An acerbic, witty, and common-sensical collection of essays on feminism, crime, and pop psychology. Because she has never been tentative about disagreeing with other feminists, whether in the Atlantic or the Village Voice, Kaminer (It's All the Rage, 1995) sometimes endears herself to those least likely to share her concerns. This collection opens with an amusingly confused conversation between Kaminer and an editor at the National Review in which Kaminer tries to explain that she isn't a suitable writer for his publication: Despite her writing on individual responsibility, she is a liberal. She tells him that for what he proposes to pay her ($225) she could write for the Nation, but she knows that isn't ``quite true. The Nation hasn't called. They probably think I'm too conservative.'' Indeed, reading these pieces, one is struck by how oddly fresh traditional liberalism sounds—indicative of how rare it is in today's political context. Kaminer is smart and judicious. In her discussions of gun control, self-help, violence against women, the death penalty, and religious freedom she consistently tries hard to understand and do justice to those with whom she disagrees. Even ideas she finds ridiculous or vacant—communitarians' notion that feminism's emphasis on rights is selfish, Michael Lerner's ``politics of meaning''—are given a reasoned hearing. Kaminer can be predictable; the answer to most political problems is, in the end, that people should have more rights and take more responsibility. Sometimes she oversimplifies and perpetuates unfortunate myths, stating, for instance, that a belief in the possibility of benign heterosexual relationships is what distinguishes liberal from radical feminists. Actually, many radical feminists are happily heterosexual; the disagreement is about the existing system's potential to bring about social change. Despite such rhetorical excesses, Kaminer adds balance, intellectual integrity, and pragmatism to some debates that badly need it.
Pub Date: April 1, 1996
ISBN: 0-201-48914-7
Page Count: 336
Publisher: Addison-Wesley
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1996
For Howard Zinn, long-time civil rights and anti-war activist, history and ideology have a lot in common. Since he thinks that everything is in someone's interest, the historian—Zinn posits—has to figure out whose interests he or she is defining/defending/reconstructing (hence one of his previous books, The Politics of History). Zinn has no doubts about where he stands in this "people's history": "it is a history disrespectful of governments and respectful of people's movements of resistance." So what we get here, instead of the usual survey of wars, presidents, and institutions, is a survey of the usual rebellions, strikes, and protest movements. Zinn starts out by depicting the arrival of Columbus in North America from the standpoint of the Indians (which amounts to their standpoint as constructed from the observations of the Europeans); and, after easily establishing the cultural disharmony that ensued, he goes on to the importation of slaves into the colonies. Add the laborers and indentured servants that followed, plus women and later immigrants, and you have Zinn's amorphous constituency. To hear Zinn tell it, all anyone did in America at any time was to oppress or be oppressed; and so he obscures as much as his hated mainstream historical foes do—only in Zinn's case there is that absurd presumption that virtually everything that came to pass was the work of ruling-class planning: this amounts to one great indictment for conspiracy. Despite surface similarities, this is not a social history, since we get no sense of the fabric of life. Instead of negating the one-sided histories he detests, Zinn has merely reversed the image; the distortion remains.
Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1979
ISBN: 0061965588
Page Count: 772
Publisher: Harper & Row
Review Posted Online: May 26, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1979
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.
Maya Angelou is a natural writer with an inordinate sense of life and she has written an exceptional autobiographical narrative which retrieves her first sixteen years from "the general darkness just beyond the great blinkers of childhood."
Her story is told in scenes, ineluctably moving scenes, from the time when she and her brother were sent by her fancy living parents to Stamps, Arkansas, and a grandmother who had the local Store. Displaced they were and "If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat." But alternating with all the pain and terror (her rape at the age of eight when in St. Louis With her mother) and humiliation (a brief spell in the kitchen of a white woman who refused to remember her name) and fear (of a lynching—and the time they buried afflicted Uncle Willie under a blanket of vegetables) as well as all the unanswered and unanswerable questions, there are affirmative memories and moments: her charming brother Bailey; her own "unshakable God"; a revival meeting in a tent; her 8th grade graduation; and at the end, when she's sixteen, the birth of a baby. Times When as she says "It seemed that the peace of a day's ending was an assurance that the covenant God made with children, Negroes and the crippled was still in effect."
However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1969
ISBN: 0375507892
Page Count: 235
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: May 14, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1969
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