Did You Ever Cut Your Hair? Haircuts in Life and Literature

Shelley Duvall in “Bernice Bobs Her Hair”

“I’m not doing that anymore,” I said fiercely. “All that money for this!”

If you’re a woman, you’ll intuit my meaning.  Of course I’m talking about hair.  Last winter, a stylist gave me a bad haircut, which is difficult to do, since I’m a wash-and-go gal.  

Was it the worst haircut I’ve had?  That would be hard to say.  It was bad.  Very bad. But I remember years ago after cutting my beautiful long hair for the first time, I sobbed and went from salon to salon trying to get it fixed.  My mother had warned me not to cut it.  She said it would never grow back the same. I should have “let my freak flag fly,” as Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young advised in their song, “Almost Cut My Hair.”  Even my mother thought so.

There has been crying and devastation in the past. In my twenties, I emerged from a salon with a hairdo that managed to be both poufy and ragged. It was a cross between country and punk, i.e., Loretta Lynn and Joan Jett, and not an ideal look for bicyclists.  I arrived everywhere with feral hair that grew wilder as I pedaled. I carried a hairbrush in my bike kit and tried to tame my hair before I entered buildings inhabited by humans.  I looked forward to bedhead, because it smooshed my hair down.  What I noticed:  most people have normal hair.  I certainly wish I did.

Here’s how to survive a bad haircut.  Wear hairpins and barrettes to tame it.  Wait for it to grow out.  But this recent bad haircut had magical properties. It just wouldn’t stop growing along the same bad lines.  It got worse and more unruly

A couple of months ago, I finally cut it myself, with the blunt scissors we use for opening packages. 

It  lay down flat on my head. “You mean it could have looked like this all the time?” 

But then it started to grow. And guess what?  It, too, was unmanageable.  I had to snip off sections of hair every couple of days.  I obviously do not know how to cut hair.

In August, I finally got a good professional haircut. I am so relieved.  

In literature women have complicated experiences with their hair, too.  Here are some examples.

1 . “Bernice Bobs Her Hair” by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Bernice gets attention by boasting that she’ll have her hair bobbed, and then loses all attraction for men.  Poor Bernice!

2.  The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot.  The heroine, Maggie, cuts her own hair as a child after her mother and aunt talk about how unruly it is.  And she gets into a lot of trouble.

3.  Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.  In one chapter,  Jo sells her hair, her “one beauty!”—to pay for her mother’s train ticket to Washington, D.C., after they received a telegram informing them that Father is ill in a military hospital in Washington, D.C.   (He is a Chaplain in the Civil War.) In another chapter, Jo accidentally burns off her sister Meg’s bangs with hair tongs before they attend a dance.

4.  Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy.  Anna gets ill and all her beautiful hair has to be cut.  What is it about haircuts and illness in the 19th century?

5. The Summer Before the Dark by Doris Lessing.  At the end of a summer away from her husband and children, Kate comes to term with aging and stops buying into the consumer culture.  She resolves to stop cutting her hair and wear it in a bun,  but compromises by continuing to wear “nice” clothes so as to fit in with her family.  Her hair is just for her.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A BAD HAIRCUT?  AND WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE BAD “HAIR-DO” EPISODES IN LITERATURE?

A Brilliant Novel: Elizabeth Berridge’s “Upon Several Occasions”

The writer Elizabeth Berridge (1919-2009) is little-known in the U.S.  If Persephone not published a collection of her short stories, Tell It to a Stranger, I would never have heard of her. I have thoroughly enjoyed her novels, too, and am especially fond of Upon Several Occasions, published in 1953 and reissued as a Faber Finds paperback in 2009.  I loved this so much I wanted to go back and start over as soon as I finished it.

This mesmerizing novel begins with elements of coziness that may mislead the readers into thinking this is Barbara Pym territory.  The village setting delights us:  we Americans imagine  knitting, cats, cocoa, and faithful church attendance. And there is much of this.  In the first chapter, the tactful rector’s wife, Mrs. Peters, secretary of the Women’s League, coaxes its reticent members to decide on a destination for their annual outing. They finally choose Bristow, and since Mrs. Peters knew  this would be the choice, she is relieved when the meeting ends and they bring out the card tables and tea.

upon berridgeBut the reader’s preconceptions of cozy village life are broken by Mrs. Peters’s disillusionment.  She knows the village too well:  she foresees that the fierce  rivalry between her husband and Mr. Merrion, the chapel minister, will end in Mr. Merrion’s organizing a rival Youth Club trip to Bristow.  (He does.)  But Mrs. Peters is not cynical: she is irritated because she is grieving for a son who died in Burma, and her years in the village seem empty without him.  

The clarity of Berridge’s understated prose, her quiet but precise descriptions, vivid characters, and sharp dialogue make this novel a near-classic.  In just a few paragraphs, she touchingly reveals the nature of Mrs. Peters’s tragedy.  When she tells her husband about the trip to Bristow, he says,

“Bristow, eh?  We haven’t been there for–let me see…”

“Just after Noddy was born,” his wife said, with a woman’s accuracy for nostalgic dates.  “Twenty-five years ago.”

Involuntarily she looked up at the portrait of their son, smiling down from the mantelpiece, but she did not feel the familiar contraction behind the eyes, no tears came.  How, as a clergyman’s wife, could she comfort the bereaved if she gained no help from the Christian comfort the Church gave?  She was resigned, not joyfully–that was too much to ask from a mother–to the death of her son in Burma.

elizabethberridge
Elizabeth Berridge

Mrs. Peters in a way holds the reins, but we also get to know two working-class families. On the trip to Bristow, Berridge reveals the characters in depth.   The sweet but long-suffering Mrs. Barnard has arranged to see an old school friend in Bristow: she  is thrilled to have time off from her difficult unmarried daughter, Mady, who is over thirty and lives with her.  Mady is quite a storyteller, or a pathological liar, depending on your point-of-view:  she uses her time in Bristow to pick up two men, giving different names to each and telling tall tales about her life.  She is astonished when one of them sees through her, laughs at her, and arranges to meet her again.  She is not used to such success.

Meanwhile, Doris Weldon, the snappish mother of three children and wife of a workaholic forester, rediscovers the joys of a day out.  Her youngest child has a babysitter, and the two oldest are in Bristow with the Methodist Youth Club. Her only regret is that her husband wouldn’t take the day off and accompany her.  But she is ready to embrace her family at the end of a mellow day.  Which, alas, does not end as she’d hoped. 

The end of the trip brings us back to real life.  There are celebrations and tragedies.  Upon Several Occasions  is a quiet book, but I was riveted by Berridge’s sketches of women’s lives during a hot dry summer, a harvest festival, a wedding, and a flood.

What Historical Novel Should I Read? and Musings on Obsolete Slang

There were three pokes before the phlebotomist could draw blood, but he/she left no bruises, which indicated a degree of professional competence.  Bemused, weary, and bandaged, I biked home and decided to escape into pop fiction.  Will I find refuge in a historical novel?

Here is the stack of books I am considering.

1 . The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart.  I enjoyed The Crystal Cave, the first of the Merlin trilogy, and though I prefer Stewart’s charming Gothics, her writing is on a higher level here.  The trilogy is categorized as  fantasy, but they are  really historical novels about mythic characters.  As always, Stewart meticulously researches the background, and the details about political conflicts and Merlin’s  protecting Arthur are fascinating.  I hope The Hollow Hills is as good.

2.  Dorothy Dunnett’s The Game of Kings.  Everyone recommends this six-book series about a Scottish soldier. Is it time for me to read it?   (See an entertaining essay in The Guardian.)

3.  Hilary Bailey’s Cassandra, Princess of Troy.  I can’t remember who recommended this, but Bailey is an excellent writer.  Here is an excerpt from the Bloomsbury Reader description:  “Hilary Bailey re-invents the history of the Trojan Wars and tells a new story of Cassandra. Legend has it that Cassandra died at the hand of Clytemnestra, but in this novel she escapes to a farm in Thessaly, and writes her own account of the fall of Troy.”

4.  John Cowper Powys’s Porius. I read several of Powys’s novels after reading this essay by Margaret Drabble in The Guardian, but Porius, a 751-page novel set in the year 499,  may defeat me because of the tiny print.

The New Yorker said in 2007: “This immense, robustly imagined novel was whittled down by more than five hundred pages when it was first published, in 1951. Powys’s original conception is here restored, a dense, complex merging of modern psychology and ancient mythology. In Wales in the year 499, the ruling Celts learn that the Saxons and the forest people are advancing against them; Porius, the son of the Celt prince, awaits the coming battle while ruminating on the eternal conflicts between male and female, nature and humankind, pagan and Christian.”

5.  Mary Renault’s Alexander trilogy:  Fire from Heaven, The Persian Boy, and Funeral Games.  I read Fire from Heaven after the TLS published the introduction to the Folio Society edition of the trilogy.    I have two to go.  From the Goodreads book description:  “This is Mary Renault’s masterly evocation of ancient Greece and Alexander the conqueror, beautiful, beloved – and flawed. ”

WHERE DOES THE SLANG GO?

My mother used the following slang expressions. Were they dialect,  I wonder? Or were they American idioms?  They are long obsolete.

crooked as a dog’s hind leg, as in “Your part is crooked as a dog’s hind leg.”  (This was said to me often.)

fussbudget – someone fussy

slow as molasses 

cute as a bug

oopsy daisy!

old as Methuselah

Darn!  (instead of damn)

too old for you (Mom said this mostly of clothes)

quick as a wink

don’t count your chickens… [before they’re hatched]

tickled pink – happy, amused, and surprised

happy as a clam 

Sleep tight!

THERE ARE MORE, BUT I CAN’T REMEMBER THEM.  That’s the trouble with disused slang.

After a Bad Book, What Do You Read? Laurie Colwin’s “Family Happiness”

I wandered around the house, looking for a great book.  I was near tears after wasting time on a couple of lousy books.   It’s a literary cycle—kind of like a washing-machine cycle—of book addiction and despair. 

We finicky readers have great expectations and are devastated when we’re led astray.  Despite what the reviewers tell you, there is no new Jane Austen.  Remember that.  

I expect books to inspire, to breathe ideas, language, and comfort into my soul.  Last week I returned to the 20th century and rediscovered the charming Laurie Colwin (1944-1992), whose novels and short stories are as pertinent now as they were when they were first published.  Her brilliant short stories appeared in The New Yorker and she was a columnist for Gourmet magazine.  

I decided to reread my favorite Colwin novel, Family Happiness (1982), which is so witty and lucid that I experienced linguistic uplift.  The title, of course, refers to the first line of Anna Karenina:  “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Laurie Colwin

The charming, funny heroine, Polly Solo-Miller Demerast, is almost perfect.  She is the loving wife of a workaholic lawyer, Henry Demerast, the perfect mother of Pete and Didi, the devoted daughter of eccentric, difficult parents, Wendy and Henry, Sr., and the hard-working Coordinator of Research in Reading Projects and Methods for the information arm of the Board of Education.  

Colwin wittily begins the novel:

Polly Solo-Miller Demerast was the perfect flower of the Solo-Miller family.  This family had everything:  looks, brains, money, a strong, fortified sense of clan, and branches in Boston, Philadelphia, and New York, as well as London, just like a banking house.  The patriarch of the New York gang was Henry Solo-Miller, husband of the former Constanzia Hendricks, nicknamed Wendy.  Both were of old, old Jewish families, the sort that are more identifiably old American than Jewish.  Solo-Millers and Hendrickses had come from Holland via Spain before the American Revolution, and which they had either taken part in or raised money for. 

Polly does everything for everybody, but nobody praises her or notices her accomplishments.  She retains the appearance of family happiness until she falls in love with Lincoln, a brilliant artist who grew up with her brother Henry, Jr., and is unimpressed by the Solo-Millers.  Their love affair is charming and sweet, but it stirs up uncertainty and anxiety.

This beautifully-written novel is not much like Anna Karenina, but Polly did read Anna Karenina on her honeymoon.  That is not a good sign.

What a terrific book.  I recommend it:  it will make you chortle, and you will also empathize with Polly’s angst in love.  Colwin understands it all.  Which is more important:  family or romantic love?  Tolstoy and Colwin consider both points-of-view.

Elizabeth Gaskell’s Travel Reading & Other Literary Entertainments

I kept exclaiming last week over the fascinating lore in Leah Price’s new book, What We Talk About When We Talk About Books. And I know you’ll enjoy the following anecdote:  in the nineteenth century, novelist Elizabeth Gaskell read her neighbor’s book over his shoulder on a horse-drawn omnibus.

Price writes,

Eyeing the first installment of Dickens’s Little Dorrit over the shoulder of a passenger on a Manchester bus in 1855, Elizabeth Gaskell complained that her fellow traveler “was such a slow reader… you’ll sympathize.… [with] my impatience at his never getting to the bottom of the page.”

LITERARY LINKS

Actor Paul Giamatti at the Willa Cather Center

1 . The Willa Cather Center announced that actors Paul Giamatti and Clara Wong recently visited Red Cloud, Nebraska, where Cather grew up.  They toured the Cather Center, her childhood home, the Willa Cather Prairie, and other historic sites and stayed overnight in the Cather Second Home guest house.

“My mother was a high school English teacher,” Giamatti said. “My Ántonia was something she taught a lot, and so Cather was always around.” Giamatti was an English major before becoming an actor and shared that he was currently reading Cather’s The Song of the Lark and had particularly enjoyed Death Comes for the Archbishop, a novel he would love to see adapted for the big screen. For Wong, a native of Illinois, this visit marked her first Cather experiences. Both actors live and work in Brooklyn, New York, and appreciated their quiet visit to Red Cloud, eating at local restaurants and exploring on their own.

2.  At Bustle, Kerri Jarema writes about the popularity of vlogs at BookTube.

Reading vlogs — in which YouTube users, often called BookTubers, read and review books while sharing tidbits from their every day lives — are growing in popularity among readers. These videos usually run anywhere between 15 and 45 minutes. The more popular accounts, like PeruseProject (which boasts over 271,000 subscribers), can fetch up to 50,000 views per video. Reading those numbers, you might be asking yourself, “Why would someone enjoy watching someone else… read?”

Well, it turns out there are some fascinating psychological reasons why readers love BookTube.

Happy Reading, everybody!  It’s so hot  I sat outside in my pajamas tonight and read.  I hope you have better reading weather where you are.

Reading Too Many New Books: Stunning Reads & Stinkers

I’m notorious for loving tan-paged classics published in earlier centuries, but this year I’ve ventured into the manic-depressive world of new books.   Too many new books can bewilder you.  You’re dazed by the quantity and unexceptional quality.  Sometimes you wake up and think, Did So-and-So at the East Coast Buzz really review that?

And so I’m taking a short break from my wobbling TBR of new books, but first let me share my list of Stunning Reads and Stinkers of the year so far.

STUNNING READS

  1. Klotsvog by Margarita Khemlin, translated by Lisa C. Hayden.  A translation of this brilliant 2009 Russian novel was recently published by Columbia University Press.   The Jewish narrator,  Maya Klotsvog, dismisses the impact of Soviet history on her character, despite her tragic past.  Absorbed in love affairs and multiple marriages that ultimately hurt her family, she has a psychological explanation for other people’s errors, but does not examine her own.  The most extraordinary novel I’ve read this year.
  2. The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley.  A stunning, lyrical modern feminist retelling of Beowulf.
  3.  Frankissstein by Jeanette Winterson.  This retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein alternates two narratives, a fictional history of Mary Shelley and a narrative by a near-future doctor about the future of A.I.. This was longlisted for the Booker Prize.
  4. We Are All Good People Here by Susan Rebecca White.  In this beautifully-written novel,  two friends deal with political and social changes of the 1960s.  I recommend this to fans of Mary McCarthy’s The Group and Marge Piercy’s Vida.
  5. Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country by Pam Houston.  A collection of reflective essays on living on a ranch in Colorado with affectionate Irish wolfhounds,  miniature donkeys, no electricity, and dealing with climate change.

STINKERS!

  1. The Only Woman in the Room by Marie Benedict.  A very slight novel about actress Hedy Lamar. A disappointing Barnes and Noble book club selection.
  2. The Grammarians by Cathleen Schine.  This bon-bon of a book about intellectual identical red-haired twins who feud about grammar must be meant for the big screen.  To be read and forgotten.

Acceptable Condition: Some Used Books Are Not

A paperback in barely acceptable condition.

The used Penguin copy of Trollope’s The Eustace Diamonds has chocolate stains on the pages.  I think they’re chocolate stains. 

And that is not the only book in disgraceful condition.  Three pages of The Grapes of Wrath are dotted with holes, apparently from a paperpunch. Then there is a slightly foxed paperback of Hesiod’s Theogony, with a confused family tree of the creation myth scribbled in purple ink on the back page.

Ecce, as they say in Latin. Lo!  These all came from the same decaying store.  It reeks of mustiness and dirt, like a basement rec room or a rag shop in Dickens.  The name is The Bookstore, or perhaps Books, Books, Books!   We suggest it be changed to Acceptable Condition, which of course means the opposite.

“The problem with M’s store,” said a friend, “is he/she will buy any book in any condition to have a conversation.”

There are some lonely-heart bookstore owners, but I have observed mostly crusty anti-social types.  My impression is they are sick of humanity and just want to read the books. 

I was pondering this the other day while considering my long history and complex relationship with used bookstores.

In graduate school, we occasionally sold  books. I sold them so I could afford  tampons for too-frequent periods. My husband also sometimes sold books.  A cockroach once crawled out of a copy of Derrida’s Of Grammatology  he was trying to sell.  (It wasn’t his fault:  the cockroach was a southern thing.) As you can imagine, the store owner found it unacceptable.  

There are some extraordinary used bookstores.  I had good luck in a chilly (now defunct) bookshop called Linda’s, located in a dilapidated concrete building in Dubuque. In this quasi-garage, I found a Penguin of Elizabeth Gaskell’s Sylvia’s Lovers, a Barbara Pym I didn’t have, even a pristine set of Paul Scott’s The Raj Quartet, published by University of Chicago.

There used to be countless good-to-great used bookstores and there are still some:   Jackson Street Booksellers in Omaha, Paperbacks and Pieces in Winona, and Magers and Quinn in Minneapolis.  I would also love to visit The Frugal Muse in Wisconsin, because of the name.

What are your favorite used bookstores?  And have you found anything untoward in the less good ones?   Bacon as bookmarks?