“Feminists Don’t Wear Pink (And Other Lies)” curated by Scarlett Curtis (2018)

“I didn’t know I was a feminist until I was fifteen.”

A few years ago, I found myself at a picnic for people interested in the newly formed Women’s Equality Party. A woman was going around with recording equipment, asking those present – mostly women, but more than a few men, too – about their views on feminism. After my female friends and girlfriend at the time had given their answers, I was asked, “Do you consider yourself a feminist?” My response was quite a simple, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” She noted that a lot of people still weren’t, and I guess for the first time it struck me that I really couldn’t understand why people didn’t believe in sexual equality.

I come from a matriarchal family, for one. The vast majority of my friends are, and always have been, women. I’ve worked for twelve years, but until this year, I’d never had a male boss. Most of my teachers (and certainly most of the better ones) were women. I was born in 1988, when there was a female Prime Minister, a queen on the throne, and Kylie Minogue was top of the charts. I’d never for a second doubted that women couldn’t do anything that men could. I never understood how people could say that women weren’t clever, when most of my friends graduated with better degrees than me. I was saddened when people said women weren’t funny, as it meant – in my eyes anyway – that they’d never seen any of Victoria Wood’s work. Or probably actually met any women at all. But we’re still fighting, and it’s insane.

It’s not as clear-cut as that, though. Sure, there might again be a woman in Downing Street, and the queen might still be on the throne, but are they actually doing anything for the betterment of women? You’d hope so, but it rarely seems to be the case. Oprah appears to be the most worshipped woman in America, yet why are her fellow women still treated less fairly? It’s baffling. But this is a book review blog. So on we go.

This book is a collection of short essays and poems from a wide swathe of the female population regarding their journeys through life as women and what feminism means to them. Contributors include Whitney Wolfe Herd, the founder of Bumble (the dating app where only women can instigate conversations), the newest Doctor, Jodie Whittaker, a very furious Keira Knightley, a hilarious Lolly Adefope, the inspiring Alaa Murabit and Youtube sensation Zoe Sugg, to name a few. Even Bridget Jones gets into the swing of things, as Helen Fielding gives us some new entries from the famous diaries as Bridget looks back at the nineties and wonders why she put up with everything she did from Daniel, Mark and many other men.

A powerful treatise that should immediately make its way into the hands of every woman and man on the planet, the book covers topics of women in the workplace, periods, the ever-present threat of attack, beauty standards, the tampon tax, female genital mutilation, parenthood and pregnancy. Evanna Lynch talks about worrying if she’s going to leave a bloodstain on the casting director’s couch when she stands up. Kat Dennings relays an alphabet of ways her mother thinks women can get kidnapped. Scarlett Curtis gives us the answers we need to the questions people ask when they don’t understand feminism. Jameela Jamil explains why men should be included in the battle, and how to get those who still don’t identify as a feminist to do so.

Curtis has done great work by gathering up these diverse voices, and it was a pleasure to read every single page, even if some are tougher to get through than others in their brutal honesty regarding what women have had to put up with for millennia. Let’s hope that feminism will soon be a thing of the past – by which I mean that we won’t need a word for it, because it’s just how things are. It’s vital reading because we can all be doing better. I know I’m not perfect by any means in this area, but I like to think that I treat people of all genders with the same respect, and I don’t judge on something that is, ultimately, pretty trivial. But I’m always learning and happy to be doing so. We need everyone on the same page, and I can’t think of a single reason why sexual equality shouldn’t be normality.

Do I consider myself a feminist? You bet I do.

“Ex Libris” by Anne Fadiman (1998)

“When the Irish novelist John McGahern was a child, his sisters unlaced and removed one of his shoes while he was reading. He did not stir.”

My obsession with books only grows stronger with each passing moment, so the idea of reading books about books is not new. It’s also not the first time I have done so. In 2011 I read Title Deeds by Gary Dexter, a book about how famous novels got their titles, to name one of many. I have neither the time nor inclination to list more in this category, the third in the Chaos Walking series is glaring at me.

So let’s cut to the chase: this is a book about books and it’s marvellous.

Anne Fadiman grew up with bibliophile parents – both writers – and can seemingly not imagine a life where books are not the most important thing going. In this collection of essays written in the nineties, she discusses various aspects of being a booklover, from plagiarism to poetry, in drily witty, charming and magical prose.

The essays focus on the following topics: meshing together libraries with your spouse, the joy of long words, the “odd shelf”, sonnets, marginalia, changing attitudes towards women, inscriptions, reading books in the places they’re set, why there is no gender neutral term for “his” and “her”, proofreading, pens, books about food, kleptomania in authors, catalogues, books as playthings, reading aloud, book organisation and secondhand books. If there’s nothing in there that grabs your attention, then I would seriously reconsider some things in your life.

Fadiman is unapologetic in her love of the printed word, and it is refreshing to see someone not feeling like their enthusiasm must be hidden. We live in a world now where it seems to be cool to hate things, but that’s a poor way to live as far as I’m concerned. We must be excited and unashamed to big up the things we love! Fadiman hits on some wonderful points about how single tomes can return us to the place and time where we first read them, how proofreading becomes a way of life (her father would correct menus and hand them to the maitre d’ upon leaving the restaurant), and how language changes so wildly that we lose the use of wonderful words like “grimoire”, “mephetic” and “opopanax” (respectively, “book of magic spells”, “foul-smelling” and “a fragrant plant”).

We don’t agree on all points, however. She is a big believer in writing in the margins and annotating texts, whereas I cringe at even the notion of seeing a broken spine. (If you ever find yourself in my house and observe my bookshelves closely, you will notice that they mostly appear unread, which is far from the truth.) But to each their own! I was particularly fond of the essay on the “odd shelf”. In this, Fadiman claims that every person’s library contains a shelf that houses a whole selection of books that are otherwise unrelated to everything else in said library. For her, it’s books on polar exploration. For me, it’s Greek mythology. What’s yours?

This is a delightful book for anyone having a love affair with literature. It’s fifteen years old, but the love of books is timeless. It’s obviously written prior to the rise of the e-book, and I wonder what Fadiman makes of them… It’s taken me long enough to come around to the idea, but I live happy in the knowledge that physical books aren’t going anywhere.