Showing posts with label what to read for book club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what to read for book club. Show all posts

Monday, July 1, 2013

Sheryl Sandberg - Lean In



It might seem odd that I would choose to read this whilst at home, on maternity leave, spending most of each day nursing a tiny baby. In fact, it was yet another bookclub pick - thanks Bibliofillies! - but it is also a book I've been curious about since it came out, even though I am rarely drawn to non-fiction. And actually, I think now is the perfect time to read it. Maternity leave is a wonderful time for reflection and soul searching. The experience of bringing new life into the world, of taking a break from your career and spending time at home, focusing energy on the physical task of nurturing young children rather than the intellectual tasks of a workplace, puts everything else in your life into perspective and allows you to observe it more objectively.

I will come right out and say it: I am a feminist. I make no apologies for my use of a word that has garnered all kinds of (largely undeserved) negative connotations. I believe in women making it in this world - however they choose to define 'making it'. This is even more true, and more poignant, now that I have a daughter. I loved Sheryl Sandberg's infamous TED talk (find it here), but a friend of mine, one of the Bibliofillies, was not impressed. "Nothing I haven't heard before," she commented. Nothing new. And fair enough - Sandberg draws heavily on statistics and case studies, so yes, most of the facts she presents in her talk, and in more detail in Lean In, are not new. But somehow the way she puts it all together, her collation of information, the simplicity of her message when she boils the facts right down - to me, it sounds fresh. It has made me re-think a few things. In fact, I have found it the most inspirational book on women in the workplace that I have ever read.

After several very bad experiences in law firms, and after watching Australia's first ever female prime minister get hammered by the press, I had decided I never wanted to make partner in a law firm, I never wanted to be general counsel of a corporation, and in fact I never wanted to make it to any public leadership position. It's not worth it, I thought. Success of that nature would require me to fight every day of my life against particularly nasty individuals who believed I had no right to be doing what I was doing, because I am a woman.

But Sheryl Sandberg has made me sit back and rethink this. That was the wrong message to take away from those experiences, I now realise. I am a woman with a certain degree of intelligence and privilege, who has obtained a number of undergraduate and postgraduate degrees. For any woman, but especially for women like me, who have had opportunities thrust at them, shying away from leadership positions just because the road might sometimes prove hard is not the right thing to do. With opportunity comes responsibility. And to turn down opportunity because of a perceived systemic bias against women gives the wrong voices too much power. It ensures that the culture created by those voices will continue to dominate. It does other women no favours at all.

The first chapter of Lean In is subtitled What Would You Do If You Weren't Afraid? This hit me, hard, because of course, without realising it, I was charting a course steered by fear. Sandberg points out that:

"Fear is at the root of so many of the barriers that women face. Fear of not being liked. Fear of making the wrong choice. Fear of drawing negative attention. Fear of overreaching. Fear of being judged. Fear of failure. And the holy trinity of fear: the fear of being a bad mother/wife/daughter."

She recounts a speech to female University graduates in which her advice was that as they started their adult lives they should "Start out by aiming high." And of course we should - all of us should, male and female.

In the following chapters, Sandberg parcels out succinct pieces of advice, often using her personal experiences to illustrate the authenticity of that advice. She recounts a story of women attending a meeting who chose to sit on the chairs lining the side of the room when there were insufficient places at the conference table for all attendees, rather than confidently grabbing one of those spots for themselves. Sandberg points out that this behaviour did not help those women with how they were regarded in the workplace, it did not create an impression of competence or equality. She says that we should always feel confident enough to sit at the table - both literally and figuratively - rather than take a back seat out of misguided notions of diplomacy or benevolence.

She talks about using our natural qualities so that they work for us rather than against us in the workplace - we don't have to be liked by everyone, but also we don't have to behave like men to get ahead (she even says it's ok to cry at the office). And one of my favourite pieces of advice in Lean In is to think of your career as a jungle gym rather than a ladder. It's rare for people to start down one career path and follow it linearly, through promotion after promotion, until they ultimately reach the pinnacle of their profession. It's more likely, Sandberg says, that success will come from looking more flexibly at one's career, from being open to opportunities even when at the time they may seem like sideways moves. A jungle gym, not a ladder. And isn't this realistic, these days? It is no longer the case that people who start out at one company then stay with that same company until retirement. Things have changed, opportunities might come from the most unlikely places. Sandberg also suggests that the right career choices inevitably move with the market: pick the company with the highest growth. Follow market growth, Sandberg says, even if the role seems less significant, and your career will grow too.

More practical advice from Sandbrg is to be honest in the workplace, to speak up truthfully even if it is easier or seems more diplomatic to remain silent or to sugar-coat something, and to seek the same honesty from your co-workers, even if it's hard to hear some of the truths you thus invite.

And the key career advice from Sandberg, the heart of the book: don't start leaning back from the workplace in preparation for a life you may one day lead, before you are actually leading that life. Don't make career decisions that take into account the baby you have yet to fall pregnant with, the husband you have yet to meet. I feel ashamed to admit that I am guilty of this. When I was seriously considering making a significant change in my career, had indeed taken several steps down that path - several successful, exciting steps - I let some advice I received influence me and I decided not to follow that path after all because doing so might interfere with my ability to meet someone and start a family during my thirties. Now that I have my family I don't regret the decision I made, because had I behaved differently back then my life now would surely be different too. But certainly I regret having made a decision to lean back from my career before I really needed to. I don't think that was the right basis for my decision. I'm sure that, had I followed that career path, I still would have eventually found a way to create a fulfilling family life.

The advice in Lean In is compelling because Sandberg herself is a woman who has clearly succeeded at the highest level. In the latter chapters of the book she talks about how it was possible for her to achieve this professional success while raising children, and the answer lies in her domestic set-up. It is most important, says Sandberg, to ensure your spouse is a true partner - someone who contributes equally to your family. When looking for a life partner, she says, her advice to women is "to date all of them: the bad boys, the cool boys, the commitment-phobic boys, the crazy boys. But do not marry them. The things that make the bad boys sexy do not make them good husbands. When it comes time to settle down, find someone who wants an equal partner." She cites statistics that I found most interesting, indicating high levels of happiness for women who juggle multiple roles, as long as they have support at home, and which also show that children benefit enormously - thrive, in fact - from having fathers who are genuinely involved in domestic duties. Of course, finding a partner like this might be easier said than done, but Sandberg's point is that women should insist upon it. Only by doing so is it likely to become the norm. Men, she says, must learn to 'lean in' to their domestic lives, just as women must lean in to their professional lives, accepting opportunities and achieving leadership positions. Only then will it gradually become as acceptable for women to hold the top jobs - in politics, corporations, and so on - as it is for men.

For Sandberg the concept of 'having it all' is "the greatest trap ever set for women." It is intended to be aspirational, says Sandberg, but in fact it makes us all feel bad. She says that the very concept "flies in the face of the basic laws of economics and common sense... it is best regarded as a myth." She says that the more pertinent goal is doing it all, and even that is an impossibility. Women with both careers and families worry continuously about measuring up (no one needed to tell me that!), but Sandberg says that we measure ourselves against the wrong yardsticks: "we compare our efforts at work to those of our colleagues, usually men, who typically have far fewer responsibilities at home. Then we compare our efforts at home to those of mothers who dedicate themselves solely to their families." And on and on - we compare our bodies to those who are paid to dedicate themselves solely to looking a particular way (models, or athletes). She quotes Gloria Steinem, who famously said: "You can't do it all. No one can have two full-time jobs, have perfect children and cook three meals and be multi-orgasmic 'til dawn... Superwoman is the adversary of the woman's movement." I know all of this, I have heard it before, but isn't it something we should hear again and again?  As I sit here writing, I am also jiggling with one foot the baby rocker in which my seven week old daughter lies. I have gotten up intermittently during the writing of this post to tidy a room, start preparing dinner, and put away the laundry my husband has folded, all the while calculating the hours left until I need to pick up my 20 month old from daycare, where he spends two days a week. I have kept the computer on in front of me whilst trying simultaneously to get some reading done of our new bookclub book, and checking Facebook and my email each several times, when I am actually trying (in and around the writing of this blog) to finish writing cover letters and a synopsis of my book so that I can submit it to publishers. I managed to get a run in this morning, but am still unsatisfied by my post-pregnancy weight (although at seven weeks postpartum I don't know why I am putting this pressure on myself). I want the house to be perfect before our landlady inspects tomorrow, I want to give my daughter a bath, I want to have dinner sorted for my son before he gets home this evening (and I want him to eat it!) and I want dinner to be prepared for myself and my husband by the time I put my son to sleep later tonight. Mainly, I want to post this before today is over. And all the while, I am fitting in the regular feeds Lulu requires, which become ever more frequent as evening approaches. Of course I am falling short on all counts. At night, when I get up to breastfeed Lulu, I will also be trying to get some reading in on my Kindle, but my brain won't be up to processing much; and when I get back into bed, my brain will be just active enough to keep me awake worrying about everything: how much more there is to do for our move overseas later this year, my lack of progress on the next book, whether the kids are each getting enough attention, whether my son is eating a balanced enough diet and getting enough stimulation, about my parents, about our finances... the list is endless. All this and I'm not even working at the moment (though this, of course, is yet another cause of stress). All this and I am one of the lucky ones - I have help, and I have a true partner in Bibliohubby.

We cannot have it all, or do it all, at the same time. It should be a mantra women repeat over and over to themselves. Sandberg cites Nora Ephron (RIP, smart, funny woman), who, in a 1996 commencement address, said: "It will be a little bit messy, but embrace the mess. It will be complicated, but rejoice in the complications. It will not be anything like what you think it will be like, but surprises are good for you. And don't be frightened: you can always change your mind. I know: I've had four careers and three husbands." Sandberg says that at Facebook one of the posters up on the walls says "Done is better than perfect." And she stresses that what we need to lose, all of us women, is GUILT. That tricky, pervasive mother guilt that afflicts us all. Sandberg says that "guilt management can be just as important as time management for mothers." She says that while she looks at the number of nights spent away from her children and berates herself for this failure, her husband celebrates the fact that they eat dinner together as a family as often as they do, and that these conflicting viewpoints are indicative of our problematic and counter-productive female guilt. But she also says that it can be fun when our various roles collide - when we bring our children to the office and they get to see where we work, for example. She says Facebook is family-friendly and it was a positive thing for both her work and her family life that her kids got to know her colleagues. I agree - I remember as a child visiting my mum at the clinic where she worked as a doctor, and I remember how normal it seemed that she was on call several nights a week, and might disappear at midnight without notice. My mother says that when she stopped working, I said to her (in all my youthful wisdom): "But you've been a doctor as long as I've known you!". I grew up proud of my mother, not at all concerned by the number of hours she was away from the house. Of course, I was lucky to have a father who stayed at home longer in the mornings to prepare our breakfast and pack us lunches for the day before going to work himself. This meant he got home later at night, but my mum got home earlier - that's how they balanced it. And that is Sandberg's point, too - we have to decide what's important to us and then find a way to make that happen, and be ok with letting the rest of it go. We need to find what works for us. She points to a Stanford professor's research which shows that setting obtainable goals is the key to happiness. Striving for perfection is not (again, I'm not sure why it require Stanford level research to prove this!).

Sandberg says that many women shy away from talking about all of this, especially the bits about the difficulties of being a woman in the workplace and being a feminist, because they perceive that it will do them a disservice to raise it and to be seen as 'one of those'. But the point she makes, with which I wholeheartedly agree, is that the reverse is true: the only way to effect change, and to work with other people (not just women) to create that change or even just to get through it all in good company, is to talk about it. It's been said before, but feminism is not a dirty word.

Everyone will take different things from this motivational read, but these are my take-home points: I should not be afraid, any longer, to succeed at work, I should grab opportunities even if they come out of left field, I should rely on my husband to be a true partner, I should be ok with achieving some goals, the ones I set for myself, and not others, and, above all, I should embrace the mess. 'Cuz that's life.

Overall assessment: 4 out of 5

Pros: This is without question the best book I have read about working mothers. Note, however, that this is not necessarily saying a lot - I don't read a lot of non-fiction and I hardly ever read self-help, though I'm not sure this book fits into that category. I do read feminist writing, though, and I think we can safely categorise this as a feminist text for our generation's working woman. Aside from the fabulous Caitlin Moran's How to be a Woman, and my idol Tina Fey's Bossypants, this is the most influential feminist read I have picked up in a long time.

Cons: This is a book for working women. Parts of it - particularly the partnership chapter, and the chapter on the myth of doing it all - will also speak to women who are stay-at-home mums, and Sandberg is sympathetic to any choice a woman makes for her life. But really, the readers who will get the most out of this are working mothers. Also, even though I am (most of the time) a working mother, my choices are different to those that Sandberg has made. When I read about her decision to willingly sacrifice being present at all of her children's dance recitals and parent-teacher conferences and so on, it initially made me uncomfortable. But when I kept reading I recognised that she is not calling on everyone to make those same decisions - they are simply the ones she has made for herself and her family. And all of us have that choice to make.

Monday, April 29, 2013

The Great Gatsby read-along - with Stephen Colbert!!! (and me)

Bibliohubby and I adore Stephen Colbert. We tape the Colbert Report every night and watch it religiously after Iggy has gone to bed. We complain loudly when he takes a break and the show is put on brief hiatus (we don't begrudge him his holidays, of course not, we just miss him terribly while he's away).  When we planned our last trip to New York, Bibliohubby spent months in advance of our touch-down hunting tickets to the show, and was ultimately - yay! - successful. So along we went, and came away even more impressed by his near-faultless live performance. The man is a genius.

(Also, we are convinced that if he could only meet us and get to know us a little, he would feel as strongly about us as we do about him and we would all become the best of friends and regularly invite each other over for dinner.)

We seriously considered asking him to become Iggy's godfather. Because, you know, he would definitely go for that, even though he's never met us personally and we live on the other side of the world. He just seems like such an all-round good guy, as well as sharing our political persuasions and being crack-up hilarious. Our favourite ever Colbert moment is what we like to call the Munchma Quchi moment. YouTube it, now. You'll see.

Anyway, my fandom only increased when he announced a reading challenge the other night (ostensibly as part of the inauguration of the O Colbert Book Club - a spoof on Oprah's book club). Viewers are encouraged to read The Great Gatsby before his show on 9 May, when he will be hosting Jennifer Egan (!!) and Baz Luhrmann to discuss the text, in anticipation of the launch of the movie.

Huzzah!

Anyone who started reading this blog at the beginning of the year, when it first started, and has stuck with it since (I'm not sure anyone exists who fits this description; if there is - Hello, you fool, I love you!) may remember that re-reading The Great Gatsby was one of my early goals for 2013. And now here we are; yet another reason to get to it. Also, since writing the first draft of this post I have discovered that The Great Gatsby is also The Guardian's May book club pick.

So I'm inviting all of you to join me. Or join Colbert. Or The Guardian. Whatever. Just read the book, watch the show, and then come back here* and tell me what you think / thought of Egan and Luhrmann and Colbert, and what you thought of the book. Fun!

* It occurs to me that there is a high likelihood that no one will take me up on this challenge. Unlike Colbert, I do not have an established fan base. But I will be discussing the book and the show anyway, so you may as well drop by to read that, in early May-ish. Assuming the birth of Baby hasn't thrown everything dramatically off-course by then, which it may well do seeing as today is the due date.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Ian McEwan - Sweet Tooth

I have read nine of his 12 novels and several of his short stories, so it is fair to say that I am a McEwan fan. One of the things I love about his writing is the fact that, like my favourite writer Paul Auster, he is concerned in his novels both with telling a compelling story and with the intellectual exploration of ideas. Certainly Sweet Tooth delivers on both fronts, although for me this is not his best book.

Kurt Anderson of the NY Times Sunday Book Review writes that McEwan's work falls into two distinct periods: "His early stories and novels were all cool post-1960s perversity, a high-end parade of deadpan macabre and kink and sideshow eccentricity: ghastly death, corpses and butchery, bestiality, incest and pedophilia, insanity, dwarves. But since he turned 50, around the turn of the century, he’s published lovely historical fiction about the disastrous sexual misunderstandings of youth (“Atonement,” “On Chesil Beach”), and contemporary fiction about an ­alternative-energy researcher (“Solar”) and a deeply sane, happily married surgeon (“Saturday”). It’s as if Johnny Rotten had changed into Bono." (emphasis mine, I love that last line)

I agree with Anderson and must say that from a personal perspective, I have tended to enjoy his earlier novels better - save for Atonement, which is one of his masterpieces.

One of the things that usually characterises a McEwan novel is the major event or disturbance which upsets or ends each book. This is so much a part of what I have come to expect from him that I was surprised, when I got more than halfway through Sweet Tooth, to find that nothing alarming had yet happened. When I read Atonement I had to put the book down at one stage in order to process the disturbing series of events he had outlined. When I finished The Comfort of Strangers I had to physically put the book out of sight so that I could turn my mind to something else instead of allowing it to come back, again and again, to the horrific scenes McEwan is so very good at describing. As my mother says, one generally needs to bolster oneself before picking up one of his novels.

Sweet Tooth is different. Anderson calls it McEwan's "most cheerful book by far", which says something about the rest of his work given that this is a book about espionage during the Cold War.

Selena Frome is a voracious reader and lover of books. Because she is also, by fluke, rather good at mathematics, her mother encourages her to read maths at Cambridge rather than English at a lesser university. Surprisingly, after earning a rather poor degree, Serena is then recruited by MI5, where she is soon assigned a case. Operation Sweet Tooth involves the confidential funding by MI5 of writers who, the Government hopes, will one day become known for works that espouse anti-communist values, and Tom Haley is the writer assigned to Selena. They fall in love and have an affair that destroys any hope she has of career success - not that this was a real possibility anyway in the intensely chauvinistic environment of MI5 during the 1970s. The love affair is central to the book and we are kept wondering until the very end whether it is a relationship with any hope of survival.

Like many of McEwan's novels, it is difficult to review Sweet Tooth properly without giving too much away. Only at the end is one rewarded with the signature McEwan playfulness, and the twist in this novel changes the reader's outlook on the whole book. It is a testament to his skill as a writer that the giveaway in the first paragraph does not in fact tell us much about the ending:

"My name is Serena Frome (rhymes with plume) and almost 40 years ago I was sent on a secret mission for the British security service. I didn't return safely. Within eighteen months of joining I was sacked, having disgraced myself and ruined my lover, though he certainly had a hand in his own undoing."

In some ways this is actually a very quiet book. Nothing much happens, except that Selena drifts, with an unsatisfying lack of agency, in and out of a number of flawed and sexually questionable relationships, including the one at the start of the book which gives her the entry intro MI5. A few times I thought we were being set up for a twist that would take us in the direction of a more traditional spy novel - for example when Serena, on a 'mission' involving the thorough cleaning of a safe house, finds a small piece of paper upon which are written the initials of her ex-lover (now dead) and the obscure island where he died. But none of this leads to any excitement or intrigue; in fact, the opposite is true. The explanation ends up being so banal that I suspect McEwan was setting us up deliberately in order to thwart our expectations. Indeed, espionage in the '70s is portrayed overall as a rather dull endeavour. I think providing a realistic description of what is essentially a bureaucratic department might have been one of McEwan's objectives in writing the book. He has previously written another spy novel, The Innocent, and whilst that also does not unfold as one would expect - it's McEwan, of course it doesn't - it does contain the anticipated hit of violence. Whereas this book, really, is not a spy novel at all; it is a novel about the power of writing and the motivations for reading, and the intersections between truth and fiction. For example, Tom Haley's short stories are summarised in some detail throughout the book and both we and Serena get to know Tom largely through his fiction. This idea of a writer whose life and character are inextricably intertwined with his writing in a way that makes it impossible to distinguish between the writing and the writer, is central to the novel.

Of course, the interest of any voracious reader will be immediately piqued by a protagonist whose love of books defines her, and a plot in which one of the consistent ideas explored is that of an ideological war fought on the cultural front. I was fascinated by the descriptions of cultural warfare, as well as by the many passages on reading and writing, and what it means to be a writer. My interest in these subjects is what kept me reading.

However, without wanting to reveal the ending, I was left with mixed feelings after finishing the book. I felt that McEwan had been playing with us all along, and moreover, that he had been playing with us in a way that he had explicitly promised not to. I think he had a lot of fun with this one, which is perhaps why Anderson can accurately describe it as 'cheerful'. But I don't know whether to feel betrayed or inspired by his cleverness at the expense of us, his dear readers.

Overall assessment: 3.5 out of 5. He is a brilliant writer, but this didn't quite achieve the heights of earlier books such as Atonement or Enduring Love.

Pros / Favourite passages: There are so many noteworthy passages here, about reading and writing. A few for your enjoyment:

Serena describing herself as a reader: "My needs were simple. I didn't bother much with themes or felicitous phrases and skipped fine descriptions of weather, landscapes and interiors. I wanted characters I could believe in, and I wanted to be made curious about what was to happen to them. Generally, I preferred people to be falling in and out of love, but I didn't mind so much if they tried their hand at something else. It was vulgar to want it, but I liked someone to say 'Marry me' by the end. Novels without female characters were a lifeless desert. Conrad was beyond my consideration, as were most stories by Kipling and Hemingway. Nor was I impressed by reputations. I read anytihng I saw lying around. Pulp fiction, great literature and everything in between - I gave them all the same rough treatment." And then later: "I caused amusement among my Newnham friends studying English when I told them that Valley of the Dolls was as good as anything Jane Austen ever wrote."

Serena on what it is to be a writer: "As I lay in the dak, waiting for sleep, I thought I was beginning to grasp something about invention. As a reader, a speed-reader, I took it for granted, it was a process I never troubled myself with. You pulled a book from the shelf and there was an invented, peopled world, as obvious as the one you lived in. But now... I thought I had the measure of the artifice, or I almost had it. Almost like cooking, I thought sleepily. Instead of heat trasforming the ingredients, there's pure invention, the spark, the hidden element. What resulted was more than the sum of the parts." She then goes through the various elements of Tom's real life that make their way into his writing, followed by: "At one level it was obvious enough how these separate parts were tipped in and deployed. The mystery was in how they were blended into something cohesive and plausible, how the ingredients were cooked into something so delicious."

An excerpt from one of Tom's stories: "There was, in my view, an unwritten contract with the reader that the writer must honour. No single element of an imagined world or any of its characters should be allowed to dissolve on authorial whim. The invented had to be as solid and as self-consistent as the actual. This was a contract founded on mutual trust."

Cons: I have read some reviews of this book in which McEwan is praised for writing so effectively from the perspective of a female protagonist. I was surprised to read these reviews because there are places in this book where the female voice really failed. For example, early on, when Serena is wondering whether a man in whom she has a romantic interest might be gay, as one of her ex-boyfriends turned out to be, she is described as being so interested in nevertheless pursuing a physical relationship with him that she believes she could be happy if he simply took care of her needs, even if it was impossible for her to do the same for him. I believe this is a very masculine point of view. I don't know of many women who seek out their own pleasure so selfishly that it would not trouble them if they were unable to satisfy the man they loved. Surely her pride would be hurt! More than that, surely her self-esteem would be severely shaken by the knowledge that the man she loved could not love her back in the same way. McEwan's very straight, rational writing does not consistently or adequately convey the emotional inner-world of a woman who engages in several romantic relationships throughout the course of the book, and yet these romances are central to the plot. However, without giving too much away, I can say that these criticisms are essentially met and answered in the last chapter of the novel. I'm not sure whether this excuses him entirely, but it does give McEwan a way out of having to worry too profoundly about his weaknesses in characterising a complex woman.

Book club pick: This was the first book picked for my new book club. It was a fun way to start my literary relationship with these woman. I was the most positive of all of us about the book - possibly because I write as well as read, which means that McEwan's musings on the subject probably interested me on a deeper level. The others did not like it, but it provoked much interesting conversation, and for that reason I would recommend it as a book club read.