Tuesday News: Female road novels, the problem of ‘reliability,’ editors speak, and Tinder’s experiment
Green Screen: The Lack of Female Road Narratives and Why it Matters – Although this essay by Vanessa Veselka is a couple of years old, with all of the focus on Gamergate and systematized violence against women, I think it’s more relevant now than ever. Viselka talks about her own experiences as a teenage hitchhiker and the extreme danger that girls and women faced alone on the road. Instead of taking this story into the familiar terrain of ‘being safe,’ the author instead focuses on the ‘social invisibility” of women, and on the way in which our own cultural narratives about women do not, by and large, figure them as powerful and thriving. As Veselka notes, “Whereas a man on the road might be seen as potentially dangerous, potentially adventurous, or potentially hapless, in all cases the discourse is one of potential. When a man steps onto the road, his journey begins. When a woman steps onto that same road, hers ends.”
A really powerful piece that has a great deal to say about how narratives featuring women construct heroism and empowerment.
But there is no female counterpart in our culture to Ishmael or Huck Finn. There is no Dean Moriarty, Sal, or even a Fuckhead. It sounds like a doctoral crisis, but it’s not. As a fifteen-year-old hitchhiker, my survival depended upon other people’s ability to envision a possible future for me. Without a Melvillean or Kerouacian framework, or at least some kind of narrative to spell out a potential beyond death, none of my resourcefulness or curiosity was recognizable, and therefore I was unrecognizable.
True quest is about agency, and the capacity to be driven past one’s limits in pursuit of something greater. It’s about desire that extends beyond what we may know about who we are. It’s a test of mettle, a destiny. A man with a quest, internal or external, makes the choice at every stage about whether to endure the consequences or turn back, and that choice is imbued with heroism. Women, however, are restricted to a single tragic or fatal choice. We trace all of their failures, as well as the dangers that befall them, back to this foundational moment of sin or tragedy, instead of linking these encounters and moments in a narrative of exploration that allows for an outcome which can unite these individual choices in any heroic way. I will also admit that I think fixed narratives can be pretty dangerous. As vessels that shape our sense of self, they can be narcotic, limiting, and boring, and our development as humans is directly tied to our ability to cut across these simplistic story lines rather than be enslaved by them. Keystones in the arch under which we pass into a landscape of adolescent narcissism—that is what I think of fixed narratives. But they also keep us safe. They mark our place in society and make sure we’re seen. Therefore, the only thing more dangerous than having simplistic narratives is having no narrative at all, which is deadly. –The American Reader
On “Relatable Characters” – A really insightful and powerful indictment of the concept of “reliability” in fiction, which is commonly and problematically invoked when readers talk about diversity in Romance. Although Nancy is not talking specifically about romantic fiction, her analysis is still extremely relevant and I particularly admire the way she manages to talk about this extremely complex and difficult issue without reader shaming. –YouTube (Nancy’s Reads)
The Accidental Bestseller – I’ve been hoping that PW would run a version of this piece with other genres, but since they haven’t, I’m posting the link to this survey of editorial commentary on unexpected successes in children’s fiction. For readers or authors who wonder how editors acquire books, their process and what they look for, this piece might give you some insight. Abigail McAden, for example, recounts the experience of her very first acquisition, The Princess Diaries:
In 1998, my boss forwarded me a voicemail from an agent we didn’t know and asked me to follow up on it. Which is what assistant editors do, of course. I read the manuscript immediately. I loved it. Here was a girl who felt real and relatable and insecure, surrounded by a cast of hilarious, fully realized characters. The writing was perfect. With all my vast 20 months of publishing experience, I knew it was special. It wasn’t a quiet book or a book that would easily take awards. There were no sympathetic librarians depicted or heroism in the face of cruel circumstances. There was a dramatic ice cream cone spill and a makeover, though.
We published it a year and a half later, with little else but an iconic, hot-pink jacket, and it became the little book that could. –Publishers Weekly
Tinder Press to accept unagented manuscripts in March – Hachette imprint, Tinder Press, is opening up its submission process to unaccented manuscripts for the first two weeks of March. Given the current polarization between traditional publishing’s reliance on agented manuscripts and self-publishing’s virtual lack of gatekeepers, Tinder’s experiment seems like a natural middle ground for those authors who want to contract with a traditional publisher but may not have the stamp of a literary agent’s approval.
“At Tinder Press we are committed to finding the freshest literary voices, and the time seems right for us to reach out directly to authors at an early stage in their careers. This business is all about discovering new talent, so we’re hoping to be surprised and delighted, and that at the end of the day we’ll find an author we can go on to work with in the future.” –The Bookseller
Cheryl Strayed’s WILD answers that road novel lament–I mean, it takes more than one book, but it’s a start. She does most of her traveling on foot, of course, but she does hitchhike, she is often forced to rely on the kindness of strangers & she meets more friends along the way than enemies.
It’s one of the reasons why I loved that book so much. I’ve traveled alone more than a lot of people I know & I find it so satisfying. But I’m always frightened.
@Erin Satie: There’s an interesting debate in the comments to the post about Strayed and whether her work qualifies. Did you see it? I’d be interested in your thoughts on it.
I read the book & loved it. Then saw the movie & was extremely tepid about it.
I loved the book because I love to hike & I loved how Strayed captured the experience of backpacking. How agonizing it can be and also how satisfying. I related to all of her trail experiences so well.
The movie, however, doesn’t spend nearly so much time on the hiking. Which I understand. 90 minutes of Reese Witherspoon walking down a trail wouldn’t fill the theater. So instead it hops between all the incidents that interrupt the hike & It captures the vividness and transience of those moments really well. But that’s not what I loved about WILD.
The movie also rearranges some of her experiences in order to give the narrative a stronger arc. You know, she gets better and better, she has some challenges, but then she triumphs. But the narrative doesn’t work that way–there are moments of transcendence early on, and being competent & comfortable on the trail doesn’t ward away the most truly frightening & dangerous encounter she has.
But wait–do I think that it qualifies as a “road novel”? Yes, absolutely. The same way Kerouac does, for sure. The same mix of: travel as a form of self-actualization; brief encounters that force a sort of carpe diem attitude; mixed with a lot of reflection.
@Erin Satie: Thanks. I haven’t yet read Strayed’s book, although I have it. Now this whole discussion has me really curious, because it feels like there are some differences related to socialization and identity development that may play into the way these stories are told.