Scientism and The Second Sex

I recently dug up my old copy of The Second Sex, and because I feel guilty for never having read it all the way through, I started reading at the beginning a few days ago.  I’m so glad I did; I’d forgotten what an amazing tour de force it is.  Not only is De Beauvoir obviously brilliant–she references everyone from Aristotle to Merleau-Ponty with ease–she’s able to lead the reader coherently through the disparate fields of biology, psychoanalysis, philosophy, and history without ever getting muddled or losing sight of her topic.  Of course, she’s not without philosophical biases, and some aspects of the book, particularly the sections dealing with female hysteria and mental illness, are dated.  Overall, though, it’s incomparably good.

I was really struck by the first chapter on biology.  It seems especially relevant now, when religious creation myths have largely been discarded in favor of evolutionary just-so stories that conveniently justify rigid gender roles in the name of science.  De Beauvoir has little patience for scientific reductionism.

Once we adopt the human perspective, interpreting the body on a basis of existence, biology becomes an abstract science; whenever the physiological fact (for instance, muscular inferiority) takes on meaning, this meaning is at once seen as dependent on a whole context; the “weakness” is revealed as such only in the light of the ends man proposes, the instruments he has available, and the laws he establishes.  If he does not wish to seize the world, then the idea of a grasp on things has no sense; when in this seizure the full employment of bodily power is not required, above the available minimum, then differences in strength are annulled; wherever violence is contrary to custom, muscular force cannot be a basis for domination.  In brief, the concept of weakness can be defined only with reference to existentialist, economic, and moral considerations.

The chapter on psychoanalysis articulates my problems with Freud better than I ever could:

Not being a philosopher, Freud has refused to justify his system philosophically; and his disciples maintain that on this account he is exempt from all metaphysical attack.  There are metaphysical assumptions behind all his dicta, however, and to use his language is to adopt a philosophy.

More to come as I continue reading!

Shirley Jackson update

I found The Haunting of Hill House at the used book store this weekend.  Like everyone else, I’ve read The Lottery, and while I enjoyed it at the time I don’t remember being particularly affected by it.  Maybe I was too young.  Anyhow, I’m pleased to report that Hill House is utterly captivating.  At once lovely and terrifying, it is not only a good ghost story, it’s also a meditation on the darker aspects of female friendship, on loneliness, and on mental illness.  And the writing is wonderful, as evidenced by the opening paragraph:

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

Eleanor Vance, the main character, is one of those heartbroken spinster types (Agnes Moorehead, anyone?) who doesn’t know what to do with herself, her own adulthood, or other people.  She is, however, just young enough to be hopeful.

Don’t do it, Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again; don’t do it; and the little girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly comprehending smile, and shook her head stubbornly at the glass.  Brave girl, Eleanor thought; wise, brave girl.

Whether Eleanor herself is already trapped is, of course, a question you have to read the book to answer.  I’ll only add that it really is scary, and that it’s subtle and psychological in a way most supernatural horror stories are not.

I really need to track down the 1963 screen adaptation with Claire Bloom and Julie Harris.  (Hill House was also used as the loose basis for a 90s horror movie with Catherine Zeta Jones, which I have seen; it sucked.)  And then I want to read We Have Always Lived in the Castle, which is supposed to be excellent, and from what I gather, more psychological and less supernatural than Hill House.

The third stroke

I’ve been re-reading Dubliners, and it’s wonderful.  This time I find myself identifying very strongly with the characters, which is probably a sign of pathology since they are all paralyzed, angry drunks.  Oh, well.  After this, I will read Ulysses and perhaps blog about it.  And maybe I will blog about Dubliners, too, after I’ve thought about it some more.

Today I ordered the following used books:

Nicomachean Ethics,  because I’ve been craving Aristotle, and because I lost my old copy of The Basic Works. And by “lost,” I mean someone I didn’t know THREW AWAY a box of my books for no reason.  I am still angry about it.

On the Genealogy of Morals I haven’t read it, and I thought it would be interesting to compare to the Nicomachean Ethics.  Although I should probably re-read The Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals in between.  Going straight from Aristotle to Nietzsche might be too much of a mindfuck.

The Theory of the Leisure Class I am very excited to read this.  It is so timely!  Plus, I’ve wanted to read it forever, and now that I know things about economics it’ll be even better.

And just for fun, I might go to Half Price books and look for some Shirley Jackson novels.

This woman’s boyfriend would never let her smoke in bed

I want this book.