I promise I'm not going to rattle on about Revelations: Diaries of Women, but it is such a treasure trove of a book that I can't help myself from just sharing a few more things, especially since I've had a chance to read a bit more--in particular the very interesting introduction.
The editors go into more detail about their choice of division headings; love, work and power. Keeping in mind Freud's idea of what a normal person should be able to do (his reply was "to love and to work) they interpreted it as neither one over the other rather a healthy dose of both that would result in a feeling of power, but power as energy not in control over others.
"We are familiar with the traditional cultural imbalance between work and love, where women have been allowed authority only in the sphere of love while men attend to the work of the world. Such an imbalance results in a warped expression of the individual's potential energy. For women: self-pity, masochism, manipulation, celebration of the torments of the heart, invalidism, madness. For men: slavery, war, corporate profits, destruction of the earth."
The diary excerpts are arranged in order of youth to old age showing how women have "compensated for this imbalance". I'm so intrigued by this book. All the diaries in it were written prior to the mid-1970s, so while some things may have changed drastically, I wonder how much has really remained the same. I'm not sure that imbalances have been rectified very much. I know it is slightly voyeuristic to read the words of these women which were likely meant to be kept entirely private, but it's seeing myself or my life in their words and experiences that is somehow comforting--to know that I'm not alone in what I feel or live through, which is why I suppose, I love reading in general. Learning a sense of empathy is so important. It's also very interesting to read about other women's lives and how they've changed historically over time.
There is a feminist slant to the book, which is not surprising considering when it was published. The editors wondered if fewer women would keep diaries in the future as taboos for how a woman can feel have disappeared and the fact that women can now speak much more openly about their feelings may make diaries less necessary. But the future is now, and I wonder if the art of journaling and keeping diaries has decreased over time? Has this technologically advanced age made diaries as obsolete as letter writing? I've never been one to keep a diary, but I can understand how therapeutic it can be. It would be interesting to see an updated version of this book, but I guess I should be reading what I have first rather than wishing for yet more.
I do want to share a couple of quotes that struck me. One is from Canadian artist, Emily Carr. Carr led a difficult life. She was a painter who received little recognition during her lifetime, but now is relatively well known and respected painter. Her style was expressionistic and she focused on indigenous subjects of the Pacific Northwest.
"I used to write diaries when I was young but if I put anything down that was under the skin I was in terror that someone would read it and ridicule me, so I always burnt them up before long . . . I wonder why we are always ashamed of our best parts and try to hide them. We don't mind ridicule of our 'silliness' but of our 'sobers,' oh! . . . "
Indeed. That is why I have never kept diaries myself!
And one more. The book starts with the youngest diarist, a seven-year-old Scottish girl who was instructed by her tutor to keep a diary. Not to give anything away, but Marjory Fleming died before she turned ten of meningitis. She lived from 1803-1811, and her diary would have disappeared into obscurity but some fifty years later it was published. An altered version was published as it was censored and cleaned up. She became (posthumously) quite famous, and even Mark Twain was familiar with her writing. About her he said:
"She was made out of thunder-storms and sunshine, and not even her perfunctory pieties and shop-made holiness could squelch her spirits or put out her fires for long. Under pressure of a pestering sense of duty she heaves a shovelful of trade godliness into her journals every little while, but it does not offend, for none of it is her own; it is all borrowed, it is convention, a custom of her environment, it is the most innocent of hypocrisies; and this tainted butter of hers soon gets to be as delicious to the reader as are the stunning and worldly sincerities she splatters around it every time her pen takes a fresh breath."
Isn't that marvelous? Can you tell she was high-spirited? I love especially the description of her being made out of thunderstorms and sunshine. Yep, I'm enjoying this one.