|
|
Post by gnicholson3 on Jul 23, 2024 19:50:45 GMT
One thing that struck me as distinguishably different from our other novels is the gender of out protagonist. Her gender is significant in the context of this being in the 1960s and with the way that others in the novel objectify, categorize and strip her of her individuality. She introduces herself as “Maria Wyeth” but indicates that “some people [at the psychiatric facility] call me ‘Mrs. Lang” (4). Their refusal to refer to her by her maiden name and continued use of her now divorced name is a slight that shouldn’t be ignored, especially if we think of the married name as a form of ownership. This idea of ownership is important, because we see how others try to one-up Carter through objectifying and lessening the value of his ‘property’. In an elevator Maria runs into an actor she recognizes but does not know; “the look he gave Maria was dutifully charged with sexual appreciation, meant not for Maria herself but for Carter Lang’s wife” (23).
Other women in the literature we’ve read so far have taken archetypes such as the seductress and often experience their lives in relation to those around them like the women in Barbary Shore. I know someone else has gone into this on a different thread, so I won't go into the codependent relationships that we see. I did however remember the interesting way that Mike Lovett approached Guinevere with the idea of her being labelled a "nymphomaniac" by Willie (BS 168). That label, paired with this novel, makes me wonder about women in regard to existential representation.
|
|
|
|
Post by garrison on Jul 23, 2024 20:57:16 GMT
You make a great point about the people's percieved ownership of Maria. Hollywood at the time, along with much of America, had no respect for women. If something is said enough times, people start to believe it. I wonder if the many instances of Maria being viewed as less than started to seap into her brain and aid in her downward spiral. By the end of the book, does Maria even view herself as her own person, or just disregarded property.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Nemmers on Jul 24, 2024 1:59:17 GMT
Well, and we see here the value of reading a novel about a woman written by a woman--- as Grace mentions, we simply haven't seen a nuanced female character who's sexually active at all. Almost to a woman they have been in the angel / whore dichotomy, or perhaps a witch or a curandera, or some other archetype. But when we actually get things from Maria's perspective we see that it's not that simple, that she contains multitudes.
And yes, the matter of male ownership was one of the big catalysts for the adoption of the title Ms. -- to free women from being identified by their marital status and husband's name.
|
|
|
|
Post by gillianlaird on Jul 24, 2024 19:16:40 GMT
Thank you for pointing out the maiden name/married name thing, because I didn't even notice it. On the topic of their divorce, I did find it strange while reading that Carter still had such a strong presence in Maria's life. It almost comes across like he views her as his responsibility or a faulty piece of property that he needs to keep an eye on. Maybe his reputation in the industry has to do with his continued presence in Maria's life; maybe he is scared of her getting into some kind of mess that will harm him in some way. But then again, it never seems like he, or any of the other male characters in the novel, worry about their reputation in the world like the women do (except Maria). Didion has a really nuanced story with Play It As It Lays.
|
|
|
|
Post by connorswauger on Jul 24, 2024 22:20:09 GMT
You make a great point about the people's percieved ownership of Maria. Hollywood at the time, along with much of America, had no respect for women. If something is said enough times, people start to believe it. I wonder if the many instances of Maria being viewed as less than started to seap into her brain and aid in her downward spiral. By the end of the book, does Maria even view herself as her own person, or just disregarded property. By the end of the book, I started to read Maria as a rebel by Camus’ definition. In the beginning, Maria lived her life at the whims of the men in her life, only feeling free when she’s driving. After the abortion though, I think she realizes that she realizes just how disconnected she is and becomes destructive and apathetic. She has sex with a man and then steals his car, gets arrested, Carter calls her a “cunt” and tells her to go die, and she tells Carter that she feels nothing. I think by this point, she understands how she is valued as a woman and BZ offers her the pills as a way out, and I see Maria as a rebel because she chooses to stay alive and live a new life according to what she wants and plans to get Kate. Maybe through Maria’s experience, to live authentically as a woman is a true act of rebellion. |
|
|
|
Post by gnicholson3 on Jul 25, 2024 0:55:45 GMT
Well, and we see here the value of reading a novel about a woman written by a woman--- as Grace mentions, we simply haven't seen a nuanced female character who's sexually active at all. Almost to a woman they have been in the angel / whore dichotomy, or perhaps a witch or a curandera, or some other archetype. But when we actually get things from Maria's perspective we see that it's not that simple, that she contains multitudes. And yes, the matter of male ownership was one of the big catalysts for the adoption of the title Ms. -- to free women from being identified by their marital status and husband's name. |
|
|
|
Post by gnicholson3 on Jul 25, 2024 1:11:16 GMT
Thank you for pointing out the maiden name/married name thing, because I didn't even notice it. On the topic of their divorce, I did find it strange while reading that Carter still had such a strong presence in Maria's life. It almost comes across like he views her as his responsibility or a faulty piece of property that he needs to keep an eye on. Maybe his reputation in the industry has to do with his continued presence in Maria's life; maybe he is scared of her getting into some kind of mess that will harm him in some way. But then again, it never seems like he, or any of the other male characters in the novel, worry about their reputation in the world like the women do (except Maria). Didion has a really nuanced story with Play It As It Lays. Your wording made me wonder what divorce was like in the 1960s and (according to google, so take it with a grain of salt) there seemed to be a shift in divorce around this time regarding the No-Fault Divorce. I don't think that it's necessarily important to this novel, but it was just something that I found curious. In 1969, it was signed into action (on a state level) to keep the government from prying into marital relations. I didn't look into how men/women reacted to this being signed, but I think it would be so interesting to look at this novel through a historical lens. The NAWL, National Association of Women Lawyers, seemed to be intricately connected to this bill so that speaks volumes. What an interesting rabbit hole. Thanks for your comment. |
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Nemmers on Jul 25, 2024 3:16:50 GMT
Good that you bring this up-- I think it does matter insofar as they do get a divorce, and apparently it can't be "no-fault" in California, so they agree to label it as Carter's fault, on the grounds of "mental cruelty."
I circled that in my edition.... talk about an understatement!
|
|
