Why are Jane Eyre, Marge Simpson, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer "brave dames"? What makes Ally McBeal, Madame Bovary, and the good wife Beth from Fatal Attraction "wimpettes"?
In this thoroughly witty, incisive look at the role of women on screen and page, Susan Isaacs argues that assertive, ethical women characters are losing ground to wounded, shallow sisters who are driven by what she calls the articles of wimpette philosophy. (Article A wimpette looks to a man to give her an identity.) Although female roles today include lawyers like Ally McBeal and CEOs like Ronnie of Veronica's Closet, they are wimpettes nonetheless. A brave dame, on the other hand, is a dignified, three-dimensional hero who may care about men, home, and hearth, but also cares--and acts--passionately about something in the world beyond. Brave dames' stories range from mundane (Mary Richards in The Mary Tyler Moore Show) to romantic (Francesca in The Horse Whisperer) to fantastic ( Warrior Princess), but whatever they do, they care about justice and carry themselves with self-respect and decency. For a Really Brave Dame, think Frances McDormand as the tenacious, pregnant police chief in Fargo.
Isaacs's unmistakable love of fiction and film shines through even her most scathing wimpette assessments. In the end, she urges us to become "more thoughtful critics." The artist, she says, has the right to create whatever he or she pleases--and we have the right "to applaud or to yell, 'Hey, this stinks!' " If we do so, not only will fiction be improved, but so too might real life.
I was born in a thatched cottage in the Cotswolds. Oh, you want the truth. Fine. I was born in Brooklyn and educated at Queens College. After leaving school, I saw one of those ads: BE A COMPUTER PROGRAMMER! Take our aptitude test. Since I had nothing else in mind, I took the test-and flunked. The guy at the employment agency looked at my resume and mumbled, “You wrote for your college paper? Uh, we have an opening at Seventeen magazine.” That’s how I became a writer.
I liked my job, but I found doing advice to the lovelorn and articles like “How to Write a Letter to a Boy” somewhat short of fulfilling. So, first as a volunteer, then for actual money, I wrote political speeches in my spare time. I did less of that when I met a wonderful guy, Elkan Abramowitz, then a federal prosecutor in the SDNY.
We were married and a little more than a year later, we had Andrew (now a corporate lawyer). Three years later, Elizabeth (now a philosopher and writer) was born. I’d left Seventeen to be home with my kids but continued to to do speeches and the occasional magazine piece. During what free time I had, I read more mysteries than was healthy. Possibly I became deranged, but I thought, I can do this.
And that’s how Compromising Positions, a whodunit with a housewife-detectives set on Long Island came about. Talk about good luck: it was chosen the Main Selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club, auctioned for paperback, sold to the movies, translated into thirty languages, and became a bestseller. I was a little overwhelmed by the success. However, it’s hard to rise to a state of perpetual cool and go to slick downtown parties when you’re living in the suburbs with a husband, two kids, two dogs, and a mini-van, I simply wrote another book… and then another and another.
About half my works are mysteries, two fall into the category of espionage, and the rest are…well, regular novels. In the horn-tooting department, nearly all my novels have been New York Times bestsellers.
My kids grew up. My husband became a defense lawyer specializing in white collar matters: I call him my house counsel since I’m always consulting him on criminal procedure, the justice system, and law enforcement jargon. Anyway, after forty-five years of writing all sorts of novels—standalones—I decided to write a mystery series. I conceived Corie Geller with a rich enough background to avoid what I’d always been leery of—that doing a series would mean writing the same book over and over, changing only the settings.
I also produced one work of nonfiction, Brave Dames and Wimpettes: What Women are Really Doing on Page and Screen. I wrote a slew of articles, essays, and op-ed pieces as well. Newsday sent me to write about the 2000 presidential campaign, which was one of the greatest thrills of my life-going to both conventions, riding beside John McCain on the Straight Talk Express, interviewing George W. Bush. I also reviewed books for the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Washington Post, and Newsday. (My website has far more information about my projects than most people would want to know, but have a look.)
In the mid-1980s, I wrote the screenplay for Paramount’s Compromising Positions which starred Susan Sarandon and Raul Julia. I also wrote and co-produced Touchstone’s Hello Again which starred Shelley Long, Gabriel Byrne, and Judith Ivey. (My fourth novel, Shining Through, set during World War II became the 20th Century Fox movie starring Michael Douglas, Melanie Griffith and Liam Neeson. I would have written the script, except I wasn’t asked.)
Here’s the professional stuff. I’m a recipient of the Writers for Writers Award, the Marymount Manhattan Writing Center Award, and the John Steinbeck Award. I just retired (after over a decade) as chairman of the board of the literary organization, Poets & Writers. I also served as president of Mystery Writers of America. I belong to the National Book Critics Circle, the Creative Coalition, PEN, the Ameri
Having read one of this author's novel's, I looked forward to this nonfiction book. Meh. Perhaps it's just dated? Idk. But the opinions and ideas are extremely old fashioned.
Isaacs has written a non-academic, non-threatening book that might appeal to those who want to learn more about feminist thought, but would rather not read some theoretical text whose claims are so abstract as to be almost inaccessible.
While Isaacs makes some good points, her thought and style are rather lightweight--it's unlikely there'll be controversy over the claims she makes (one exception is her claim that the characters Thelma and Louise in the movie by that name are "wimpettes"--this surprising assertion is one passage in the book that has remained with me since reading it).
In contrast to the conventional academic work of cultural criticism, Isaacs's style is colloquial, almost militantly so (late in the text, the "sentence" "Not on your life" appears twice in as many pages). In general, her discussion is at about the level of a movie review in People magazine. At times, however, it can be as awkward as an undergraduate essay.
If you've ever experienced righteous indignation at the pouting damsel in distress - be she a doll tied to the tracks in a silent film, or the pseudo-feminist Ally McBeal - this book will feel wonderfully validating. Both the attacks on the Wimpettes and the trumpeting of the Brave Dames (from Jo March to Marge Simpson) are driven by the passion of justice-seeking. If, however, you happen to have enjoyed any of the books, films, or shows involving the Wimpettes, you may feel defensive and irritated. I didn't - as much as I loved her supporting cast, Ally McBeal had it coming. I only wish the book were longer and more comprehensive.