aeudaimonia's review against another edition
challenging
dark
informative
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
V. complicated feelings about this book. It's sometimes called "protofeminist," but because feminism has certain political dimensions, and because Pizan avoids political commentary at every opportunity, I think it's better described as broadly pro-woman. Any time she says something legitimately progressive, she walks it back like she's afraid of her own stakes. Elsewhere she touches on what today we'd call the systemic oppression medieval women faced but she's always reluctant to address it openly, or engage with the implications of her staunch essentialist commitments. (However, I understand that life under divinely ordained monarchy leaves less room for political theory and dissent).
While her refusal to engage with her own stakes is frustrating, it makes the book a unique conveyor of the late medieval worldview: its values, its ideological intricacies and inconsistencies. Pizan argues with the misogynists of her day yet doesn't reject their framework and rigidly adheres to accepted conventions. Refusing to cross certain essentialist, patriarchal, and hierarchical boundaries, even in a polemic, she clarifies those boundaries better than another treatise might.
Unfortunately the book isn't just touted for its historical value, but its feminist one. As a woman with a strong historical and feminist bent, I think the protofeminist label set me up for disappointment. I knew, obviously, that Pizan's rhetoric wouldn't be progressive by today's standards. Throughout the book she asserts that a woman's greatest treasure is her virginity, that a woman who rebels against her womanly nature is somehow monstrous, at some points implying that basic safety is a right to be earned, morally, and that unchaste women deserve what's coming to them. All this is pretty par for the course for Christian literature. But whereas Part I focuses on warrior women, queens, and lawgivers, Parts II and III introduce the theme of female suffering (and equate it with female virtue). Pizan devotes Part III to the female saints and martyrs, frequently describing in graphic detail the tortures inflicted upon women and girls as young as 12. Obviously difficult to read. Part III is short but took longer than usual to finish because I became physically nauseous at several points. The anecdotes are designed to elicit some sense of catharsis. They're all formulaic: the misogynists say women are faithless, unchaste, and irrelevant to Christian history; they ignore all these young virgins - children - who endured unimaginable torture rather than sacrifice their virginity. What's more, they all received their heavenly crown. Etc, etc. Unfortunately it wasn't cathartic for me; it was just a bummer.
At the same time I feel very defensive about the book and about Pizan as a writer. Pizan's grief over the plight of woman is genuine and palpable; in that respect, she and I are the same. And in six hundred years the feminism of the 20th and 21st centuries in which I am so invested may well be just as outdated and harmful as Pizan's protofeminism of 1405. Critical as I am of the book (and still reeling from Part III) I actually enjoyed the majority of it. Rosalind Brown-Grant's translation is accessible and her introduction illuminating (pointing out, for example, Pizan's interesting use of pronouns in a way that anticipates modern concerns over gendered language). There's a lot to love and even more to dissect; it'd be a great addition to high school great books programs. It saddens me to see so many lukewarm or unfavorable reviews. I really think the book exists outside of a one-to-five-star scale and doesn't deserve to be penalized for failing modern expectations for narrative and character (or even basic veracity of the information presented). It was, significantly, well received within Pizan's own lifetime and that's an undeniable achievement for Pizan and the pro-woman or protofeminist cause.
While her refusal to engage with her own stakes is frustrating, it makes the book a unique conveyor of the late medieval worldview: its values, its ideological intricacies and inconsistencies. Pizan argues with the misogynists of her day yet doesn't reject their framework and rigidly adheres to accepted conventions. Refusing to cross certain essentialist, patriarchal, and hierarchical boundaries, even in a polemic, she clarifies those boundaries better than another treatise might.
Unfortunately the book isn't just touted for its historical value, but its feminist one. As a woman with a strong historical and feminist bent, I think the protofeminist label set me up for disappointment. I knew, obviously, that Pizan's rhetoric wouldn't be progressive by today's standards. Throughout the book she asserts that a woman's greatest treasure is her virginity, that a woman who rebels against her womanly nature is somehow monstrous, at some points implying that basic safety is a right to be earned, morally, and that unchaste women deserve what's coming to them. All this is pretty par for the course for Christian literature. But whereas Part I focuses on warrior women, queens, and lawgivers, Parts II and III introduce the theme of female suffering (and equate it with female virtue). Pizan devotes Part III to the female saints and martyrs, frequently describing in graphic detail the tortures inflicted upon women and girls as young as 12. Obviously difficult to read. Part III is short but took longer than usual to finish because I became physically nauseous at several points. The anecdotes are designed to elicit some sense of catharsis. They're all formulaic: the misogynists say women are faithless, unchaste, and irrelevant to Christian history; they ignore all these young virgins - children - who endured unimaginable torture rather than sacrifice their virginity. What's more, they all received their heavenly crown. Etc, etc. Unfortunately it wasn't cathartic for me; it was just a bummer.
At the same time I feel very defensive about the book and about Pizan as a writer. Pizan's grief over the plight of woman is genuine and palpable; in that respect, she and I are the same. And in six hundred years the feminism of the 20th and 21st centuries in which I am so invested may well be just as outdated and harmful as Pizan's protofeminism of 1405. Critical as I am of the book (and still reeling from Part III) I actually enjoyed the majority of it. Rosalind Brown-Grant's translation is accessible and her introduction illuminating (pointing out, for example, Pizan's interesting use of pronouns in a way that anticipates modern concerns over gendered language). There's a lot to love and even more to dissect; it'd be a great addition to high school great books programs. It saddens me to see so many lukewarm or unfavorable reviews. I really think the book exists outside of a one-to-five-star scale and doesn't deserve to be penalized for failing modern expectations for narrative and character (or even basic veracity of the information presented). It was, significantly, well received within Pizan's own lifetime and that's an undeniable achievement for Pizan and the pro-woman or protofeminist cause.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Torture, Death, Misogyny, and Suicide
mothie_girlie's review against another edition
hopeful
inspiring
medium-paced
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Torture, and Misogyny
Minor: Rape
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