Without Men due to the book's frank discussion of wirginity and sex. Without Men , Blue Reason and Skip to content. Proefschrift Soc. Drawing on extensive ethnographic and interview data, Jennifer Utrata focuses on the puzzle of how single motherhood—frequently seen as a social problem in other contexts—became taken for granted in the New Russia. Among the daily struggles to get by and get ahead, single motherhood, Utrata finds, is seldom considered a tragedy.
Utrata begins by tracing the history of the cultural category of "single mother," from the state policies that created this category after World War II, through the demographic trends that contributed to rising rates of single motherhood, to the contemporary tension between the cultural ideal of the two-parent family and the de facto predominance of the matrifocal family. Of prime importance is the paradoxical Mammywata figure, the independent, childless mother, who serves as a basis for the postcolonial woman in the novels and in society at large.
Ogunyemi tracks this figure through many permutations, from matriarch to writer, her multiple personalities reflecting competing loyalties. This sustained critical study counters prevailing "masculinist" theories of black literature in a powerful narrative of the Nigerian world. Bennett Publisher: University of Pennsylvania Press ISBN: Category: History Page: View: 99 When we think about the European past, we tend to imagine villages, towns, and cities populated by conventional families—married couples and their children.
Although most people did marry and pass many of their adult years in the company of a spouse, this vision of a preindustrial Europe shaped by heterosexual marriage deceptively hides the well-established fact that, in some times and places, as many as twenty-five percent of women and men remained single throughout their lives. Despite the significant number of never-married lay women in medieval and early modern Europe, the study of their role and position in that society has been largely neglected.
Singlewomen in the European Past opens up this group for further investigation. It is not only the first book to highlight the important minority of women who never married but also the first to address the critical matter of differences among women from the perspective of marital status.
Essays by leading scholars—among them Maryanne Kowaleski, Margaret Hunt, Ruth Mazo Karras, Susan Mosher Stuard, Roberta Krueger, and Merry Wiesner—deal with topics including the sexual and emotional relationships of singlewomen, the economic issues and employment opportunities facing them, the differences between the lives of widows and singlewomen, the conflation of singlewomen and prostitutes, and the problem of female slavery.
The chapters both illustrate the roles open to the singlewoman in the thirteenth through eighteenth centuries and raise new perspectives about the experiences of singlewomen in earlier times. Her fresh perspective on present-day Iran provides a rare insight into this rich culture alive with artistic expression but virtually unknown to most Americans. Keshavarz introduces readers to two modern Iranian women writers whose strong and articulate voices belie the stereotypical perception of Iranian women as voiceless victims in a country of villains.
She follows with a lively critique of the recent best-seller Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books, which epitomizes what Keshavarz calls the "New Orientalist narrative," a view marred by stereotype and prejudice more often tied to current geopolitical conflicts than to an understanding of Iran. Blending in firsthand glimpses of her own life--from childhood memories in s Shiraz to her present life as a professor in America--Keshavarz paints a portrait of Iran depicting both cultural depth and intellectual complexity.
With a scholar's expertise and a poet's hand, she helps amplify the powerful voices of contemporary Iranians and leads readers toward a deeper understanding of the country's past and present. When she marries again, it is to a prince with whom she experiences tenderness and physical passion and bears four children—but their relationship sours when he proves unfaithful.
Touba is granted a divorce, and as her unconventional life continues, she becomes the matriarch of an ever-changing household of family members and refugees. Emecheta is shown to be a bridge-builder between two cultures and two worlds in narratives both challenging and popular characterized by ambiguity, ambivalence and double-voiced discourse, all of which evince the writer's determination to expose imaginatively the colonial heritage of centre-periphery conflicts, cultural corruption, ethnic discrimination, gender oppression, and the migrant experience in multiracial communities.
It is sure to have a tremendous impact in Iranian studies, modern Middle East history, and the history of gender and sexuality. It rereads the story of Iranian modernity through the lens of gender and sexuality in ways that no other scholars have done. Scott, author of Gender and the Politics of History.
This collection showcases the real scope and complexity of Iran through the work of a stellar group of contributors-including Azar Nafisi and with original art by Marjane Satrapi. Some of the pieces concern feminism, sexuality, or eroticism under the Islamic Republic; others are unorthodox political testimonies or about race and religion. Almost all these contributors have broken artistic and cultural taboos in their work. Journalist Azadeh Moaveni reveals the underground parties and sex culture in Tehran, while Gelareh Asayesh, author of Saffron Sky, writes poignantly on why Iranians are not considered white in America, even though they think they are.
With a sharp, incisive introduction by Lila Azam Zanganeh, this diverse collection will alter what you thought you knew about Iran.
He had never spoken to her that way. He always said Farrokh with that smile. She looked up. There was no derision in his eyes; he was looking at her kindly. Farrokhlaqa was frightened. She was certain he was planning something. She thought, what if he kills me? She lashes out and more or less accidentally kills him: it's typical of what happens when man and woman are together here. Another character is Zarrinkolah, a prostitute in a bordello, who worries that she's losing her mind when all the men she services suddenly appear to be headless.
She, too, can't handle her situation any longer -- despite having put up with it cheerfully for years -- and looks for escape.
Like for the others, Karaj and its garden draw her to it, though it is not so much a final destination but a way station. In Women without Men Parsipur mixes realism with complete fantasy. Some chapters are specifically grounded in August, -- when Mossadeq was overthrown -- yet elsewhere she pushes the stories towards timeless irreality. One character dies and is resurrected which makes life a bit easier: "She had died twice, and nothing surprised her anymore" , while another literally takes root as a tree.
The mix is well-handled, giving the narrative a fable-like quality where a gardener looking for work conveniently comes knocking at the door as soon as the decision to buy the property has been made but also making many of the points much more effectively than strict realism would allow for.
However, the individual stories are a bit loosely connected, especially at first, as some characters are very quickly introduced while much more space is devoted to others -- giving parts of the book the feel of previously written separate stories bunched and then tied together.
One of the men explains one of the social norms: "It doesn't make sense for a woman to go out in the first place. Home is for women, the outside world for men. It's a fantasy, so the men get their comeuppance soon enough, but it's still a remarkable treatment of violation, as the women also find that having lost their virginity isn't that big a deal.
The bigger crime, in the larger context of the novel, is that widespread lie that little girls are told, "that God would never forgive a girl who lost her virginity". The consequences are staggering, beginning with the little girls too afraid to climb and play on the trees for fear of damaging their virginity and extending to almost all facets of life, especially in the relationships between men and women.
Parsipur doesn't insist on happy endings as she sorts out the women's fates in the end, winding things up realistically in suggesting -- as she does for one couple Their life is neither good nor bad.
It just goes on. The loose collection gives the book an even lighter feel, despite the very serious subject-matter and grave events that take place. But this light and the fairy-tale quality also help Parsipur make her points, as the book never feels didactic and also entertains with its often marvelous episodes. Well worthwhile. Persis Karim's lengthy Afterword new to the Feminist Press edition does offer some useful background information about both Parsipur and the Iranian situation as well, which is certainly welcome.
Note that a new translation, by Faridoun Farrokh, was published in , also by the Feminist Press, essentially replacing the one by Kamran Talattof and Jocelyn Sharlet on which this review is based. Trying to meet all your book preview and review needs.
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