The Secret History of Wonder Woman: The Invention of a Superhero in Historical Context

When I was a pre-teen I spent my allowance on comic books.  I mainly bought Superman, Batman and Legion of Superheroes.  I was interested in female superheroes, but Wonder Woman didn't have superpowers at that point.  I read Supergirl  until her story arc became centered on how aliens had victimized her at a beauty pageant.  I wanted to be inspired by a female superhero.  I felt betrayed.  So I threw up my hands and stopped reading about her.   It was Ms. Magazine that showed me what Wonder Woman had once been, and I loved the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman series.  By that time, however, I didn't read comic books.  It was the Witchblade TV series starring Yancy Butler that brought me back to comic books as an adult. I read and collected Witchblade in all its various incarnations , but I also began to read Wonder Woman regularly.  I now consider myself a fan of the Amazon from Paradise Island.  That's why I had to read and review The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore.

                                                         

I watched Katha Pollitt's interview with Jill Lepore on the subject of this book on Book TV, and was fascinated by what Lepore had to say.  Now that I've read it, I still admire it as a feat of research.  She presented Wonder Woman in the context of the early 20th century feminism that inspired her creator, William Moulton Marston, and in the context of  his life and unconventional family.

Yet Lepore tells us that  Olive Byrne inspired Wonder Woman. She was an integral part of Marston's household, but this is where I part company with Lepore.  Olive Byrne may have worn the bracelets, but her lifestyle choices were not those of a superhero.  Her mother was Ethel Byrne, the sister of Margaret Sanger.  Ethel Byrne had been an activist for the cause of birth control.  She disapproved of her daughter because Olive chose a support role in Marston's life and career rather than having an independent life with her own career.  I feel that women have a right to live as they choose.  Not all women want to be heroes.

 In fact, it seems to me that Olive probably had very conventional aspirations.  She was absolutely adamant that her role in Marston's life as his lover and mother of two of his children must never become known.  She even invented a fictional husband who supposedly fathered her sons.  She must have been very uncomfortable with being one of three women in Marston's life, and would have preferred a monogamous lifestyle.  She stated that she hid the identity of their father for the sake of her sons, but this implies that she didn't feel that she could defend her life choices to her children once they were adults.  If she had been the sort of woman who inspired Wonder Woman, she wouldn't have lived a life that made her feel ashamed. 

Lepore shows us that it was a man who inspired Marston's interest in the feminist movement of his day.   His name was  George Herbert Palmer.  The 1933 article from The Harvard Crimson that I've linked calls him influential because of his "genius in teaching".  For the purposes of this review, it's most significant that he was the advisor of a student organization called the Harvard Men's League for Women's Suffrage.  This means that Marston probably wasn't the only Harvard student who was influenced by Palmer to become a supporter of  feminist causes.   When Marston married, he chose the independent-minded feminist Sadie Elizabeth Holloway who was the household's breadwinner during the Great Depression  when Marston couldn't find work.  Certainly Holloway was closer to being a superwoman type than Olive.

I've seen reviews on Goodreads which state that Marston's lifestyle, which some would now call polyamorous, showed that he wasn't really a sincere feminist.  I admit that I didn't think much of his failing to give collaborator's credit to Olive for all the work she did on his psychology book, Emotions of Normal People.  This represents a widespread problem in academia. Marston was a professor of psychology at various universities. Olive began as Marston's research assistant.  Research assistants, who aren't always women, are still rarely given credit for their work on a professor's writing projects no matter how extensively they contributed to them.  Academic writers consider this a completely acceptable practice.  The research assistants aspire to become professors who will in turn utilize the labor of their research assistants without giving them credit.

So Marston was a flawed human being, but it would have been a huge loss to many women if he hadn't created Wonder Woman.  One of the really valuable aspects of the Wonder Woman comic when Marston had creative control, was the Wonder Women of History insert.  LePore doesn't believe that Marston wrote these profiles of noteworthy historical women, but there is evidence that he selected them.  Lepore thinks that Dorothy Roubicek (later known by her married name of Woolfolk) the first woman editor at DC Comics, was the one who wrote the text for Wonder Women of History. Marston did write the story of how Wonder Woman took a boy back in time to witness the Celtic Warrior  Woman Boadicea's  revolt against the Romans which was published in 1946.  It wasn't Marston who robbed Wonder Woman of her powers. It was Denny O'Neill who was responsible for this change in 1968. 

I personally am grateful to Marston for giving us Wonder Woman even though he can't be considered a feminist in modern terms, and Lepore is the ideal historian to present Marston to us with all his eccentricities intact.  In The Secret History of Wonder Woman William Moulton Marston and the women of his household live for us again.

                                                   

                                                        

Awakenings: A Lesbian Couple Dealing With Post WWII Trauma

I am writing this review from the perspective of someone who hasn’t read the three previous novels in the Interwined Souls series.  Awakenings is my first exposure to the work of Mary D. Brooks. I purchased it on Amazon and have reviewed it for The Bookplex.

                                                  

                                                       

The cover above gives readers their first impression of a book. I found the cover of this lesbian post-WWII novel lovely yet subtle.  I call it subtle because I had to look at it twice to see that it depicted two women lovers.

On the other hand, the poem that precedes the novel isn't of especially good quality.  Its language is pedestrian and it adds nothing to the novel.

 Awakenings deals with many important themes.  My feeling is that the book was overloaded with themes.  Brooks could have written several books dealing with this material. It deals with Nazi atrocities against lesbians and gay men, the long-term impact of abuse, the difficulty of accepting paranormal gifts in a world where they aren’t well understood and alternative perceptions of family. I particularly appreciated the honest depiction of Eva’s disabilities resulting from her horrifying mistreatment in the mental institution where she was forcibly consigned in an effort to eradicate her lesbian identity.  

 In addition, there is an unconventional Christian spiritual element in the novel that becomes more pronounced once the characters arrive in Germany.  This novel isn’t likely to attract religious fundamentalists, but I thought I’d emphasize that Awakenings deals with religion in a highly unorthodox manner.  As a result of research, I discovered that it  draws on a central doctrine of Pentecostalism, a Protestant evangelist sect, but the characters who are espousing these beliefs in the book are Catholic.  This seemed rather odd to me.  I also wonder how members of the Pentecostal movement would react to Brooks' use of their beliefs to explain the paranormal element in her book. 

 Awakenings develops some very interesting backgrounds for all the inter-related characters. Yet I was occasionally confused.  I recall that I initially wondered if Father Haralambos was part of the Lambros family.  I eventually figured out all the complexities, but it seemed to me that Brooks was juggling too many characters along with her multiplicity of themes. 
 

Plot seemed to take a back seat until the last section that took place in Germany.  Very little happened in real time in the first half of the book that took place in Greece.  The book as a whole is overburdened with scenes in which the characters discuss events that occurred in the past.   It’s true that some of these scenes were emotionally intense, but I would have preferred more flashbacks and less dialogue.  Flashbacks are a more immediate and effective method of handling exposition.

There were no typographical errors, but editing is about more than spelling and grammar.  Awakenings needed an editor that addressed the structural problems I’ve mentioned in the above paragraphs.  There were moments in this book that I absolutely loved, but it could have been so much better.  Awakenings really could have used more focus. 

                                                  

The Garden of Letters: The Cellist Who Was Code Named Dragonfly

I originally wrote this post for Book Babe, but I thought the readers of this blog would appreciate it as well.

The Garden of Letters by Alyson Richman takes place in Italy during WWII.  I have not visited Italy in WWII through the pages of a book since reading The Garden of the Finzi-Continis during my teen years. Regrettably, I have not read Alyson Richman since The Mask Carver’s Son which I very much admired for the way it showed the differences between the perspective of art as a tradition, and the perspective of art as an individual accomplishment.  In The Garden of Letters Richman deals with the perspective of a musician discovering her true priorities in a time of fear and privation.  

                                                

When I read about fictional protagonist Elodie Bertolotti’s dedication to music and her love for the fine cello that her father had given her, I was reminded of The Rainaldi Quartet by Paul Adam, a mystery I read some time ago  dealing with luthiers and the love of great violins with a history behind them.  It also took place in Italy, but it didn’t stray outside the world of music as The Garden of Letters does.  Because when your friends are courting danger and your country is about to be invaded by alleged allies, being absorbed in music is not enough for a person of integrity.  I was impressed by Elodie’s courage when she joins the Resistance, and her ingenuity in inventing a new means of secret communication.  I’ve read a number of novels dealing with the French Resistance.  I had expected the Italian Resistance to be similar, but Elodie brought her background into the Resistance which gave fighting the Nazis an unusual twist. 

I would like to discuss a few thoughts I had about The Garden of Letters of the title.  It was seen as a private expression of love, but no one ever called it art or its creator an artist.  Do people only think it’s art if it’s public and the elite give it sanction?   Does the fact that a woman created it for her husband make it not art?   If so, then the definition of art needs to be broadened.  My paternal grandmother had examples of her crewel embroidery hanging on a wall of her living room.  Few people got to see them, but I’d definitely consider them art.  My grandmother was an artist with her needle.   I think that Dalia, the creator of The Garden of Letters, was an artist though she probably would never have thought of herself that way.  All expressions of the creative impulse could be considered art. The Garden of Letters also gave Dalia the strength to deal with separation from her husband.  Therapeutic art is still art. 

The Garden of Letters shifts perspectives and time periods.  I never got confused even though the story didn’t unfold in linear order.    I didn’t think that the head hopping was unclear or excessive.    Other readers might have problems with the author’s narrative techniques, but I consider this the best historical fiction that I’ve read so far in 2015.

                                                                     

                                                             

                                            

Forty Days Without Shadow: A French Thriller Dramatizes The Issues of the Sami of Lapland

I wrote this post for Shomeret:Masked Reviewer, but it originally appeared on Book Babe.

When I was a child my favorite book was Lapland Outlaw by Arthur Catherall which I got from the Weekly Reader Book Club.  Catherall’s children’s book may have involved some inaccuracies, but it taught me that people in other cultures have different values which need to be respected.   The sixteen year old Sami boy who was the central character had grown up as a nomadic herder of reindeer.  He felt panicked by being enclosed within four walls and fought to maintain his ancestral way of life. 

I haven’t visited with the Sami through the pages of a book for a great many years, but it was my memory of Lapland Outlaw that caused me to obtain Forty Days Without Shadow which is an English translation of the French thriller Le Dernier Lapon by Olivier Truc. 

                                                 

The protagonists are Klemet Nango and Nina Nansen who are officers of the Reindeer Police. Klemet Nango is a Sami who feels cut off from his culture because he was forced to attend boarding school where his language and cultural practices were forbidden.  This is similar to the experiences of Native Americans and other indigenous peoples.  Nina Nansen is a Norwegian woman who is a recent graduate of police academy.  She insists on being respected by other male law enforcement officers.  The Sami are very alien to her, but she makes an effort to learn their customs. The Reindeer Police are responsible for enforcing regulations regarding reindeer herding, but Klemet knows the local herders.  This is probably why he and Nina are assigned to investigate when an antique Sami drum goes missing from the museum, and a herder is stabbed to death.    

I was very interested in finding out more about the Sami.  I found it especially intriguing that the roofs of traditional Sami tents were covered with interlaced antlers that were supposed to be arranged so that you could see the sky through them.  This is similar to the huts that are constructed for the Jewish holiday of Sukkot.  My Jewish ancestors were also once nomadic herders.  Perhaps this is why I feel a connection to the Sami. 

I also found out from this novel why the situation for the Sami and reindeer in Finland is so different from Norway and Sweden.  I located additional information about Reindeer Herding in Finland from a website on the Sami maintained by the University of Texas.  The events of this novel take place in Norway where ethnic Sami still have the exclusive right to herd reindeer.   Some of the Sami depicted in this book have definitely modernized.  I got a kick out of Klemet’s uncle writing songs in the Sami language and performing them on You Tube.  Here’s a Modernized Example of a Sami Song on You Tube  and here is a More Traditional Example .

Sami drums were used in shamanistic ceremonies.  The old traditional drums that had belonged to shamans are very rare.  The drums are usually covered with symbols which have been studied by anthropologists who may or may not be mistaken in their interpretations.  Each drum is unique and the symbols may have had personal meaning for the shamans who owned them.   I found an artist’s rendering of a Sami shaman displaying his drum on Wikipedia which is in the public domain because the artist created it in the 18^th century.   I wanted readers to see how amazing these drums are, so I have included the image in this review below. 

                                                  

I thought the characters were well drawn and well-motivated.  I found both of the protagonists sympathetic, and although the villains weren’t at all sympathetic, they were very credible.  I appreciated the fact that Nina played an active role in the case.  Since she knew French, she went to France to interview the French collector who had donated the drum to the museum to find out more about the stolen drum and the circumstances in which he acquired it.  She also brought about a major break in the case due to her rapport with a female Sami who trusted her.   

This was an excellent novel from the thriller perspective.  There were issues involving party politics in Norway, racism, World War II and predatory behavior by mining companies.  It was a suspenseful and involving story line from start to finish.  I loved Forty Days Without Shadow.

                                                

The Seven Perfumes of Sacrifice: The Honor Killing of a Woman Artist

In The Seven Perfumes of Sacrifice American journalist Fereby McCullough Jones investigates the killing of  a woman in the Druze community of Israel who had become her friend.  Reviews of this book often remark that life for Druze women is so terrible, but they don't get the larger point that author Amy Logan is making.


                                                       

 We like to think that honor killing is something that happens in other countries, and in cultures other than our own.  In first world cultures, honor is considered an old fashioned concept.  Yet if you replace the word "honor" with the word "reputation", then you see that honor killings happen everywhere.  If honor were about personal integrity, then no one would kill another person for it.  If you don't maintain your own integrity and do things that you believe are wrong, there is no one to blame but yourself.   It's the idea of externalizing honor and making other people responsible for maintaining it that has brought about this worldwide legacy of murder. It is important to emphasize that the people who are most often held responsible for maintaining the honor or reputation of families are women and children.   Their actions don't just reflect on themselves, but are seen as reflecting on the entire family unit.   The punishment for actions that are seen as injuring the family reputation is often a lifetime of abuse rather than murder, but abuse can become murder when emotional control is lost in a moment of fury.

When Fereby starts stirring up trouble in Israel, her parents in the United States become irate.  They believe that her actions reflect on them.   Fereby searches for the cultural basis of honor killing among the Druze, but the thoughtful reader may notice that she could look a good deal closer to home.  Fereby  eventually realizes how her parents' attitudes have damaged her, and begins to see connections between her own life and that of her dead friend, Leila Azzam.

It seems to me that this urge to kill for reputation actually goes far beyond family.  Political and religious murders happen when individuals are seen as injuring the reputations of their country, ethnic group or religion.  Some individuals  have been killed because they have injured the reputations of powerful corporations by calling attention to illegal or unethical actions of those corporations.  These are all honor killings.

Another aspect of this novel that I loved is Leila's art.  Leila created paintings that are rich in symbolism drawn from ancient esoteric philosophy and from folk traditions of Goddess worship. Leila's work was concealed from her family because the Druze religion is an offshoot of Islam which forbids images.  Some of these paintings are described in detail so that I could see them in my imagination.  I wished that she were a real artist so that I could see them in actuality at a real museum or gallery. The fictional character  Leila Azzam is presented as a genius equivalent to the widely admired Mexican painter, Frida Kahlo.  I would also compare her to Chaim Potok's fictional artist, Asher Lev, who challenged the beliefs of the anti-image Hasidic Jewish community through his work. Potok's novel, My Name Is Asher Lev, is an old favorite of mine.

In addition, I was interested in learning the role that reincarnation plays in Druze beliefs, and in Leila's tragically short life.

There were some wonderful characters in this novel other than Fereby and Leila.  I particularly enjoyed Fereby's  gay cross-dressing translator, Moshe.  Leila's brother, Fadi, is eventually revealed as a character of great depth and pathos.  So this is not a book that condemns all men as villains.  Amy Logan shows all her characters as individuals who are responsible for their choices.  In fact, I'd say that the central theme of this novel is that individual lives have value.

The powerful emotions and reflections provoked by The Seven Perfumes of Sacrifice are the reasons why I consider this novel the best book I read in 2014.

                                                            
                                                           

 

My 2014 Retrospective

                                                               

                                                        

                                                                                                                                 
First I'll start with a few statistics which I'll present in narrative format because I have comments on them.

I only posted 26 times since this blog was established.  I really need to do better.  I certainly hope that I will post more frequently and with greater regularity in 2015. I owe it to my readers to improve.

I'm happy that I have had more than a fourteen hundred total views.  Since it's a relatively new blog,  my number of views has exceeded my expectations.

I blog here and at Book Babe which is an older and more established blog with a following.  My assumption was that my most viewed post this year would be at Book Babe.  On the average, my posts at Book Babe do get more viewers.  Yet my most viewed post is The Merman and The Barbarian Pirate   right here on this blog.  I'd like to think that it's popular because I reviewed an LGBT fantasy novel the same way I'd review any other book.

Now I'd like to present

                                                        The Golden Mask Awards

Favorite Book of 2014

The Seven Perfumes of Sacrifice by Amy Logan (2012)

This title is also the best indie  that I read in 2014 (from small publisher Priya Press in San Francisco), and the best mystery I read in 2014 as well.  Since I finished it at 11:30 p.m. on New Year's Eve, I have not yet had an opportunity to review it.  My review of this amazing feminist novel dealing with honor killing in the Druze community in Israel will definitely be the first review I post in 2015.

  Favorite Book Published in 2014

Last Stop Klindenspiel by Marta Tandori (2014)

This novel dealing with a post-WWII circus in Poland is also the best YA book that I read in 2014 and the best historical fiction that I read in 2014 as well.  I reviewed it on Book Babe  here .

Favorite Fantasy Novel in 2014

Random by Alma Alexander (2014)

This  highly original fantasy deals with an entirely new approach to shapeshifters.  I reviewed it on this blog here.

Favorite Romance Novel in 2014

Girl on a Wire by Gwenda Bond (2014)

This delightful YA Romeo and Juliet novel steeped in circus history and traditions was one that I reviewed on Book Babe here.

Favorite Net Galley in 2014

Bitter Greens by Kate Forsyth (originally published in 2012)

This Australian import that is partly historical fiction and partly a unusual retelling of the fairy tale Rapunzel was reviewed by me on Book Babe here.

Favorite Bookplex Book of 2014

How The Water Falls by K.P. Kollenborn (2014)

This powerful portrayal of South Africa's journey in overcoming apartheid was reviewed on this blog
here.

Favorite Book Won From a Booklikes Giveaway

I won seven books from Booklikes and haven't had a chance to read them all, but the best book I did read from Booklikes in 2014 is:

Rhinoceros Summer by Jamie Thornton (2013)

This well-characterized portrayal of an American teen photographer in Africa is one I reviewed on Book Babe here.  It was also my most viewed post on Book Babe.

I would like to thank my readers for their interest in this blog, and my co-blogger Tara Chevrestt for welcoming me to the Book Babe band of reviewers.


                                                

 
 
 





 
 

The Mapmaker's Daughter: Choosing To Be Jewish in the Midst of Persecution

I had no expectations of The Mapmaker's Daughter by Laurel Corona when I decided to read it.  I had never read this author.  I had seen the book in my Goodreads friends feed and was curious.  Yet when I didn't have time to finish the book and was forced to return it to the library, I checked it out again because I was so impressed by what I'd read.

It deals with a fictional woman who was born Jewish in 15th century Spain.  Her family converted to Christianity but she never really stopped being Jewish.  If you think this is another book about the hidden Jews of Spain, you would be wrong.  This is a very different story. 

                                                       

In the first two sections of this book the accomplishments of fictional  protagonist Amalia were really impressive.  As an adolescent she created a signing system for her deaf father, and presumably taught it to him so that they could utilize it for communication.  Then she became his interpreter.  Since her father became the mapmaker for Prince Henry the Navigator, he traveled in exalted circles and so did she.  She had a facility for spoken languages and learned a number of them.  Later she translated a great deal of Hebrew poetry into Portuguese for the Duke of Braganza.  She also wrote her own poetry.  She became the instructor of the grandchildren of the King of Granada, and then returned to her birthplace to teach the future Queen Isabella of Castille.

Yet Amalia maintained family as her haven when she felt a need for support.  What's interesting about this is that it wasn't her genetic family of conversos.  Amalia had actually chosen a prominent family that remained Jewish, and were leaders in the Jewish community of Andalusia, as her own.  They warmly embraced Amalia.  They were the Abravanels. The Abravanels of this era are known historical personages.   See the Wikipedia article on Isaac Abravanel who is a significant character in this novel.

So I felt that the third section in which Amalia made a permanent life for herself among the Abravanels  and completely identified with them also made a strong statement.  She could have made another choice, and become a fervent Christian converso like her sisters.    She had a number of opportunities to take that road.  She could have joined Ferdinand and Isabella's court as a converso, but it was filled with intolerance, danger and suspicion. She had previously experienced a culturally vibrant court in Granada where her knowledge was valued and her Jewish religion was respected.  It's easy to see why Amalia decided to distance herself from the monarchs known as Their Most Christian Majesties.    

Yet what about her father the mapmaker and the maps he made?  I was impressed with her father. He refused to continue making maps for Prince Henry the Navigator when he discovered that the Portuguese prince was using them to build the slave trade.  Both Amalia and her father thought that slavery was wrong, and that participation in it would be a betrayal of the memory of their Biblical ancestors who were slaves in Egypt.

I also liked the fact that Amalia's father was a deaf character who was widely respected for his profession. Thanks to his daughter's sign language and her role as interpreter, being deaf didn't hold him back.  Judah Abravanel says in the novel that if Amalia's sign language became more widely known, it could bring people together and reduce conflict.   I smiled at that point because it reminded me of  "The Bridge of Signs" proposed by deaf writer, Albert Ballin.  I blogged about it at The Unmasked Persona here .  Ballin believed that people could communicate by deaf sign language when they had no other language in common.  Yet deaf sign language isn't one language by any means.  In The Mapmaker's Daughter, the signs utilized by Amalia and her father were a language known by only two individuals.  Today there are national sign languages, but they are all quite different. They also each have dialects and idiolects.  Idiolects refers to individual variations in signing.  They make sign language a very expressive means of communication for individuals.  So the vision of an international "Bridge of Signs" that I encountered again in this novel is utopian and highly unlikely.

After her father's death, the only thing that Amalia had left from her father was his atlas.  Some other reviewers of this book didn't understand why the atlas kept on being brought up.  I believe that it represented mesorah, a Hebrew word which literally means that which is passed down.  It is through mesorah that a culture and a people survive.  Amalia shared the atlas with her daughter and grandchildren.  It was a link to her father that could be passed down through the generations of the Abravanel family.  That is the way that she preserved her father's memory.  The dictionary definition of mesorah is tradition, and family tradition is of paramount importance in a Jewish context.  I appreciated the significance of the atlas for Amalia and her descendants.

For me, the themes of Jewish survival and the maintenance of tradition were very well demonstrated by Laurel Corona through the story of Amalia in The Mapmaker's Daughter.