Such clear vision! Laura Kipnis manages to look, open-eyed, at all the things women do to each other, as well as those things we allow to happen to us, in defining ourselves as a gender. Yet, this isn't a heavy read - it's fun and full of humour, both gentle and sharp. Kipnis is a well-known writer on so-called women's issues, and here she lays it on the line, asking why we take on the responsibility for housekeeping, why we wallow in envy and vulnerability instead of being strong, why we allow the depiction of our normally womanly functions as dirty.
Way back when I was breastfeeding my babies, one of my associates shuddered with horror at the thought. "That's disgusting," she said, "My breasts are for my husband." I wondered then, and still wonder now, how such wonderfully useful appendages became only appropriate for sexual satisfaction. It's easy to say it's because men wanted it that way, but, as Kipnis says, they've been aided and abetted by women.
I highly recommend this book for some true "aha!" moments and many wry laughs as you recognize yourself in the pages. It's something all women should read, and then leave around for the men in their life to read. The lessons are many, but the writing is so delightful you barely notice them going down... ( )

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. ( )

I bought this book thinking I might learn something, and though it was a fairly interesting read, I didn't feel much better afterward. I was going through a difficult relationship situation, and though it still continues, I'm not quite as stressed as I was about it. The book was good, but not too helpful. ( )

Witty and daring, these essays are more interested in provoking debate than pronouncing upon the state of contemporary feminism. Still worth a read. ( )