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shanny1366's review against another edition
1.0
I saw some of the negative reviews before I started this book, and through the first three sections I didn’t get why people were so against it. The author had interesting points and challenged some of my beliefs in a really interesting ways. And then I got to the the last section about female vulnerability. And now I am filled with rage. The author tries to retain the style of academic curiosity; I can almost hear her saying something like “just hear me out, I’m just playing devil’s advocate.” However, this does nothing to excuse the rampant victim blaming, disbelief of women’s lived experiences, and almost complete dismissal of the power dynamics involved in sexual assault. The women she used as examples were either, in her estimation, delusional, allowing things these things to take place, or voluntarily releasing their own power by daring to admit that these events affected them in any negative way. This treatment of women who were brave enough to speak out about their experiences is disgusting, and this author should be ashamed of herself.
avoryfaucette's review against another edition
3.0
Generally speaking, I thought this was a better book than Against Love, which I found quite mediocre and unmemorable. There were some contradictions and things I disagreed with (well, a lot I disagreed with), but it was more of an *interesting* book. Another short diatribe related to sexuality and gender, this one covers four themes: Envy, Sex, Dirt, Vulnerability. Envy was the blandest chapter, followed by Sex, which is mostly about female orgasm. I found myself disagreeing with a lot, but it was an interesting chapter with some good sources (I really would have liked endnotes). Dirt is about some innate desire women have for things to be clean, which I definitely think is not true. Possibly for a majority of women, yes, but not as large a majority as Kipnis would have you think. The last section is the one that I most want to comment on, though. I thought I'd like it the most, because the Vulnerability chapter is about rape and sexual violence, and this is a topic I'm interested in as a feminist. Unfortunately, I went from disagreement to rage as I read through Kipnis's thoughts on the subject. In the rest of the book, she seems to identify somewhat with feminism, though she has her issues. Here, she calls feminists ridiculous, and doesn't really seem to agree with anything feminist, though it's a little more complicated since she's dealing with an area where feminists split widely (think the pro-porn/anti-porn and pro-sex work/anti-prostitution camps).
The most infuriating part is the finale, where Kipnis builds up to two personal stories, one told by Naomi Wolf and the other by Andrea Dworkin. She says some mildly annoying things before that point, downplaying the significance of rape, implying that feminists overemphasize it and that we don't concern ourselves enough with male prison rape, even subtly seeming to imply that rape should not be a big deal, even if it happens. She mentions that some feminists consider rape worse than death in a way that seems to refute the point, which triggered my anger. But then we get to the two stories. First is Wolf's memory of a situation in which Harold Bloom touched her thigh after drinking together at a dinner party and made her uncomfortable. Now I'm not saying that the facts are necessarily true, but Kipnis doesn't dispute them. Her issue is that she thinks Wolf has far overblown the incident, which she calls "hand-on-knee" (I think most women would agree that there is a big difference between knee and thigh). I'm very bothered with anyone refusing to let a victim of any sort of sexual harrassment tell her own story and experience the incident in her own way. Who is Kipnis to tell Wolf that a hand on her thigh was insignificant? In certain contexts, such a touch can be highly disturbing and unwanted. There's also a touch of victim blaming, when Kipnis focuses on Wolf's own desire to meet with the professor (though it is entirely possible that this was purely intellectual). Even if a woman does have a crush on a man, it is completely acceptable for her to decide that she does not want this touch, at this time. Kipnis should really consider reading the anthology Yes Means Yes, to understand that *all* touch should be a matter of mutual choice and understanding. Then it goes on to Dworkin's story. I may not like Dworkin generally, and I may disagree with her all-sex-is-rape line, but when Kipnis described Dworkin's experience of what she believes was rape and then more or less discounts it, I felt physically ill. Whether or not the rape occurred, any woman who wakes up, feeling a pain deep in her vagina, and gushing blood after having had a couple of cocktails and feeling woozy, has every right to be terrified. Kipnis suggests that because of Dworkin's experiences with rape, because of her writings that suggest, in Kipnis's view, a desire for rape at some level, she must have made it up or at least have wanted it to be true. I may not agree with the way Dworkin thinks about sex and violence, but I would never suggest that an experience she describes didn't happen, just because she's been raped before, just because she seems obsessed with the subject. Using this claim to finish up a book on the "female psyche" is appalling and deplorable.
The most infuriating part is the finale, where Kipnis builds up to two personal stories, one told by Naomi Wolf and the other by Andrea Dworkin. She says some mildly annoying things before that point, downplaying the significance of rape, implying that feminists overemphasize it and that we don't concern ourselves enough with male prison rape, even subtly seeming to imply that rape should not be a big deal, even if it happens. She mentions that some feminists consider rape worse than death in a way that seems to refute the point, which triggered my anger. But then we get to the two stories. First is Wolf's memory of a situation in which Harold Bloom touched her thigh after drinking together at a dinner party and made her uncomfortable. Now I'm not saying that the facts are necessarily true, but Kipnis doesn't dispute them. Her issue is that she thinks Wolf has far overblown the incident, which she calls "hand-on-knee" (I think most women would agree that there is a big difference between knee and thigh). I'm very bothered with anyone refusing to let a victim of any sort of sexual harrassment tell her own story and experience the incident in her own way. Who is Kipnis to tell Wolf that a hand on her thigh was insignificant? In certain contexts, such a touch can be highly disturbing and unwanted. There's also a touch of victim blaming, when Kipnis focuses on Wolf's own desire to meet with the professor (though it is entirely possible that this was purely intellectual). Even if a woman does have a crush on a man, it is completely acceptable for her to decide that she does not want this touch, at this time. Kipnis should really consider reading the anthology Yes Means Yes, to understand that *all* touch should be a matter of mutual choice and understanding. Then it goes on to Dworkin's story. I may not like Dworkin generally, and I may disagree with her all-sex-is-rape line, but when Kipnis described Dworkin's experience of what she believes was rape and then more or less discounts it, I felt physically ill. Whether or not the rape occurred, any woman who wakes up, feeling a pain deep in her vagina, and gushing blood after having had a couple of cocktails and feeling woozy, has every right to be terrified. Kipnis suggests that because of Dworkin's experiences with rape, because of her writings that suggest, in Kipnis's view, a desire for rape at some level, she must have made it up or at least have wanted it to be true. I may not agree with the way Dworkin thinks about sex and violence, but I would never suggest that an experience she describes didn't happen, just because she's been raped before, just because she seems obsessed with the subject. Using this claim to finish up a book on the "female psyche" is appalling and deplorable.
wealhtheow's review
2.0
Kipnis examines women and modern American society's relationships with dirt, sex, envy and vulnerability. It's a huge subject, and she does not do it justice. Kipnis focuses all too often on pithy cheap-shots and sarcastic responses to other feminist thinkers. I liked some of her analysis, but she overstated her case and made terrible comparisons (women shouldn't worry so much about rape because "violent things happen to men too: they're maimed or die in pointless wars, for instance." What? The link between the two is nonexistent.) Kipnis does have a good point that the people who are the least statistically likely to be raped are the most worried about it. Unfortunately, her insights are overshadowed (in my mind) by her pettiness and "loledgy" writing.
le13anna's review
5.0
if i could memorize everything Laura Kipnis has ever written I would die a happy woman.
rosalind's review
4.0
Really interesting food for thought, though can't help feeling a little let down that there was no conclusion to bookend the treatise. The introduction was so bold and striking, so a similarly forceful statement at the end of the work makes its absence keenly felt.
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