The Blazing World + Sexism in Art/Lit/Media
Siri Hustvedt’s THE BLAZING WORLD
Siri Hustvedt’s newest novel, The Blazing World, came into my life at exactly the moment I needed it. Long story short and unspecific: I’ve been thinking much more about the sexism still present in American society, in the lit/art/media world especially, as well as what it means to be a young woman entering that scene after scrapping an author interview I intended to post on this site since the subject made it clear he thought of me less as a writer than a piece of ass.
The premise of the novel is simple: Harriet Burden is an artist receiving less attention than she knows she deserves, being passed up for recognition in comparison to her male counterparts. Frustrated with the critics and New York art scene at large, Burden creates a new show, but rather than taking credit for the exhibit, she hides her work behind the names of three males. It receives more attention and better reception than ever.
What is it about a name and a specific set of organs? Just a few years ago, I would have thought this book outdated, too rooted in the pre-Feminine Mystique world our grandmothers inhabited. Today, I couldn’t have understood it better.
There’s this part of the story, which itself is presented in a series of interviews, personal testimonies and diary entries of those involved or on the scene, where Harriet (often called Harry throughout the story, a perfectly suiting nickname) talks about the sexist phenomenon she experienced:
“All intellectual and artistic endeavors, even jokes, ironies, and parodies, fare better in the mind of the crowd when the crowd knows that somewhere behind the great work or great spoof it can locate a cock and a pair of balls (odorless, of course). The pecker and beanbags need not be real. Oh no, the mere idea that they exist will suffice to goad the crowd into greater appreciation.”
I keep inspirational quotes, poignant sayings and otherwise deep thoughts written and scattered throughout my apartment and office, and I wanted to include this paragraph. Would this make me fight harder to have my pecker-less voice heard and respected? Or would it just leave me feeling as defeated as I did when that author put his hand on my thigh? Ultimately, I kept the quote in the book and kept the book in a standout spot on my bookshelf.
Do you remember a couple years ago when there was that scandal in sportswriting surrounding Sarah Phillips, this hot 22-year-old writing about sports in a ‘mysteriously amazing way?’ ((Freshen up on the story here)). There were tons and tons of problems with her, really, mostly having to do with social media fraud/Twitter hacking, but the real thing I remember from that whole incident was (and I’m remember this from what friends told me/not finding the original article): OF COURSE she didn’t write these amazing sports stories alone. OF COURSE there was a guy behind it. At first, I thought it was SO COOL that the tables had turned, now it was better in the written world to be a young hot girl than a stuffy old white guy, but that thought quickly faded. Why? The scandal only went on to reinforce the whole idea that hot 22-year-old girls CAN’T WRITE, at least without a pair of balls controlling her behind the scenes.
Back to Hustvedt’s novel: Of course, when Harriet decides to reveal it was HER behind the successful exhibit, no one believes. First, they don’t think her previous work would lead to the level of art on display and then – this puts the nail in the coffin – one of the men whose names she used as a mask denies her claims, sticking to the lie that the work was HIS. As the reader, we get a background on the man’s erratic, volatile nature; the people of the art scene do not.
There’s probably been people who started reading this article and quit paragraphs ago. There’s probably people – men AND women – who are reading this, thinking I’m being dramatic, holding onto the ODD instance of sexism in modern society and that Hustvedt’s written a story that does the same. There’s probably guys getting annoyed at me and Hustvedt complaining about our disadvantage not agreeing woman are even still at a disadvantage; there’s probably women rolling their eyes at the words of angry feminists. I can’t help you. These are the things I’ve found to be true.
What else can I say: Hustvedt’s an unfathomably smart woman (quick sweep of her bio: PHD from Columbia; accredited lecturer on art, neurophysiology and neuropsychoanalysis; Gutenberg Fellow) who’s story will make you stop thinking you knew squat about art history (especially women’s art history) or what it’s like to put out art as a woman. Unless of course, you are a woman putting out art, then you’ll just read this and go off on your own little thoughts as I’ve been doing for pretty much this entire review. Either way, it’s a winner.
