I can say is, good luck with that. Seriously, Canada, you're producing real winners.
- The issue is not whether or not it's important to be “passionate” about your subject matter. The issue is that by declaring himself passionate only about literature by “serious heterosexual guys” (and Proust... but whatever), Gilmour revealed that he's a close-minded, sexist, parochial ninny. Yes it is sexist to only read authors of your own gender, yes I would say that if a woman declared she was only interested in reading books by women.
I can definitely see
how, as some commenters have claimed, Gilmour is a popular teacher.
It probably is fun for a change to be taught by someone who is not a
scholar, who has the privilege of only teaching what he loves (not
what best represents his area of speciality, nor what would be best
for the students), and who feels no obligation to be objective and
distance himself from his feelings about the material. This is one of
the benefits of hiring arts celebrity instructors; the other is that
in this way such usually-struggling artists can earn a few more
peanuts. Gilmour, however, has abused the privilege he's been granted
of teaching what he loves by only loving what superficially resembles
him. He is absolutely free to love what he wants and read what he
wants, whatever anyone may think of it (as we are free to state what
we think of it, given that he publicized these views). He is not,
however, free to teach whatever he wants. University instructors and
universities have obligations to their students. Gilmour is free to
be uninterested in diversity in his private life, but not in his
pedagogy.
And
yet this opens a can of worms, which is presumably why the principal
of Victoria College is defending Gilmour and hiding behind that
ludicrous (in this context) word “specialized”: can professors be
forced to include
works by women and other examples of diversity in their syllabi? Should
I have been upset that I didn't read anything by women in my
philosophy classes? (I don't think I did, though I don't know about
all of those analytical philosophy articles, and maybe they were
using pseudonyms or initials.) The issue, however, is not that
inclusion of texts by women is mandatory, but that Gilmour appears to
be excluding certain authors from his syllabus because
they are women, and that
is discriminatory. The only way that would not be discriminatory is
if he were teaching a course on male fiction.
I
think it's endearing that the student protestors responded with the
mantra “Gilmour! Read more!” (which was the first thing his
Hazlitt interview made
me think, after “What a nincompoop”) and by dressing up the
statue of the great Canadian critic Northrop Frye in drag. Although I
think there are grounds for firing Gilmour in his statements, what
the outcry should really be about is making not Gilmour but English
lit courses in general more diverse. It doesn't matter whether
individual serious (white) heterosexual guy professors share
Gilmour's sentiments: those sentiments are institutionalized. And we
know that in the consumer-student era, students can get what they
demand. They might as well use that dubious, debt-bought power for
good.