Book Review: Feminist Figure Girl by Lianne McTavish

Hey readers! Sorry as always for my long hiatus. I'm back, baby!

I have this book to review but I feel in the interests of full disclosure I need to set it up a little first. When I first started volunteering at the Fredericton Morgentaler Clinic FULLY EIGHT YEARS AGO (!!) the volunteer co-ordinator was the hilarious, sharp, organized and awe-inspiring Dr. Lianne McTavish. A few short months after she left (to move to Alberta - story of the Maritimes), I took over in the scheduling of the volunteers.

I always enjoyed volunteering with Lianne, who had many sage (if sometimes cynical) words of advice on any topic imaginable. She wore many hats in the local feminist scene (kind of a necessity in a small place like Fredericton) and was always a spirited and smart addition to any actions or campaigns. After Lianne left, we kept in touch in the vague, nebulous social media way one does with one's acquaintances/former colleagues/movement comrades. We were also both, at the time, involved with the Abortion Rights Coalition of Canada and taking active roles in advising and encouraging the pro-choice movement back in New Brunswick.

It was with great interest, then, that I began reading Lianne's fledgeling (at the time) blog, Feminist Figure Girl. The project seemed ridiculously extreme to me but I knew Lianne and liked her writing, so I followed it - and have been following it, to various degrees of faithfulness, since the beginning.

I was not surprised, then, to receive this book in the mail - Feminist Figure Girl by Dr. Lianne McTavish. I want you to understand both that I adore the author as a fierce and ridiculously smart feminist, and at times hated her blog/the project. The very tagline - "Look hot while you fight the patriarchy" - grated, even though I knew it must be tongue-in-cheek. The whole concept of it was weird to me and I have never been convinced that it was feminist.

The book changed my mind. I will warn you at the outset that Dr. McTavish is an academic, and this is an academic project, so the language is not always very accessible. However, the advantage it has over other documentation of similar types of projects ("I did everything in the Bible for a year," "I ate fast food for a month," etc.) is that it is by necessity clearly laid out in terms of methodology and the results. It is easy to follow if you can understand the language, and it very clearly spelled out for me the feminist implications of the project.

In brief, the author became a "figure girl" and competed as one, in an attempt to explore the construction of the body within the context of body building, through a feminist lens. The study is autoethnographical, meaning McTavish herself undertook this research on her own body and meticulously recorded the results. She does a thorough examination of photographs and the role of photographic documentation of the process, so there are definitely some interesting visuals (just a head's up for those planning to read this in public - partial nudity abounds).

I did find some parts of the book dry, as can be expected when a non-academic reads a book of this nature. But overall I found it fascinating, even when I wasn't totally on board with McTavish's conclusions. The section on photography was especially interesting, as was a striking description of deliberate dehydration/carbo-loading leading up to the competition, including a ridiculous photograph of the author having her hair and makeup done glamourously while she, dead-eyed and exhausted, mechanically stuffs a piece of meat into her mouth.

It really is astonishing what the author has put herself through in the name of, as far as I can tell, sheer curiosity. For me I found a lot of value in this uncommon examination of the body as a construction, and how much control we can actually physically exert over it. I feel that it fits, however narrowly, under the umbrella of reproductive justice and I do urge you to give it a read. If nothing else it will definitely open one or two topics of discussion at the dinner table.

I am immensely proud and, frankly, awe-struck by Lianne. I hope her next project is equally fascinating but maybe a little less personally taxing.

Movie Review: Obvious Child

Ok so I saw 'Obvious Child' last night, and I adored it, and I'm not just saying that because it's an "abortion movie".

You may have heard a little about this film - I actually remember seeing the short film version online a couple years ago - basically it is the story of Donna, who is in a really shitty place in her life, hooking up with a dude, getting pregnant, and deciding to have an abortion. I know it doesn't sound like super feel good rom-com material, but hear me out.

Donna is a stand-up comedian at a rough bar in Brooklyn (this is not her day job). When we first meet her she is doing a pretty funny bit about underwear stains that was TOO REAL. Shortly afterwards her boyfriend dumps her (in the bathroom!!) and shortly after that, she finds out the bookstore she works at is closing, and she will soon be out of a job. The breakup is clearly the hardest on her heart, but it's all kind of a terrible spiral. Fortunately she has a great (and predictably quirky) support network - her divorced parents, feminist roommate, gay bestie, etc.

Donna meets Max, who is totally square. They have a fun and hilarious night together. They are very drunk and may or may not have correctly used a condom. Donna finds out she is pregnant, immediately decides to have an abortion, goes to Planned Parenthood (realest scene in the movie) and continues to spiral into awfulness thanks to her impending unemployment and the $500 cost of the abortion - which she has scheduled for Valentine's Day.

You have to watch the movie, it is just so lovely. There were definitely some rom-com staples (aforementioned gay bestie comes to mind, although totally worth it for his line about getting a guy's mouth pregnant), and everyone was pretty white, and there were too many fart jokes for my personal taste. But those were seriously the only criticisms I had.

What I love most about the movie is that it isn't really about the abortion (or the pregnancy) at all - even the scenes that are about it. It's about Donna. It's about her life and her friends and the circumstances around the abortion, but this movie doesn't feel the need to spend any time on the actual decision-making process, and that's awesome. It makes sense that this character would make this choice. It is consistent with who she is, that she would not agonize over maybe having the baby.

Some viewers might find some of it preachy - the roommate does use the word "patriarchy" at one point, and the mother's confession is a little convenient - but overall I think that even if you don't give a shit about abortion, you will probably enjoy this movie. Jenny Slate is extremely likeable and creates a Donna that we can get behind.

The scene where she talks about her abortion in her stand-up is the bravest shit I have seen in a movie in a long time, maybe ever. My heart, you guys! I cried and cried. Please see this movie.

If you're in Toronto, it's playing at the Cineplex at the Manulife Centre (at Bay and Bloor). Otherwise I guess check your local listings.

Book Corner: Intimate Wars by Merle Hoffman

How does on go about reviewing a memoir? I feel as if I have to, in some sense, review Ms. Hoffman's life.

Merle Hoffman was one of the trailblazers of the pro-choice movement in the USA, a controversial feminist who opened one of the first ambulatory abortion centres in America, and who has lived a life of boldness, ambition and, dare I say it, ego. Many times throughout the book I wrinkled my nose in distaste at her decisions, and her attitudes, and then had to ask myself how much more “natural” I would have found them if she were a man. In that respect the book was very challenging for me, in a good way.

I knew pretty much nothing about Hoffman before I read the book, so it was all new to me. She writes well, and seems sincere and unapologetic about her life and her role in the struggle for abortion on demand. Where her writing is the most detailed and informative is near the middle of her life, when she describes the challenges of opening and running the clinic, being a public figure, and protecting herself and her staff from the violence of anti-choice activists. For those looking for insight on the “abortion wars” of the late 1970s and early 1980s, specifically in New York, this book comes highly recommended.

I found Hoffman’s focus to be a little off in terms of the flow of her book. She spent as much time detailing her decision to purchase and learn to use a gun as she does on her mother’s death. There is very little about her early life. Sometimes, her decisions seem to come out of nowhere, although I’m sure in reality they took a great deal of time and consideration. I would have liked to have known more about her ideology, how it changed and grew, what factors went into her decisions, than about the details of the decisions themselves. For example, Hoffman decided, as a 58-year-old widow, to adopt a three-year-old daughter from an orphanage in Russia. Her decision to do so, and all the subsequent stuff that happens – going to get her, introducing her to Hoffman’s mother, the reaction of Hoffman’s friends – occupy the last twelve pages of the book. It seems…disproportionate.

I liked reading about the abortion rights struggle and I think Hoffman’s story is informative and inspiring to some extent. However, I don’t know if it would create any kind of profound change or understand like, for example, Susan Wicklund’s This Common Secret. Hoffman comes across as absolute in her ideals and doesn’t make a lot of room in her book (or, perhaps, in her life) for explorations of her emotions, or the changing perceptions and lives of the people close to her. I had a hard time relating to Hoffman because I believe we have vastly different personalities; her affair with a married man bothered me not so much for the questionable morality of it than because of her complete lack of empathy for – in fact, outright dismissal of – the feelings of the man’s wife.

Perhaps the most maddening theme in the book is Hoffman’s constant mention of choices she makes that other feminists didn’t agree with or were shocked by, without exploring that conflict at all. I don’t feel she should have to justify each choice that is perceived “unfeminist”, but I would be interested to know how she fits her own outlook and life path into her identity as a feminist. I feel that in today’s young feminist movement she will be judged more harshly than she was during the second wave, for her unapologetic capitalism, her gun ownership, and especially her totally unexamined relationship to a man 28 years her senior, who acted not just as lover and husband but also mentor, financial backer, advisor and boss. There are many areas where Hoffman is vulnerable, and the book could have been richer and more challenging by examining these perceived deficiencies in her feminist persona.

Overall, however, I have to say I really enjoyed reading the book. I learned a lot of things I didn’t know about a period in history that had such a huge part in shaping the women’s movement today. I also enjoyed the challenge of reading about a person whose life and choices seem so alien to me. It was difficult but enriching. I would recommend this book to anyone looking for insight into the beginning of the abortion-on-demand movement in the USA, and/or hoping to read the story of an undeniably strong and fascinating woman.

For my interview with Merle Hoffman, keep an eye on Abortion Gang.

Book Corner: Life Choices by Linda Weber

Sentient sent me a copy of Life Choices to read and review, and I'm really glad I decided to because it came at a time when I've been feeling a little homesick, and Linda Weber's tone and worldview are so much like my mother's, it was like reading a letter she would write to me.

The book is an exploration of abortion through the eyes of a counsellor, which I think makes a big difference to how we look at, well, anything, really. I always love stories told by providers - like Susan Wicklund's book, This Common Secret - but counsellors, especially those who have been practicing for a while, have an outlook that resonates with me.

It's hard to describe what the Weber actually talks about; it is mostly a jumble of ideas about abortion and what it means in a wider context. Life Choices is about how we view our bodies, what we think and feel about sex and sexuality, what it is like to live in a patriarchy. While the ideas presented are not overtly political, they have great political implications. Weber even takes a chapter to imagine an ideal world, sans patriarchy, where women could will themselves not to conceive through a greater spiritual connection to the world and our bodies.

If it sounds a little flaky, it is, but it takes a while to get there and it is built on a solid foundation. Weber has clearly spoken with many women going through the abortion decision and she shares some of their stories, and it is fascinating. There were also a lot of different ways of viewing abortion that I had never thought of, dropped like quick little asides in a book stuffed with ideas. Blink and you'll miss them!

What really made me think of my mother was Weber's tone; she has many things to say, a lot of advice to give, but it never comes across as even suggestions. It just sort of...flows. It is hard to describe, but I guess I feel like it comes across that Weber is a person who has spent a long time doing non-judgmental listening. The type of person who asks "And what does that mean to you?" or "How does that make you feel?". In a good way, of course. I have never had an abortion, but when I read this book I felt safe and loved. That's not nothing.

There were downsides, of course. I feel like someone who has not grown up being talked to this way might find Weber's tone to be flaky and even a bit cuckoo, especially the parts about spirit and "All That Is". So I don't know how accessible it is to your average person. On the other hand, for those who are open and receptive to it, it is a great read. It will change your ideas about abortion (if you read it with an open mind).

I feel like I can't make it any more obvious that I loved this book. I highly recommend it!

***

This review is part of a promotional blog tour - it was preceded by a review on Eve Laments on Nov. 16th and the next review is at The Abortion Monologues on Nov. 18. The author is planning an actual tour in February - keep an eye on the website for details.

Although I was asked to review this book I received no compensation for doing so and was encouraged to express my honest opinion. Nothing I've said in this blog post was influenced by the publisher in any way.

Book Corner: The Cider House Rules by John Irving

I know, this is another one that I'm years behind on. However, like The Handmaid's Tale, it's a better late than never kind of situation; if you've never read The Cider House Rules, you really ought to pick it up because it is quite frankly amazing.

I have always been a John Irving fan; my father's favourite book in the whole world is A Prayer for Owen Meany, and as a little book nerd of course I encountered it (earlier than I probably should have). I think Irving has a lovely style and a real knack for characters - he takes his time with them, letting the stories sort of unfold naturally. I have read a couple of his other books, including the horrifically under-rated, laugh-out-loud hilarious The Water-Method Man, which I recommend more highly than anything. It's a relatively short read and seriously, you will be crying with laughter from about page three.

Anyway, Cider House. A friend of mine has been telling me to read this for years, insisting I will like it because "it's about abortion". I knew one of the characters was an abortion doctor, but didn't think it could possibly be more than a subplot. But she was right - it is about abortion. Partially, of course. Really what it's about is rules: the rules we make for each other, the rules we find it acceptable to break, and the way the rules change in different situations, for different people. The story challenges a lot of rules - from social norms to laws - in a powerful but simultaneously gentle sort of way. Irving forces his characters (and readers) to examine the reasons for rules and for breaking them.

The book is, in short, about an orphanage run by the aging Dr. Larch, who takes in pregnant women overnight to deliver "an orphan or an abortion" - their choice - before sending them on their way. One of the orphans, Homer Wells, has a hard time getting adopted and soon accepts that he belongs at the orphanage, learning medicine from Dr. Larch. But the two men differ on their opinion of abortion (or "the Lord's work" as Larch calls it) and Homer eventually rejects the destiny Larch has set out for him, and leaves the orphanage with a beautiful young couple to work in their apple orchard and learn the rules in the outside world.

I can't really tell you any more about the plot - anyway, the plot is kind of beside the point. It's meandering and strange and really just background for Irving's true strengths as a writer: characters, themes and setting. This book could not have taken place anywhere other than coastal Maine, and the descriptions are totally evocative of that strange place. I'm telling you guys, this book is amazing. If it wasn't about abortion, they would teach it in high school writing classes. It is both technically perfect and emotionally strong.

Most of all I loved how Irving dealt with the abortion issue. His characters are sometimes preachy, but the story never is. It ends about twenty years before Roe v. Wade but the legality takes a back seat to the morality of it; the arguments and situations could easily apply today. I loved how the story even had sympathy for the back-alley butcher, whom Larch goes to see (and condemn) for her shoddy, life-threatening abortions. "At least I'm doing something!" she says. Indeed.

Larch's simple philosophy - that it is best to be of use - is probably a bit utilitarian for some people to accept as an argument backing up the availability of abortion. But I think the stronger driving force of Larch's character is his shameful early life, and his idea that he himself once made a bad sexual decision, and therefore it is not his right to judge the sexual decisions of others. The doctor is a humanizing element in the orphanage. He is simply a flawed person trying to do what is best - as is Homer Wells, whose experience with a young apple picker who has been the victim of incest neatly mirrors Larch's own awakening, in the back alley doctor's waiting room, with a young woman who has been impregnated by her father. A lifetime has made no difference in the demand for abortion, the reasons, the desperation. Irving gently, implicitly reminds us that the need will always exist - it is up to us whether we "play God" by making that decision for a woman.

I loved this book - in case that isn't clear. I think it is not only totally compelling, I also believe it provides some of the best arguments for abortion provision I have ever encountered. Not just legal abortion, mind, but actively providing abortions or ensuring women have access to them. This one gets ten fetus cookies out of ten.

Book Corner: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

So. I realize I am about twenty-five years too late on this review. However, I actually think this book might be more relevant now than it was when it was written, which is a mark of success, however bittersweet, for the author of a dystopian novel. And for my money, Atwood is the master of dystopia - I honestly think she is some kind of strange prophet or soothsayer. This shit is terrifying, and it’s terrifying because it is so real.

First let me say it does damage my Canadian feminist cred a bit to have not read this book until now, but hey, we all have flaws. I feel like coming to it later in my feminism is maybe a bad choice; I still loved it, but there were a lot of revelations and ideas that would have been revolutionary to me about five years ago. Stuff I had to find out on my own, without Atwood. That is sad, because I think I would always rather learn through Atwood.

For those unfamiliar with the plot, it is set in the not-so-distant future in the Republic of Gilead (formerly the USA). It is a theocracy of sorts, where women have narrowly defined roles and are marked by different coloured clothing. The story is told from the point of view of Offred, a handmaid, whose purpose is to produce children for a rich man and his wife. This new society is in its infancy and Offred (and the people in her life) can remember what it was like before.

Atwood apparently based the society (in part) on Iran, but there is nothing in the book that hasn’t happened somewhere, at some point. Her descriptions of the transition are particularly chilling because they are so believable. Looking at the politics in the USA right now (and to a lesser extent, Canada), yeah, the ideas are there. Thank goodness for the progressive voices speaking up. But when the narrator describes executed political prisoners hanging in public with signs denoting them as abortion providers, or “gender traitors”, it does not seem so far from our own world - the only difference is in our real life, it’s the citizens who do the killing; the government only offers politically expedient disapproval (depending on the government!).

I could take every single thing from the book and show a parallel with our current society, but that sounds painful. Instead I will just highly recommend that you read it - or if it’s been a long time since you’ve read it, give it another look. I think you’ll be surprised/horrified at how much more real it has become.

Also, I really want a “nolite te bastardes carborundorum” tattoo.

Book Corner: Broken Words by Jonathan Dudley

For this edition of the book corner, I read Broken Words: The Abuse of Science and Faith in American Politics, by Jonathan Dudley. For me this was a little bit of a break from my usual focus, because I do try to keep the focus on Canadian content here. There are a lot of blogs on the internet talking about abortion and reproductive rights/justice from an American POV and I'm trying to provide something a little different.

However, on the other side of that is the unsettling fact that the political landscape in Canada is growing ever more reminiscent of that of the USA. We are always a few years behind and a few notches less extreme, but our destinies as nations are so intertwined that it is probably pretty foolish to not pay attention to what is going on down there; like it or not, it's coming our way. So I think this book is, in a roundabout way, relevant to my focus.

I have read a few books about this kind of thing - the dangers of religious fundamentalism, the terrifying influence of Evangelical Christians on US politics - especially during my hardcore atheist days. One reason I began to get frustrated with the genre was that it's very much about preaching to the choir. So an element of Broken Words that I really liked was that the author was very upfront about his upbringing as an evangelical Christian, and is not afraid to incorporate that into the book. It is clear that he still believes in God and considers himself a Christian; instead of modelling a contemptuous atheism to readers, he shows a moderate understanding of his religion that coexists peacefully with his medical studies and his scientific knowledge and political views.

The book tackles the four big points of contention for Evangelical Christianity: gay marriage, evolution, abortion and the environment. Constant throughout is the theme of interpretation: for every Bible verse commonly used to support the Evangelical position, Dudley comes up with three or four that could just as easily be interpreted to oppose it. But the book is not an argument, nor is it about showing how "they" are wrong. What it is, is an exposure of the current Evangelical position as one invented for almost entirely political reasons, a fascinating (recent!) history of the ways in which religion has been used to control the American political landscape.

I suppose it will not shock you that I liked this book, but there you go. I will say that it is a refreshing take on a somewhat tired theme, and I would much rather read this than someone more established and maddeningly cynical, like Hitchens or Dawkins (although I would really rather read anything than Hitchens, because "not hating women" is a criterion I like to set for the authors I read). It is not, as I expected, yet another rallying cry for the atheist movement; it is a measured, thoughtful exploration of the difference between personal spirituality, and the religious manipulation of the public. I think some Christians might like it.

This appears to be Dudley's first book and there are certain touches that give it away - he is at times a bit too earnest, at other times a little too abstract. But he has a good "voice" and seems to have found himself a decent editor, and I for one hope to be hearing more from him in the future.

Eight fetus cookies out of ten.

Book Corner: Nobody's Child by Austin Boyd

Welcome to the inaugural edition of my book review feature! The following is my review of Nobody's Child by Austin Boyd.

The reason this book piqued my interest was that it dealt with an issue of reproductive health that I don't often deal with, from a viewpoint that differs from my own. It is written with the blessing and support of the Center for Bioethics & Human Dignity, an organization whose mission is as follows:

The Center for Bioethics & Human Dignity (CBHD) is a Christian bioethics research center ofTrinity International University that explores the nexus of biomedicine, biotechnology, and our common humanity. CBHD fosters a distinctly Christian conception of bioethics that is both academically rigorous and broadly accessible.

So. Clearly this book is going to be a challenge for me on an ideological level. However, I do have to say right off the bat that it was beautifully written and quite thoughtful. I expected to be hit over the head with the preachy Christian stuff, but the characters were rather understated in their faith and seemed to view it as a personal matter. There was even one self-identified non-Christian who was a good character, essential to the eventual triumph of (spoiler alert!) good over evil. Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of judgement flying around, but none of it seemed directed at the reader. I can get behind that.

The story is about a young woman named Laura Ann whose father dies in the opening chapters, and who feels she must keep the family farm intact on her own, protecting it against the (ridiculously, stereotypically) evil Uncle Jack (who beats his wife, in case you were wondering if he was the bad guy) and the uncaring money-lenders down at the bank. She donates a bunch of eggs to pay her father's medical bills, and then one of the women who used her eggs to get pregnant, Sophia, shows up on her doorstep to thank her, gets stuck there because of a flash flood, becomes Laura Ann's BFF, then (spoiler alert! But not really) dies. Oh no, what about the bebeh!

This is a novel that tries very hard to be less about what happens, and more about the ideas. A lot of it involves the set up of Laura Ann trying to keep her egg donation a secret, and musings about the morality of several different aspects of her life. Sophia doesn't show up until about halfway through the book, and the big-city news reporter cousin who has a big part in finally defeating Uncle Jack only gets about two chapters of play. Maybe because she's not into God. Although of course, as a single lady, Godless and independent, there's the obligatory scene (on Laura Ann's wedding day, no less) where she confesses how jealous she is of her happily-hetero-matched cousin and her simple country life. Sure.

Side note: Did you know there is such a thing as a book trailer? I didn't! Watch the one for this book and cringe heavily. How could this make you want to read it?

Ok so it sounds like I kinda liked the book, right? Well, I kinda did. I didn't agree with the author's analysis, and there were a lot of cultural quirks I had a hard time getting around (I guess people in Appalachia call their dads "Daddy" well into adulthood), but overall I thought it was a nice enough story and I was glad to see so many strong female characters (I can think of at least four in the book that might possibly be considered feminist). But there are three things that are stopping me from actually recommending this novel.

1. The attitude towards egg donation: I blogged a little bit about this here. Basically, I just could not get around the huge and incomprehensible (to me) plot point of how ashamed Laura Ann - and everyone else - was of her egg donation. Even the supportive people in her life, when they found out, were unhappy with her decision, or felt it was "the wrong decision for the right reasons". I just wanted to reach into the book, grab these characters and ask them what they thought would happen to the eggs if Laura Ann didn't donate them (spoiler alert: the toilet!). I mean really, people. I understand a little bit more where they're coming from (though I still don't agree) with regards to creating a baby from these donations, but in the end I feel like if a woman wants to sell her eggs - that she isn't using anyway!! - and someone is willing to buy them; well, what's the problem? No one shames Laura Ann for selling the wooden stools she makes in her workshop.

It doesn't surprise me that, given this attitude, donating eggs is often compared, explicitly and implicitly by various characters, to sex work. I believe the author and I are on different sides of these two issues for the same reasons. I also loved (*eyeroll*) the fact that Sophia had (of course!) been a sex worker (in a whole speech about her past that totally glosses over the reasons Latina women enter the sex trade - willingly or not - with nonsense about all the fancy clothes she was able to buy herself), and that the chlamydia she contracted eventually led, in part, to her death. Thanks for the really subtle lesson about women selling themselves, author.

In fact, the whole somewhat subtle messaging of the whole book sort of unraveled near the end, when Sophia dies (and we learn about the dangers of unprotected sex/sex work), a nurse testifies at the trial about how she used to work at the IVF clinic then left because she started to feel that the whole thing was morally distasteful (where have I heard that narrative before oh hello Abby Johnson...), and the introduction of the absolutely odious character of the judge, who is not only employed to explicitly state the moral of the story at the end of the book (seriously?), but who stops a trial in progress to give the following totally irrelevant personal view of other people's choices:

"Every day I see this ad for a genetics company out in Utah. It sickens me, to tell you the truth. They offer paternity testing, as if a woman needs a test to tell her who the father of her baby is. But I guess that's where our country is headed. Men and women sleeping around so much they don't know who the baby's daddy is."

Seriously.

2. The courtroom scenes: Okay, so clearly the author did a lot of research about egg donation and IVF, and that comes through in the book. However the courtroom scenes are so ridiculous as to be distracting, and I know nothing about American law. But I can tell you that a judge who engages in this many ethics violations is going to be removed from the case at the very least. I find it incredibly ironic that he is apparently supposed to be the unbiased voice of reason at the end of the novel - and that when he is summing up the whole adventure, it is while he is sitting in his chambers, with the defendant, talking about the case that just ended. Not OK! Really there were way too many problems with the legal stuff for me to go into here, but it made it very difficult to get through those chapters.

3. The Ian character: Ian is the love interest for Laura Ann, in a really boring romantic subplot that involves no surprises whatsoever. What bothers me about Ian - besides the fact that he is needed at all; Laura Ann is always doing the damsel-in-distress bit for him but I'm pretty sure she'd be okay without him - is that he is quite clearly emotionally abusive, and that doesn't seem to matter to anyone, least of all the author. It's as if there can only be one kind of emotional abuse - the kind where Uncle Jack doesn't let his wife go out, and he says mean things to her. Which is legitimately bad stuff, but its existence doesn't discount the fact that emotional abuse can also mean, oh I don't know, emotional blackmail like implying you will dump someone if they don't tell you their personal medical history. Or, you know, implicitly (but obviously) blaming your partner when people in town talk about her being a whore. Or being a violent asshole who punches people for spreading that rumour. All of which Ian does. Because he is an abusive asshole. Who Laura Ann likes to dress up in her dad's (sorry, Daddy's) overalls and snuggle chastely.

Yeah that whole thing for me was pretty bad.

I guess, in conclusion, I could almost recommend this book as a thoughtful take on the intersection of modern reproductive technology with "traditional" religious values, regardless of where you fall on the religion side of things. But I can't in good faith recommend it to everyone because it is potentially triggering in its endorsement of Ian's abusive behaviour. If you feel that you can get around this, please do give the book a read because if nothing else, it's always a pleasant surprise to find well-written "Christian fiction". But if it all seems a bit ridiculous to you, I would recommend just having another hearty chuckle over the trailer and then going on your merry way.

Six fetus cookies out of ten.

Potential New Feature: Book Corner!

My commute to work is about forty-five minutes (one way) - which is below average in Toronto - and so I like to have a little bit of leisure reading to keep my mind occupied. I was relieved recently to have finally finished with a not particularly enjoyable book club mandated read, but unfortunately I can't get back into the good stuff yet: I'm doing a book review.

Yes, I'm reviewing a book for the blog. I get these emails from time to time offering a free copy for review of books with varying tenuous links to the subject matter of the blog. Recently I finally decided to take someone up on the offer. In fact, two someones, although only one of the books has arrived.

I won't say much yet about this particular book, as I'm in the middle of it now and I want to save the good stuff for the review, but let's just say I never realized that reproductive rights could be such a fertile (hur hur) topic for fiction. I am beginning to think maybe there is more out there. This one that I'm reading deals with egg donation, but there must be others, maybe about unwanted pregnancy/abortion, birth control, etc. Could be interesting.

So I think if this goes well, I might make book reviews a semi-regular feature on the blog. Obviously I am not super famous/visible and thus am not getting a lot of these books sent to me, so if people have suggestions for books that I should read, I will gladly hear you out. And probably buy them (or borrow them from the library!). It would be great to know what's out there. All perspectives are welcome, too - this one I'm reading now is definitely Christian and kind of a shit show, but I'm gonna review it anyway!

Let me know in comments of any books you can think of, or email me: pedgehog@gmail.com. Also if you wrote a book, holy crap let me know!