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3.0 out of 5 stars
A bizarre blend of broad insights and narrow ideology, December 12, 2002
This review is from: Presenting Cynthia Voigt (Young Adult Authors Series) (Hardcover)
Cynthia Voigt is a supremely talented author with a gift for character development and imagery; it is hard to imagine a critique that does justice to her. _Presenting Cynthia Voigt_, unfortunately, falls far short of such a goal. Its first several chapters vividly and insightfully illuminate Voigt's novels and provide a solid exploration of her use of language and symbolism, but then Reid unwisely chooses to direct the bulk of her general praise for the author into superficial (and occasionally forced, and sometimes inaccurate) descriptions of the way that Voigt's characters follow bland recommendations and models set out by ideological, narrowly-researched feminist tracts.
_Presenting Cynthia Voigt_ opens with a factual, unembellished biography of the author's childhood and career. I enjoyed the second chapter, on "Defining the Self" in _Tell Me If The Lovers Are Losers_ and _The Callender Papers_, never two of my favourites of Voigt's novels. A later chapter intelligently explores the subtle importance of naming in the raw narrative of _When She Hollers_. The third chapter, on the Tillerman books, is brief but enlightening. Though Reid discusses each book individually, she still ties together some common themes. Particularly interesting to me was a description of stars, seen first through Dicey's eyes, and then through her brothers': In _Dicey's Song_, Dicey reflects that the light from stars had burned out long ago; Sammy, dreaming of being an astronaut, wants to visit them; James perceives them as constant and unchanging. This parallels the reactions the three have to James' search for their father: James' motivation to search for his father is foreshadowed in _A Solitary Blue_, when he expresses his view of fathers as steady, and unchanging; Sammy is the least hesitant, eager to meet him; Dicey regards their father's contribution to their lives as locked in the past, and she thinks it pointless to try and find him.
The fourth chapter explores four books that are unified, according to Reid, by the theme of "Learning to Live: Ways of Knowing", and here things begin to slide downhill. Reid announces that the book _Women's Ways of Knowing_, which is little more than a rehashing, in feminist sheep's clothing, of the old chauvinist "men logical, women emotional" divide, can provide insights on how the characters in the books following the Tillerman novels learn about themselves. WWOK presents these five ways of learning as strictly heirarchical. Reid begins the chapter arguing unconvincingly that Voigt's characters proceed, like so much clockwork, through the stages; but midway through, without explanation, she abandons the heirarchical presentation and divides the five ways of knowing into two subcategories (the first few are deemed "instinctual", the last "intellectual"), and (correctly, for what it's worth) emphasizes that Voigt presents both as equally important. It's a mess.
Even more maddening: chapter 7, in which Reid assures us that Voigt's books present "girls as active protagonists", "boys express[ing] a wide range of emotions", as per the recommendations of The Feminist Press (est. 1970). Indeed they do; but this is hardly what makes Voigt such a unique, brilliant author. Other wonderful authors of young adult fiction - E.L. Konigsberg and Robert Cormier, to name just two - challenge gender stereotypes just as well. It's bewildering and insulting that Reid chooses to follow such a careful, respectful discussion of her subject with this pedestrian "You Go Grrrrl!" valentine/checklist. Feminist pop is trotted out once again, with Naomi Wolf's (unsupported) lamentation that traditionally, in fiction, "either the heroine is...perfect in both body and spirit" or "undervalued, unglamourous, but animated". Voigt breaks free of this dichotomy (as does, it should be noted, every author with any imagination), but her intriguing three-dimensional characters apparently aren't enough to hold Reid's interest. Instead, Reid ludicrously claims that "when [Voigt] does describe physical appearances, she is more apt to focus on her male protagonists". The examples Reid cites: Jeff, who is a secondary character in both of the books in which his physical beauty is mentioned, and Burl, also not a protagonist. Amazingly, Reid has forgotten all about the angelic Maybeth, whose prettiness features prominently in six of the seven Tillerman books. This doesn't detract from Voigt's skill at creating both fascinating boys and fascinating girls, of course, but one must wonder why Reid feels the need to make the forced and pointless argument that Voigt not only challenges stereotypes, but outright reverses them.
_Presenting Cynthia Voigt_ is worthwhile for its author's dissections of Voigt's novels; it's unfortunate that it so quickly and so throughly degenerates into dry ideology. Voigt is an insightful writer with far more integrity, knowledge, imagination and intuition than any of the authors whose agendas Reid is so eager to argue she serves. Voigt deserves far better than this book.
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