Customer Reviews

Mercy: A Novel

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

This is a greatly misunderstood work. Oddly enough, <Mercy's> most ardent opponents seem to be the feminist intelligensia (who Dworkin depredates as those waving the "intellectual feminism" banner) who understand this book as a reckless and irresponsible call for violent retributivism against all men. Dworkin writes powerfully and passionately, and it is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that the novel's narrator ("Andrea")replicates Dworkin's personal views of justice. Rather, this novel interrogates conventional notions of justice and mercy and asks us, the reader, to consider the circumstances of Andrea's life in understanding her conduct at the novel's conclusion.
The novel's feminism is not achieved by baldly inciting all women to violence. Rather, Dworkin points out that: 1) the violence that has been, and is, perpetrated against women is genocidal, and that men have engaged in literal war against them. 2) The judicial system takes litle note of women's experiences in sexual assault, child custody, and other such hearings, and reinforces gender-biased interpetations of women. Dworkin interrogates judicial practice by positioning the reader as the trier of fact whose sole referrant is Andrea, herself. We judge 'her' conduct according to 'her' story. It is only because the legal system fails women that the latter must employ more martial means in defending themselves.
Whether you agree with her or not, Dworkin pens an extremely provocative work that will certainly challenge your assumptions regarding gender relations. The novel's liberal use of stream-of-consciousness techniques reinforces the immediacy and "story from the frontlines" feel of the narrative. I strongly recommend <Mercy> to anyone interested in feminist discourse.

An intense, factual, and very personal revelation about the impact on one person who has been sexually abused. No hiding or shame, Dworkin puts it all out there. Think what you want but she's been there and no one can - or should - tell her how she feels about such a devastating assault. It is NEVER the victim's fault.

The writing technique is not the point, the continued existence of this type of viciousness is what readers may find hard to believe.

This book is a provocative and interesting story of a woman's sexual abuse. True, she does choose to live on the streets of NYC, but does that make her abuse okay? For a large portion of this book, I had little sympathy for Andrea because she chose her lifestyle. But this book really does have much to say. More than anything, I believe this book is a picture of how our childhoods effect us. No one seems ready to help Andrea, and she does not seem to know better. It is true that this book may seem a bit unrealistic in trying to get its poitn across, but, in the 2 endings, Dworkin gets the best message of this book across. In today's society, women are either submissive or labeled a "crazy" feminist. There is no in between, and that is frustrating for many of us. Our society has mixed messages of what feminism is, and, though it is 2004, there is still a strong bias, alive and well, against women. I applaud Dworkin's courage to be true to herself in writing such a novel.

The problem with Dworkin's writing isn't that it is, in itself, problematic -- it is that most readers are too lazy to make their way through the dense writing Dworkin sets up at least in part as an effort to rescue language from its connotations and provide a new set of associations and perspectives for the reader's use. To say that this novel is not for those with a short attention span is to make quite an understatement; however, Dworkin's fiction is a brave and valuable venture into the realm of a new kind of female protagonist. This book is a necessity for those who would investigate feminist fiction.

I was intrigued by the cover so I read this book. Dworkin, like most radicals, simplifies life. she's had a bad life but I'm afraid that doesn't make her a good writer. For example. She describes penises in such a hysterical, bizarre, and overblown manner. I ended up checking mine for razor blades. When a man writes about vaginas in such a fearful way he is rightly laughed at. Andrea Dworkin is, basically, a female Sam Kinison without the humour. You've got to feel sorry for her but that doesn't make her right. All fascists use past grievances as a way of inciting hatred. Dworkin is no different. so, i'm sorry and everything, but the book is pretty dire.

This "novel" is a chronicle of the early life of "Andrea," a woman from New Jersey who endures a life of sexual abuse and eventually becomes a radical feminist. Using a stream-of-consciousness first-person narrative, with long, repetitious sentences, Dworkin attempts to show us the shattered mind of a woman who has faced the worst assaults on her sense of self. In so doing, she denies us the presence of any other real characters, and ends up (intentionally) reducing the many abusive men in the novel to their violating body parts and destructive acts. In this sense, the novel itself is an act of retaliation, which Dworkin strongly endorses in the novel. Not for the faint of heart, this propagandistic book is an attempt to show why and how women must up the stakes in the battle of the sexes, and remember that it is nothing but a battle

...and I am wondering why it took this book for me to say them, even to myself. Never again.

No one can channel righteous female rage like Dworkin can! This book was very readable, despite its stream-of-consciousness style (which I usually find unbearable), and pretty edifying as to the place of even radical hippie women in the 60s & 70s. She incites gals to fight back with whatever means are necessary. Many shy from this theory, but why should the feminist revolution have to be the first non-violent one? Lotsa thought-provoking idea in this novel.