A couple of weeks ago I was looking through a new book at my local County Facility, a history/memoir of the Vietnam War. One photo drew me: black and white, the author in uniform, standing next to his wife, with his baby daughter in his arms. They were in 3/4 view, a nice column of light falling down the figures, profiles, baby blanket, uniform jacket, beret, knife-edged trouser-crease - It was a semi-relaxed, semi-formal portrait of a soldier about to leave for war.
And it struck me then, that this is the story. Not the war and what happens there, the battles, wounds, deaths, wreckage, survival. That is the aftermath. The story is this: a man leaves the company of women and children to enter the company of men. Only then is he able to be a man. Only then is he able to find or create or be part of a story. Only men have stories. Women and children don't have stories.
(And that's why The God of Small Things was such a massively popular book. It resonated particularly with women and children. They loved it. Among other things, for me, it reminded me of the hard work of being a child; how hard it was to learn buttons and buttonholes, work cardigan sleeves over the long sleeves of a blouse, not lose the bus-fare in my pocket while I was running around at lunchtime, playing chasey.)
By chance the Faithful Dinner Companion and I were catching up with Season 1 of True Detective (DVDs from our local County Facility) a few weeks ago. And there was the same story: 2 detectives, reluctant partners, over many years & through many vicissitudes, solve the case and come to accept each other's fundamental humanity. Both get divorced during the course of events.
We are inveterate watchers of bonus material, the Faithful and I, and so we heard the writer describe the detectives as heroes, flawed human beings, certainly, but heroes.
It seems I keep having to be reminded of the tenets of patriarchy. It's like trying to see the air itself, they so surround us. The hero narrative depends on taking men out of the company of the women and children, separating them from themselves and each other and then, in the current orthodoxy, having them overcome vicissitudes to re-recognize brotherhood, if not wider community.
Considering the way increasing numbers of the poor and dispossessed have battle to survive, we should completely rejig the notion of heroism.
In fact, we should junk the current hero-narrative. It is a form of self-aggrandizement; it enables the self-deception which allows those in power - who have power or who take it - to act as they please in relation to everything outside themselves.
And it struck me then, that this is the story. Not the war and what happens there, the battles, wounds, deaths, wreckage, survival. That is the aftermath. The story is this: a man leaves the company of women and children to enter the company of men. Only then is he able to be a man. Only then is he able to find or create or be part of a story. Only men have stories. Women and children don't have stories.
(And that's why The God of Small Things was such a massively popular book. It resonated particularly with women and children. They loved it. Among other things, for me, it reminded me of the hard work of being a child; how hard it was to learn buttons and buttonholes, work cardigan sleeves over the long sleeves of a blouse, not lose the bus-fare in my pocket while I was running around at lunchtime, playing chasey.)
By chance the Faithful Dinner Companion and I were catching up with Season 1 of True Detective (DVDs from our local County Facility) a few weeks ago. And there was the same story: 2 detectives, reluctant partners, over many years & through many vicissitudes, solve the case and come to accept each other's fundamental humanity. Both get divorced during the course of events.
We are inveterate watchers of bonus material, the Faithful and I, and so we heard the writer describe the detectives as heroes, flawed human beings, certainly, but heroes.
It seems I keep having to be reminded of the tenets of patriarchy. It's like trying to see the air itself, they so surround us. The hero narrative depends on taking men out of the company of the women and children, separating them from themselves and each other and then, in the current orthodoxy, having them overcome vicissitudes to re-recognize brotherhood, if not wider community.
Considering the way increasing numbers of the poor and dispossessed have battle to survive, we should completely rejig the notion of heroism.
In fact, we should junk the current hero-narrative. It is a form of self-aggrandizement; it enables the self-deception which allows those in power - who have power or who take it - to act as they please in relation to everything outside themselves.
