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How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran
The Blurb On The Back:
1913 – Suffragette throws herself under the King’s horse.
1970 – Feminists storm Miss World.
NOW – Caitlin Moran rewrites The Female Eunuch from a bar stool and demand to know why pants are getting smaller.
There’s never been a better time to be a woman: we have the vote and the Pill, and we haven’t been burnt as witches since 1727. However, a few nagging questions to do remain …
Why are we supposed to get Brazilians? Should we use Botox? Do men secretly hate us? What should you call your vagina? Why does your bra hurt? And why does everyone ask you when you’re going to have a baby?
Part memoir, part rant, Caitlin Moran answers these questions and more in How To Be A Woman - following her from her terrible 13th birthday (“I am 13 stone, have no friends, and boys throw gravel at me when they see me”) through adolescence, the workplace, strip-clubs, love, being fat, abortion, TopShop, motherhood and beyond.
Caitlin Moran examines what it means to be a woman in the 21st century in the context of her own journey to becoming a “strident feminist”. Moran covers a variety of topics, including cosmetic surgery, waxing, abortion, child birth, underwear, lingerie, marriage and female role models. She writes in a chatty style that’s slightly breathy and high on exclamation marks and random capitalisation, which I liked that but if you’re looking for a serious feminist tract, then it probably isn’t for you.
Growing up in Wolverhampton in a big, poor family, Moran was fat and unattractive. Her anecdotes about her childhood, relationship with her sisters and her burgeoning sexuality are the strongest parts of the book because they’re the sections where it’s easiest to connect with her but her description of her abortion and the birth of her first child are also powerful and moving.
The feminist sections were more problematic. Although I didn’t agree with all her opinions, I found that the points I disagreed on helped me to sharpen my own opinion. I thought that Moran is spot on about waxing, diminishing knicker size and the basic premise of whether a man would be doing what a woman does. However, some of her arguments are contradictory – e.g. lap dancing and strip clubs are bad because they denigrate women but porn would be great if they showed women having real orgasms; Katie Price is bad because Moran doesn’t approve of how she treats people around her but Lady Gaga is a feminist icon because Moran got to hang out with her in a bisexual German sex club.
Much of what Moran says about role models are framed in the prism of celebrity, which makes sense given that this is the world she knows, but I didn’t find any of her examples relevant to me or people I know. Her adulation of Lady Gaga doesn’t question the extent to which her messages of equality are mere corporate gimmickry (particularly frustrating given the cursory mention of the Spice Girls and their manufactured Girl Power) and for someone who criticises the cult of thinness, her heroines all seem to be thin.
This isn’t a feminist bible – despite what the marketers want you to think – but it is a good starting point, if only to make you assess what you believe about those issues. For that reason, this book is worth a look.
The Verdict:
Caitlin Moran’s book is part breezy memoir, part breezier feminist polemic that’s told in a breathy, chatty style, which is accessible but not for you if you’re looking for a serious book on feminism. For me, the best parts are those about Moran’s childhood and her relationship with her family, but the actual feminist sections were more of a mixed bag and although I didn’t agree with everything she said (and found some of it contradictory and lacking in analysis) it did help me to form my own opinions on the same subject. It’s for this reason that the book’s worth a look.
1970 – Feminists storm Miss World.
NOW – Caitlin Moran rewrites The Female Eunuch from a bar stool and demand to know why pants are getting smaller.
There’s never been a better time to be a woman: we have the vote and the Pill, and we haven’t been burnt as witches since 1727. However, a few nagging questions to do remain …
Why are we supposed to get Brazilians? Should we use Botox? Do men secretly hate us? What should you call your vagina? Why does your bra hurt? And why does everyone ask you when you’re going to have a baby?
Part memoir, part rant, Caitlin Moran answers these questions and more in How To Be A Woman - following her from her terrible 13th birthday (“I am 13 stone, have no friends, and boys throw gravel at me when they see me”) through adolescence, the workplace, strip-clubs, love, being fat, abortion, TopShop, motherhood and beyond.
Caitlin Moran examines what it means to be a woman in the 21st century in the context of her own journey to becoming a “strident feminist”. Moran covers a variety of topics, including cosmetic surgery, waxing, abortion, child birth, underwear, lingerie, marriage and female role models. She writes in a chatty style that’s slightly breathy and high on exclamation marks and random capitalisation, which I liked that but if you’re looking for a serious feminist tract, then it probably isn’t for you.
Growing up in Wolverhampton in a big, poor family, Moran was fat and unattractive. Her anecdotes about her childhood, relationship with her sisters and her burgeoning sexuality are the strongest parts of the book because they’re the sections where it’s easiest to connect with her but her description of her abortion and the birth of her first child are also powerful and moving.
The feminist sections were more problematic. Although I didn’t agree with all her opinions, I found that the points I disagreed on helped me to sharpen my own opinion. I thought that Moran is spot on about waxing, diminishing knicker size and the basic premise of whether a man would be doing what a woman does. However, some of her arguments are contradictory – e.g. lap dancing and strip clubs are bad because they denigrate women but porn would be great if they showed women having real orgasms; Katie Price is bad because Moran doesn’t approve of how she treats people around her but Lady Gaga is a feminist icon because Moran got to hang out with her in a bisexual German sex club.
Much of what Moran says about role models are framed in the prism of celebrity, which makes sense given that this is the world she knows, but I didn’t find any of her examples relevant to me or people I know. Her adulation of Lady Gaga doesn’t question the extent to which her messages of equality are mere corporate gimmickry (particularly frustrating given the cursory mention of the Spice Girls and their manufactured Girl Power) and for someone who criticises the cult of thinness, her heroines all seem to be thin.
This isn’t a feminist bible – despite what the marketers want you to think – but it is a good starting point, if only to make you assess what you believe about those issues. For that reason, this book is worth a look.
The Verdict:
Caitlin Moran’s book is part breezy memoir, part breezier feminist polemic that’s told in a breathy, chatty style, which is accessible but not for you if you’re looking for a serious book on feminism. For me, the best parts are those about Moran’s childhood and her relationship with her family, but the actual feminist sections were more of a mixed bag and although I didn’t agree with everything she said (and found some of it contradictory and lacking in analysis) it did help me to form my own opinions on the same subject. It’s for this reason that the book’s worth a look.