September 2024

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It is an astoundingly simple proposition, and yet here we are.

I shared this blog post about the men who dislike women and how we can tell on my Facebook page, and immediately, friends and acquaintances leapt in to discuss it. Most women were like “yep, that tracks.” Some men were like “Wow, I’d never thought about it that way before,” and I thanked them for taking the time to read it, because really, what system of oppression (and patriarchy is one among many) incentivizes those with power and privilege to actually sit and ponder it? Very few if any.

Then there were some men who wanted to add nuance. Which, sure, nuance is great!

But I noticed at least some of the comments came down to the following: Well, I do like women and enjoy their company, but I don’t act as though I do, because I don’t want them to get the wrong impression (that I’m flirting, that I’m available, etc.). And on the one hand, this is totally valid, because not everyone is available for every romantic configuration at every moment, and no one should have to be – so if people are assuming you are, and that’s making it weird, then yes, dispel that assumption with whichever tools you have at your disposal! And the guys on my Facebook page were respectful in their discussion, so this isn’t aimed at them as much as the general responses I see to this conversation.

However, something strikes me as odd about this idea, that men must manage women’s expectations by acting in unfriendly, antisocial, and even cold ways.

I figure that every single one of these men has social interactions that don’t revolve around the premise or promise of courtship without making it weird. They manage to have daily interactions – from the friendly to the mundane – without making it about sex.

How, dear reader, is such a thing possible?

These men are interacting with other men (and apologies for the assumption of heterosexuality here, it’s among the patterns I noticed in commenters on my post).

In the social world, men interact with other men as part of business transactions, while shopping, while dining, while doing a whole ton of activities. And unless I am missing out on some rad gay subtext happening 24/7 in mainstream social spaces, most of these men are probably managing to do so without hitting on or being hit on.

This is what most of us women want: we want to be treated as human, as a whole-ass person who can have conversations and manage business transactions and throw parties and play sports. If (presumed straight) men can manage to interact with other (presumed straight) men and have a friendly chat while doing whatever other task brings these people together in that moment, why would such a thing not be possible when interacting with women?

And yes, this is a throwback to feminist scholar Catherin MacKinnon’s classic “Are Women Human?” essay, wherein she repeatedly asks the titular question while listing numerous well-documented and sadly common instances of violence against women (rape, assault, domestic violence, street harassment, labor and sex trafficking) and asking why, in each instance, these aren’t framed as horrific human rights abuses to be battled but rather are seen as unfortunate things that simply happen repeatedly to women, as if by complete happenstance.

So I don’t mean to conflate the human subject with the masculine subject; culture has already done it for me! Hence I am borrowing some useful shorthand.

The scenarios men seem to be playing out are ones where they want to avoid inappropriate types of social conduct (wherein sexual availability is falsely presumed), and so refusing to engage with women is the way to go.

Now, I will grant that some men might hesitate to fully engage because they know many women are hit on, preyed on, objectified, and the like, which is an especial bummer when we’re just trying to live our daily lives and suddenly have to live with the reminder that some people see us as walking sex banks (don’t be that guy! Or gal, on the occasions when it happens!). Some men know they occupy tall and large bodies, and want to avoid coming across as threatening. That’s legit too.

But overall, I see some troubling assumptions embedded in these conversations, and so I feel compelled to reminder y’all: WOMEN AND MEN ARE NOT SEPARATE SPECIES!!!

And the really problematic theme I see embedded above is that men apparently feel they need to treat women differently than they’d treat a “regular” person (a.k.a. a fellow man)…because they are worried that women will treat them differently (as a sex object, a conquest, and so on).

Here is where my irony-meter goes through the roof: my good dudes, while this may seem like a problem to navigate when you encounter sexually aggressive women, this too is a symptom of patriarchy. Many women are socially conditioned to pursue higher-status male partners because we goddamn know we’re paid less, and we’re not gonna get maternity leave in this hellhole of a country, and nobody is going to protect us from all the horrific kinds of assaults visited upon women (and often in much worse ways upon women of color and trans women) unless we explicitly recruit those people to our sides by, I dunno, putting a ring on it or whatever. And don’t get me started on how domestic spaces are often even more dangerous for women; I’ll drag out my favorite terrible stat from the CDC about how half of American female homicide victims are killed by present or past male partners.

Feeling like someone doesn’t respect your boundaries or consent, hence you need to put up barriers that make you seem rude or cold or misogynist? That’s a patriarchy problem, because patriarchy teaches that sexual conquest = status, mostly for men, but women are starting to be able to take advantage of this attitude too without the only option being slut-shaming.

Feeling crummy and like someone only wants you for your money? Granted there are greedy people out there of every gender who are just assholes regardless, but, and say it with me: That’s a patriarchy problem, because Western women for centuries couldn’t own property because we WERE the property, and so snagging a man was the most reliable way of guaranteeing one’s quality of life. (brief addendum to remind that the transatlantic slave trade also made people into property, with ongoing consequences even today in terms of generational wealth disparities, state criminalization and violence, and so on; these facts can be discussed in conjunction without detracting from the severity of one another because white supremacy and patriarchy enable one another, and hopefully drawing attention to one starts to poke holes in the armor of the other)

Feeling like it’s more respectful to engage with a woman’s partner socially before engaging with her socially? That’s a patriarchy problem, because it classifies women according to their relationship to the nearest man, making men the gatekeepers of women’s ability to have a social life, just like men have long been the gatekeeper’s of whether women could enter male-dominated fields, or get medical procedures like hysterectomies, ands so on.

And of course—of friggin’ course—the irony-meter is going off when men say things like “it’s really uncomfortable to have women sexually pursue me and treat me like a conquest when I’ve already said I’m married,” because that is an experience women have all the damn time. Yes, it genuinely sucks! People shouldn’t do that to other people! It’s rude! But the overall pattern that exists in this world is one where men relentlessly pursue women, up to and including throwing harassment and violence into the mix, and so when a dude experiences this treatment from women, it is by definition and by the weight of empirical evidence a less common problem, hence not the one I want to devote extensive resources and bandwidth to. Again, yes, very crappy to experience that, but as I’ve pointed out above, these are patriarchy problems, as well as individual-people-being-assholes-regardless-of-gender problems.

One of the reasons why we keep having these damn conversations, and keep trying to explain using clear language what it’s like to be a woman stonewalled by men, or talked over, or whatever, is that by the very definition of being marginalized and socially oppressed, we cannot get our oppressors to listen to us. This is true for pretty much every social justice issue; this is why bystander interventions matter; because dudes are more likely to listen to other dudes than to listen to women, since women are presented as lower-status, less-intelligent, far-more-likely-to-be-hysterical irrational beings who are mostly good for having sex and having babies. We are constantly gaslit about our own experiences, social and professional and medical and more.

So yes, we need dudes tuning into these conversations and realizing “huh, yeah, that’s problematic” and speaking up when they see this behavior from other dudes. Because they’re more likely to be listened to and believed than we are.

If my tone is off-puttingly aggressive, please consider that a) tone policing is bullshit, and b) many of us women have experienced these frustrating dismissals a ton, and we’re tired of being polite about it. It sucks to feel sidelined and dismissed, and my guess is that a lot of dudes can relate, perhaps because racial or class-based discrimination has factored into your lives. So even if gender discrimination is still something you’re trying to wrap your head around because you haven’t experienced it much, chances are good that in this shitty racist and classist society, you’ve been put down for a trait that is not your fault, that is some arbitrary nonsense, and that hurt. The parallels don’t always function 100% but hopefully you see what I’m getting at—being judged and treated differently for an inborn trait suuuucks, and by being a dude who listens to women when we have these conversations, you have the chance to make a difference and stop perpetuating those small acts of bigotry and prejudice that add up and make things shittier.

To conclude, for fuck’s sake, please treat women like people. Don’t make it weird by assuming that you need to jump through all these bizarre hoops in order to fulfill the minimum politeness required in social interactions. Just, like, talk to us like human beings!

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A series of books with colorful spines stacked to form a rainbow pattern

I’ve been writing book reviews for over twenty years now, but when I began, I didn’t really know what I was doing. So to help my colleagues who are newer to this area of academic writing, I’ll share what I’ve learned over the years!

This blog post is structured in the way that makes most sense to me: understanding what academic book reviews are, who their audience is, how they should be structured and styled, and miscellaneous concerns (which are range from the amusing to the deeply ethical). Also, putting this up front so nobody misses it: this is unpaid labor, unfortunately, but you should at least get a free book out of it. If someone’s asking you to write a book review but not making sure you’re getting a copy, what even?!

First, why do book reviews exist? Well, nobody has time to read every new book that comes out in their academic discipline every year. Even the superstars who can hyper-focus don’t manage it. So it’s helpful when academic journals – and I think every major academic journal does this, someone please correct me if I’m wrong – have a section where they publish reviews of major books that have come out in the last few years. And here’s another unfortunate caveat: academic publishing is sloooow, so sometimes a book isn’t reviewed til after it’s been out for a while, and if the journal is held up in getting the most recent issue out (which happens a lot, say, during/after the major disruption of a global pandemic), a book review may not appear for a while, up to 3-5 years after a book’s publication. So it’s not a perfect system, but it’s what we’ve got.

Who is the audience for book reviews? Mostly fellow academics, but as the ivory tower crumbles, we get a whole bunch of people in our audiences who are alt-ac or part-time or some flavor of adjacent to academia, so we can’t necessarily assume only a specialist audience. Plus, gatekeeping is stupid, so we will get lay experts and folks who have put in the time and work to learn how to do research in a given field, whether or not they have degrees in that field.

Because we expect a disciplinary specialist audience for book reviews – or readers who are close enough, or adjacent or interested for other reasons – the tone and style of book reviews tend to be on the slightly formal side, with jargon allowed if it’s commonly used in the discipline. So for example, I’m one of the book review editors at Marvels & Tales, which is the premier North American journal of fairy-tale studies, and hence I expect my readers to have some sense that fairy tales go deeper than Disney, to know what I mean when I refer to structuralism or the ATU index, to know the names and contributions of a handful of major scholars, and so on. And if they don’t know those things, I expect them to be proficient enough researchers to learn them on the fly, in case anything in a text isn’t quite making sense to them.

Otherwise, we tend to prefer clear, direct language; since book reviews don’t have a single overarching idea or argument or thesis statement like academic articles do, you don’t need to get into the convoluted phrasing that many academic authors churn out. Tell the reader what the book’s about, how well you think it accomplishes its aims, in which contexts it might be useful, and you’re basically good to go. This can generally be done in around one thousand words, which is handily enough what the suggested word count at my home base journal is.

How you structure a review is somewhat subjective; commonly you’ll see an opening paragraph describing the premise of the book, some middle paragraphs going through the book chapter by chapter or topic by topic, and a concluding paragraph or two talking about the book’s strong points, flaws, and/or potential uses. But I’ve seen reviewers choose to go through a book’s points in terms of themes or arguments instead of chronologically, and that’s fine too. Sometimes it helps to add context, like if you know that the author has recently pivoted in their career from researching X thing to researching Y thing, or if you know that a book covers a controversial topic in a field.

Speaking of controversy, how blunt should you be if you don’t like the book or disagree with its premise or findings? Well…it’s unlikely that a complete pile of trash will make it through the academic publication process, since that takes years and will have multiple sets of eyes on it. But it does sometimes happen. If you think a book is legit terrible, you can always contact the review editor and be like, “is this book even a suitable fit for your journal? my impression was…” or whatever. Even if a book is not your cup of tea, it probably wouldn’t have been published if it had absolutely no merit, so your job is to locate those good things and mention them.

An academic book review, however, needs to do more than summarize. This is not just your high school book report genre; yes, you should include some summary so your reader gets a sense of what the book is about in case they haven’t read it yet, but you need to also do the brainier heavy-lifting to identify the significance of this book in a larger academic context. Here are some topics you may want to touch on your book review:

  • How well the author is positioned to write this particular book (what are their credentials? have they published in this area before?)
  • What the author is using as evidence, and how they obtained it? (if analyzing, say, a collection of fairy tales, as happens often in books we might review for Marvels & Tales, when/where was the text published, and in which language, and if not in English, who translated it? if the book’s author did their own fieldwork to collect/obtain cultural data, what are the details of that situation?)
  • Which methods and/or theories the author is bringing to this project (major trends in fairy-tale studies, for example, have included structuralism, feminist theory, queer theory, disability studies, Marxist/cultural studies, psychoanalysis, and more recently, critical race theory)
  • What the author’s main claims are (a.k.a. their thesis statement or central argument; what is the point of this book, what is their “go big or go home” moment, etc.)
  • What the the book’s contribution is, or how we might conceive of its overall significance (is it a new translation of an important text or something more minor, or perhaps the only translation that exists in a given language? is it the first book applying X theory to Y topic? is it poised to become a foundational text in a certain subfield, or does it continue a conversation that a foundational text began?)
  • In which contexts the book might be used, or might prove useful (is this something you’d assign in a college course? or is it more likely to gather dust on your bookshelf until you need it for a super specific project?)
  • And, specifically continuing to think about which kind of college course this might be useful in, are you thinking more of a general, “intro-to-???” course, or more of a specialized course for majors, or even graduate students? If you don’t feel prepared to address this, consider whether that’s because you’re out of touch with something you should perhaps be in touch with in order to be a good fit for this review, or if this is legit an academic gatekeeping issue because despite having one of the best educations in your field you’ve never been given the chance to supervise grad students (*stares in yes, this is meant to sound like something I’m personally upset about*), you can always ask a colleague who’s more in touch with that experience for their thoughts on it

Finally, you may get lucky and score a book that doesn’t relate to anything political or controversial, but that seems unlikely in this current world. Journal editors may reserve the right to tone down incendiary language, or ask you to reframe your comments. Commenting on outright misogyny, racism, etc. is usually acceptable, and if you want to get a bit sassy with your tone, I know that I as an editor am fine with that choice. But again, be aware that there’s often a lag between the submission of your review and its appearance (possibly up to a year or two or more, thanks to academic publishing moving soooo sloooow), so a clever remark about a current event may end up not-so-current once your review goes live.

This may sound like a lot, but don’t be intimidated! As my co-editor at Marvels & Tales, Julie Koehler, points out, book reviews can be a great first publication for newer scholars simply trying to get used to getting published. The process is very similar (being in touch with editors over email, revisions, etc.) and this can still go on your CV, so you can get acquainted with the process and get a nice-looking publication out of it. This familiarity with the process might help you be less freaked out when it comes time to try to submit a journal article.

Staying on that topic for a moment: we editors are only human, so please give us grace, and we’ll try to extend the same to you. If you find you absolutely cannot complete a book review you agreed to do, please get in touch! We can have you mail the book back to us and we’ll find another suitable reviewer. Even though it feels crummy to have to back out of an agreement, please don’t wallow in shame and ignore our emails. And I’ve been on both sides of this; I currently owe two reviews to two different journals and they might be, errr, three-ish years overdue, which I definitely feel crappy about, but none of the editors have reached out to reassign the book or be like “wtf, mate?” so I am gonna try to buckle up and get them done over winter break (which, granted, is what I said last year). So…we know stuff can get weird, it’s fine, just keep us posted and let us know if an insurmountable obstacle arises so we can make another plan if need be.

Seriously, we’re not here to be downers or gatekeepers. However, with academia trending towards contingent labor rather than full-on tenured professors, it’s becoming a strange situation. Like, in my NTT (non-tenure-track) position, research and publishing are not technically even in my job description…so I guess I do them for funsies because I’m an overachieving masochist? And service at my university “counts” for more in my job evaluations than service to my discipline more broadly, so this time-consuming review editor job I’ve taken on…basically does not “count” for my actual-pays-the-bills job, unlike for my tenured colleagues who teach lighter course loads (for more money!) since they have research and publishing expectations built into their jobs.

In my own field of folklore studies, we have spent a long time (seriously, decades) bemoaning the lack of professionalization of the discipline, but ironically, can we really call ourselves professionals if we literally can’t make a full-time living doing our jobs? As I point out in my article “Theorizing from the Margins” (Journal of Folklore Research, Vol. 58, No. 3, 2021), this tension has rather sobering implications: “Putting the burden of service to the discipline on those who are not employed fulltime within the discipline—and in the US context especially, where lacking full-time employment might mean lacking health care—is an odd contradiction at best, and an unethical, exploitative practice at worst” (105). So uh, be nice to us because we’re canaries in a very concerning coal mine.

A couple of miscellaneous considerations as I wrap this up:

  • Whoever wrote the book you’re reviewing might, gasp, read the review! This point hit home for me recently since my own books are now being reviewed, and I have been abjectly grateful at every kind word tossed my way, whereas critiques have hit me pretty hard…I guess I’ll develop a thicker skin regarding this kind of thing with more experience! Just something to keep in mind as you pen your own reviews.
  • We book review editors… hm, how do I say this… don’t have any real power. Or influence. Or anything beyond the ability to write some emails and get presses to send out free books. We don’t have any sway with our own press, like the ability to tell when exactly an issue is coming out, or to get deadlines moved. So you can ask us when your stuff will appear in print, but we legit don’t know, and we can’t do much about how slowly academic publishing moves.
  • Academic publishing is exploitative and relies on free labor and I seriously don’t know why I keep doing it so, like, while I give good research/writing/editing advice because I’ve been at it for 20 years, maaaaybe take some of this with a grain of salt and try to make better life choices while you still can, kids!

I hope this was useful! I really do think book reviews are a great way to get more involved with your field or one you’re getting better acquainted with, as a scholar or aspiring scholar or other category of (hopefully healthier) human entirely. And if you’ve never published anything before and want to give it a shot, despite how broken academic publishing is (did I mention the whole “expected to work for free” thing?!), book reviews are a pretty chill way to do so.

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