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Un bel libro, una storia al tempo stesso intelligente e molto divertente che con leggerezza e arguto sarcasmo affronta il tema importante e, purtroppo, ancora attuale della condizione della donna e del suo essere soggetta al patriarcato. Le vicende di Liz, con le sue continue lotte per essere considerata solo per ciò che vale in un settore spiccatamente maschilista, sono narrate con quella giusta ironia che ne rende estremamente godibile la lettura. Un libro che consiglio a tutti perché con leggerezza aiuta a riflettere su un problema, purtroppo, ancor oggi irrisolto. ( )
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For my mother, Mary Swallow Garmus
Incipit
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Back in 1961, when women wore shirtwaist dresses and joined garden clubs and drove legions of children around in seatbeltless cars without giving a second thought; back before anyone knew there’d even be a sixties movement, much less one that it’s participants would spend the next sixty years chronicling: back when the big wars were over and the secret wars had just begun and people were starting to think and believe everything was possible, the thirty-year-old mother of Madeline Zott rose before dawn every morning and felt certain of just one thing: her life was over.
Citazioni
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"Look," he said, "life has never been fair, and yet you continue to operate as if it is—as if once you get a few wrongs straightened out, everything else will fall into place. They won't. You want my advice?" And before she could say no, he added, "Don't work the system. Outsmart it."
If relationships are a puzzle, then theirs was solved from the get-go—as if someone shook out the box and watched from above as each separate piece landed exactly right, slipping one into the other, fully interlocked, into a picture that made perfect sense. They made other couples sick.
Thus the topic of family was like a cordoned-off room on a historic home tour.
"Call it a family tradition. Dying in accidents."
"No, I mean, was she also very religious?" Elizabeth hesitated. "Only if you count greed as a religion."
"People like my father preach love but are filled with hate."
"When I was a kid," Calvin said quietly, "I used to tell myself every day was new. That anything could happen."
Last week she'd peeked in on Mad during naptime and found the child sitting up in her crib explaining something in earnest to Six-Thirty. Elizabeth had hung back, watching in wonder as the baby, wobbling back and forth like a bowling pin threatening to topple, waved her hands as she chattered a steady stream of consonants and vowels strung together haphazardly, like laundry on a line, but delivered with the kind of passion that made it clear she was an expert in this area.
Having a baby, Elizabeth realized, was a little like living with a visitor from a distant planet. There was a certain amount of give and take as the visitor learned your ways and you learned theirs, but gradually their ways faded and your ways stuck. Which she found regrettable. Because unlike adults, her visitor never tired of even the smallest discovery; always saw the magic in the ordinary.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask: Why do you think so many people believe in texts written thousands of years ago? And why does it seem the more supernatural, unprovable, improbable, and ancient the source of these texts, the more people believe them?"
The room filled with a thick silence, the weight of her ridiculous dream hanging like too-wet laundry on a windless day.
"He not only knew I belonged, he also knew I was onto something. The truth is, he stole my research. Published it and passed it off as his own." Roth's eyes widened. "I quit the same day." "Why didn't you tell the publication?" he said. "Why didn't you demand credit?" Elizabeth looked at Roth as if he lived on some other planet.
"Imagine if all men took women seriously. Education would change. The workforce would revolutionize. Marriage counselors would go out of business."
"When women understand these basic concepts, they can begin to see the false limits that have been created for them." "You mean by men." "I mean by artificial cultural and religious policies that put men in the highly unnatural role of single-sex leadership."
"I agree that society leaves much to be desired, but when it comes to religion, I tend to think it humbles us—teaches us our place in the world." "Really?" she said, surprised. "I think it lets us off the hook. I think it teaches us that nothing is really our fault; that something or someone else is pulling the strings; that ultimately, we're not to blame for the way things are; that to improve things, we should pray. But the truth is, we are very much responsible for the badness in the world. And we have the power to fix it." "But surely you're not suggesting that humans can fix the universe." "I'm speaking of fixing us, Mr. Roth—our mistakes. Nature works on a higher intellectual plane. We can learn more, we can go further, but to accomplish this, we must throw open the doors. Too many brilliant minds are kept from scientific research thanks to ignorant biases like gender and race. It infuriates me and it should infuriate you. Science has big problems to solve: famine, disease, extinction. And those who purposefully close the door to others using self-serving, outdated cultural notions are not only dishonest, they're knowingly lazy."
Ultime parole
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3
Le vicende di Liz, con le sue continue lotte per essere considerata solo per ciò che vale in un settore spiccatamente maschilista, sono narrate con quella giusta ironia che ne rende estremamente godibile la lettura.
Un libro che consiglio a tutti perché con leggerezza aiuta a riflettere su un problema, purtroppo, ancor oggi irrisolto.
(