Present Out Of Books The Vagina Monologues
Title | : | The Vagina Monologues |
Author | : | Eve Ensler |
Book Format | : | Paperback |
Book Edition | : | First Edition |
Pages | : | Pages: 185 pages |
Published | : | May 3rd 2001 by Virago Press Ltd. (first published 1996) |
Categories | : | Feminism. Nonfiction. Plays. Drama. Theatre. Womens. Gender. Gender Studies |
Eve Ensler
Paperback | Pages: 185 pages Rating: 3.88 | 27572 Users | 1967 Reviews
Chronicle Toward Books The Vagina Monologues
My vagina is a shell, a round pink tender shell, opening and closing, closing and opening. My vagina is a flower, an eccentric tulip, the center acute and deep, the scent delicate, the petals gentle but sturdy.
No it isn't. It isn't a flower, it isn't a tulip, it isn't a shell or a piece of coral or an exotic orchid. It's a tract of epithelial tissue, just like everyone else's.
Don't get me wrong, vaginas are lovely – I'm a massive fan – but these monologues represent the sort of facile, pseudo-feminist waffle that is actually anti-feminist. First of all, it's questionable that reducing women to their vaginas can really be helpful in the first place; but since that's the premise of the whole thing, I won't go on about it. More to the point though, this is simply the other side of the coin from standard, run-of-the-mill patriarchy: the idea that women are ‘other’ – wild, mysterious, lunar creatures, with baffling anatomies and magical hidden depths that can be reawakened if they would only discover themselves and get comfortable with their own menstrual blood. It's just utter bullshit from start to finish. Or it's not what I believe, anyway: I think women are just normal people, same as men are. Why can't someone write a play about that revolutionary idea.
I do feel bad slagging this off, because the stories in here are clearly meaningful for the people that experienced them, and maybe if you have had a certain kind of upbringing then this might be useful or liberating. I don't want to devalue the positive experiences some people have obviously found here. Particularly when I don't have a vagina myself. But Christ, it's all so po-faced and earnest and humourless. My wife has never seen it staged but she started the book and threw it across the room on page 46. The passage that finally finished her:
My vagina amazed me. I couldn't speak when it came my turn in the workshop. I was speechless. I had awakened to what the woman who ran the workshop called “vaginal wonder.” I just wanted to lie there on my mat, my legs spread, examining my vagina forever.
It was better than the Grand Canyon, ancient and full of grace. It had the innocence and freshness of a proper English garden. It was funny, very funny. It made me laugh. It could hide and seek, open and close. It was a mouth. It was the morning.
(‘Why do Americans have to turn every part of my body into some psycho-sexual epiphany?’ — Hannah.) OK, this book isn't aimed at me. And it's probably not cool to borrow Hannah's reactions to try and make my own review seem more valid. But with all of that said and understood, my own humble opinion for what little it's worth is that this goes for lazy, feel-good ‘community’ spirit at the expense of genuine insight, and I suspect that ultimately it's pointing gender relations in the wrong direction. Maybe it's a generational thing.
Describe Books Conducive To The Vagina Monologues
Original Title: | The Vagina Monologues |
ISBN: | 1860499260 (ISBN13: 9781860499265) |
Edition Language: | English |
Rating Out Of Books The Vagina Monologues
Ratings: 3.88 From 27572 Users | 1967 ReviewsAssess Out Of Books The Vagina Monologues
I've been meaning to read or see The Vagina Monologues for a long time. Someone was talking about it, as people often do, and I realised it was available on the Kindle store, so I got it.It's a very quick read. It's not an easy read. There's discussion of self-loathing, of embarrassment and shame, of sexual assault and violence against women, of statutory rape. It might also not be easy for you if you can't read the word 'vagina' without getting uncomfortable, or if you don't like the word
"I did not see my vagina as my primary resource, a place of sustenance, humor and creativity."You know, I don't see it that way, either. I thought the source of all that was my brain.I must not have been abused enough as a girl, because I always feel like vagina-centric art projects like this reduce me to a piece of anatomy just as much as does the alleged male fantasy of big boobs and miles of leg.Which is not to say that there weren't/aren't some seriously screwed-up ideas about female
Thank you, Secret Santa. ♥5 It May Not Be Perfect, but its a start! StarsI may not have grown up in a down there age, but I most definitely grew up in a down there house. I dont remember ever having open dialogue with my mother about vaginas growing up, not once. Or maybe once, actually, when we discussed menstruation. This sign of womanhood that brought about nightmares of waking up in puddles of blood that could be hidden with scraps of material bunched around your underwear making you waddle
I was worried about my own vagina. It needed a context of other vaginas... there's so much secrecy surrounding them- like the Bermuda Triangle."This book, or rather a play, became a large political movement. The words in this book, even 20ish years after its release, feels radical to read. Eve Ensler wrote this play after her interactions with women and opening up a rather taboo subject- vaginas. Women's sexuality was a taboo subject, shrouded in darkness and shameful to discuss. Eve Ensler does
My vagina is a shell, a round pink tender shell, opening and closing, closing and opening. My vagina is a flower, an eccentric tulip, the center acute and deep, the scent delicate, the petals gentle but sturdy. No it isn't. It isn't a flower, it isn't a tulip, it isn't a shell or a piece of coral or an exotic orchid. It's a tract of epithelial tissue, just like everyone else's.Don't get me wrong, vaginas are lovely I'm a massive fan but these monologues represent the sort of facile,
My vagina is a shell, a round pink tender shell, opening and closing, closing and opening. My vagina is a flower, an eccentric tulip, the center acute and deep, the scent delicate, the petals gentle but sturdy. No it isn't. It isn't a flower, it isn't a tulip, it isn't a shell or a piece of coral or an exotic orchid. It's a tract of epithelial tissue, just like everyone else's.Don't get me wrong, vaginas are lovely I'm a massive fan but these monologues represent the sort of facile,
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