Clive Sinclair, interviewing writer Emily Prager at the ICA, fell off his chair when she mentioned castration. How would he have copied with the heroine of Jill Miller’s comic novel Happy as a Dead Cat, who ‘dreamed [she’d] cut off twenty penises and fed them to a pack of wild dogs.’ Of course it is a truism that people expect this sort of thing from feminist fiction and Ms Miller is adept at playing with cliches. In fact the heroine’s castration dream dates from her pre-liberation days, when she is an exaggeratedly oppressed working-class woman married to a caricature chauvinist, who expects his meals on the table and his way in bed. No wonder she is portrayed on the front cover screaming through 180 degrees, objects crashing and spilling around her. Each day the disasters mount, until having jammed her foot in a full potty, crushed her fingers, fed dog food to the children and been punched by her husband, she is ripe to be rescued in the classic fairy-tale manner. And there is single parent Jane, ready to help – ‘I’m not more intelligent, love, I just have a bit more information…’
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Cressida Connolly reviews a new biography of Sybille Bedford.
I have just spent a wonderful few minutes re-reading the best book review of the year in my opinion. It's by Piers Brendon in September's issue of @Lit_Review. Beautifully captioned as 'Jack the Lad', Brendon takes Fredrik Logevall's JFK: Vol.I apart! It's a laugh a minute. Ouch!
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