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Not Oprah's Book Club: The Terror Dream and Homeward Bound

I'm still wading through both The Terror Dream by Susan Faludi and Homeward Bound by Elaine Tyler May. Check out last week's post for a rundown of why.

One of the things that struck me the most during this week's reading was the notion of comfort and how we seek it in very personal ways after very public events. In the case of Homeward Bound, comfort was to be found in marriages with traditional gender roles after WWII, when in fact, as May demonstrates, many people were profoundly uncomfortable in their own lives (but had told themselves a story about why it was necessary and good for it to be the way it was). She draws on the Kelly Longitudinal Study, which consisted of several surveys of 600 middle-class men and women during the post-war era. Some of the excerpts she picks out are totally heartbreaking, like when one mom/wife named Emily enumerates the things that she's sacrificed for her comfortable family life:

1. A way of life (an easy one)
2. All friends of long duration; close relationships
3. Independence and personal freedom
4. What seemed to contribute to my personality.
5. Financial independence.
6. Goals in this life.
7. Idea as to size of family.
8. Personal achievements--type changed.
9. Close relationship with brother and mother and grandmother.

But she never considers divorce. Wow. The domestic ideology that May describes so well trumps all of Emily's innate instincts to create a life that satisfies her on a deep level and/or represents her most authentic way of being in the world. It is shockingly antiquated and inhumane to me.

And yet, Faludi is arguing that the sacrifice of authenticity for a perceived comfort is still very much alive and well.

She looks more at what role the media plays in conditioning our notions of comfort, rather than the social psychology underlining how we influence one another. With her trademark exhaustive research, Faludi establishes the ways in which domesticity and traditional gender roles (male=hero, tough; female=sacrificing, in mourning) were resurrected post 9.11.

Some of the most interesting material, for me, has been her research on "the lonely woman New Yorker with the barren womb." Post 9.11 there were so many stories about how lonely and newly maternal women were feeling.

I was unsettled at this section and not only because I understood what was offensive about the media's framing. I was also unsettled because I actually remember feeling some of these things. One of my first instincts on 9.11 (I was a senior at Barnard College), was to tell my boyfriend that I wanted to have a baby. Not seriously. I had neither job nor inclination, but that was something that bubbled up in me, as ridiculous as it might sound.

So no, I didn't want to give up my career, move to the burbs and buy a Kitchen Aid mixer (as the media was framing these feelings), but I did feel suddenly sobered about what was important, who I wanted to be near, what I wanted to include in my life (mothering being a part of that). I think it's important that while we critique the media, we also look at what parts of these reactions are very real and precious. I don't like the idea of women running out for a white dress after national disasters (my thoughts on weddings are a whole can of worms), but I do like the idea of them having a sober moment to reflect on how critical relationships are.

So that's all for now. More next week. This pairing is proving really fascinating. I'd love to hear your two cents--did you have relationship-focused or material instinct feelings post 9.11? Have you ever rushed into a marriage because it felt comfortable? Where do you think real, genuine comfort lies?

Posted by Courtney - April 24, 2008, at 10:20AM | in Not Oprah's Book Club

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6 Comments

People make lots of interesting sacrifices in order to lead lives that match up with what we're told we should want.


I don't really have a compelling analysis of why that is. I think comfort, for me, comes from my best friends, wherever they might be; my small village of local buddies who make everyday life easier; and my wonderful boyfriend, who while he's across the continent, is my favorite person to hang out with.

I've never understood the sense some people had after 9/11 that OMG, life is short, I should get married/have a baby/run with the bulls at Pamplona. I've always had a certain (morbid perhaps) sense that there's always a sword over our heads.

On the maternal urge post 9/11, I think it's also about having more people to lean on. When my father was dying, I remember my sister having a very strong sense that our family was too small. She and I are the only children, and she had two children of her own. At the time, my husband and I were trying to have a baby, but hadn't yet succeeded in carrying a pregnancy to term. I remember her only semi-jokingly tell me that we had to have a baby soon, or she'd have a third, and they couldn't afford to send three kids to college. It was the sense that even when we were all together, supporting each other, it was too much for us to handle. She wanted her kids to have a larger support base.

Perhaps it's just that I'm not American (Canadian), but I felt very little on 9/11, save sadness for the victims. That and I completely lack any maternal sense.

I ended up living with my current partner partly through comfort. I was broke, about to be kicked out of my apartment, and being stalked by my ex. My current partner offered to let me live with him, though we'd only been together for six months. Living together that early isn't a decision I'd have made under normal circumstances, but I was amazingly lucky. It's worked out, and I am genuinely comfortable as it turned out. I have friends, family, cats and two loving partners, one of whom I live with.

No. :) No maternal feelings, no urge to have a relationship, no sudden desperate need for comfort. I don't react to tragedy like that, never have.

I called my mom, emailed my brother, touched base with those who were important to me, of course, but in the end, I found comfort and reassurance in watching the sunset. The day had been terrible, but it was over and a new day was beginning, full of new opportunities and tragedies and questions and wonder.

That day and the days since - some good, several really bad - haven't shaken my determination to live my life on my own, sans kids and a significant other.

I'm also wondering whether it was heightened because attacks/battles on US soil are comparatively rare (take for example contiguous Europe for a similar landmass/population).

In the UK, things have been unsettled for some time in that respect.

In the USA there are also strong national myths about the pioneers, the wild west, and it's notable that a number of westerns have been produced in the last few years, again something that happened in the 40s/50s/60s i.e. when things were turbulent.

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