Voyager: 18th Century Sexuality, 20th Century Sexism

For Valentine's Day: a little meditation on 18th and 20th Century sexuality by way of Voyager....

One of the semi-reactionary threads that runs through the novel is the difference between 18th Century men and 20th Century men--with 18th Century men generally coming out on top (not intending anything off-color).  While rape is rampant, gender roles static, abuse frequent, prostitution commonplace, and marriage often miserable, nevertheless the novels come back time and again to the idea that men respect and protect women in a way that is qualitatively different in the 18th Century, even though they are, in fact, protected from other 18th C men.  I will return to this idea when male gallantry rears its head in Voyager.

Meanwhile, in a passage that's easy to overlook, Claire is subjected to a bothersome example of what happens when the code of honor dictating respect to women erodes, but the tendency to sexualize them remains.  In an italicized flashback, Claire is thinking back to Frank's first (somewhat involuntary) indication after Brianna's birth that he would like to "come home all the way":

I could do it—physically, at least. I had seen the doctor for a checkup the week before, and he had—with an avuncular wink and a pat on the bottom—assured me that I could resume “relations” with my husband at any time. (34)

The doctor's attitude--his "wink" and "pat on the bottom," should register immediately as behavior that is not suitable for a medical professional when dealing with a patient--of whatever sex.  His actions suggest vicarious pleasure and almost a lewd appreciation of her desire for sex.  There is no social code to hold him in check.

Interestingly, the doctor's behavior does resemble one 18th Century male--Dougal MacKenzie--and the liberties that he takes in the particular context of Claire's and Jamie's wedding, from the intimate position of kinsman, the power relationship as the brother of the lord of Clan MacKenzie, and from the bawdiness of 18th Century Scotts interactions.  Outwardly, the 20th Century revels less in sex--in fact, sex comes indoors in the 20th Century.  In the Outlander novels, the 18th Century is marked by a constant awareness of sexuality, and a sort of implicit celebration of its pleasure and fruitful potential that lurks just under the surface of interactions between men and women.  Shocking at times to a more contemporary sensibility (as when Claire is mortified at their companions' jesting about hers and Jamie's wedding night), nevertheless, there is an honesty and celebratory aspect to sex that is missing from the 20th Century scenes.

The doctor--supposedly a healer if not precisely a nurturer--who nevertheless occupies a position of power--can make insinuations about Claire's sexuality and even touch her inappropriately, though the culture is one in which sex is taken indoors, not discussed in public, and treated as something private--almost to the suggestion of shamefulness.  (There is also something to be said here about the predominance of male doctors.)  Frank--the suave gentleman of Claire's recollections--is the epitome of sneaky sexuality.  And yet, we generally think of the 20th Century as increasingly enlightened as compared to historical models of sexuality.  Whatever its historical accuracy, this flashback provides another indictment of the 20th Century as being less honest, less vital, and less desirable than the "barbaric" past.

***

A further note on Kindle reading...  When I copy from the Kindle App for Mac or Windows (which I use only at work on my lunch break), it automatically generates a reference when I paste the text:

Gabaldon, Diana (2004-10-26). Voyager (Outlander) (p. 34). Random House, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

This reference corresponds to the small trade paperback edition of Voyager with the green cover and gold brooch.

Reading Voyager: An Analysis of Technology-mediated Reading

I'm gearing up to start posting on the third book in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series, Voyager.  Note that I'm not gearing up to read the book--I've been working on it for about a week now, and I'm close to halfway finished (even with a busy week)!  But either because of how I'm reading it, or the book itself, or other writing I'm doing, I'm not stopping as often to post my analyses.

I love Outlander.  And I like Dragonfly in Amber.  Right now I'm trying to decide if I like Voyager more than the other two.  Probably not more than Outlander, because, well--Outlander starts the ball rolling.  There are mysteries and people to discover, places to see--and see again--a lot of sex and a lot of adrenaline.  And in fact, it is maybe the adrenaline that makes me feel like Outlander is not as easy to revisit.  But Voyager has the pace--it clips along very nicely, thank you!  Dragonfly in Amber does not have the same fast pace--which is just as well, because when I first read Outlander, I could not have handled another book of the same intensity so soon after.  My heart would have lept out of my chest!  But if it somewhat slower--if some parts even drag a bit for me--there is a lot in Dragonfly that can be considered, and analyzed.  Voyager is nice to just read.  There is not as much as in Outlander that's unfamiliar or disturbing.  Many of the essential comparisons between the 20th and the 18th Centuries have already been made by the third book.  It is a book with action, but not tense action--at least, not yet.  There is tension, but it comes later.  So it is a book that says to me, "Read me!  You know you want to.  Things are happening.  Come and see how they unfold!"  And it begs me to save the analysis for later.

On the other hand, I have many things that I plan to analyze.  I have them marked.  And the marking is a difference in my method.

For the first time, I am reading one of the Outlander books on my new Kindle.  For my birthday last month, I got a Kindle Paperwhite.  I had no idea that it would change my reading, though--literacy theory scholar that I am--I should probably have anticipated it.  Marshall McLuhan could have warned me, I'm sure.

Voyager is not the first book I have read on the Kindle--I read Lady of Devices: A Steampunk Novel by Shelly Adina (it's free for Kindle), which was not a terribly challenging read--in a couple of days.  I also read A Leaf on the Wind of All Hallows: An Outlander Novella--in a relatively short time.  Both short; both books that were more straightforward, with less to analyze (not that I won't come back to A Leaf at some point, mind you...).  Not so, Voyager.  But the way of reading persists.

When I was rereading Outlander and Dragonfly in Amber in the small, trade paperback editions with the solid-covers of blue and orange (respectively), adorned with appropriate symbolic object, I was not making notes in the books.  I have no problem making notes in the books--except that I'm picky about what kind of pen/pencil I use, and I sometimes want to reread a book from scratch without my previous marks influencing my reading, and that the paper on which these books are printed are a little too coarse and porous to lend themselves to notes.  Okay, I have several problems with making notes in books--particularly since the advent of eReading technology.  And also, since rediscovering reading like a reader instead of reading like a critic, I have actually stopped reading with my pen. It's sort of liberating.   However, it wasn't a conscious decision not to mark the books.  It just happened that way.

So while reading Outlander and Dragonfly, I would read the book.  When I came to a scene that I wanted to blog, I would either type the passage as a draft post right then and there, or I would remember it for later, or I would stop reading until I felt like coming back to blog about it, or I would use the Blogger app on my iPod to enter some basic info--page numbers and a title at the least, but sometimes I also included a note or two of what I wanted to say about the passage in question.  I frequently had several minimal draft posts on the go at the same time, and I would come back to them at leisure.  But what happened was that the knowledge that I had 4 or so draft posts to work on would halt my reading.  I couldn't go on until I cleared the cache, so to speak.  It was an interesting phenomenon.

So what is different with Voyager?  One of the greatest features of the Kindle (and assorted eReaders) is the ability to highlight and make notes.  I personally wish that it would allow me to export my notes more easily.  I can post them to Facebook, but that's not what I want to do.  I would love for it to export to Blogger, or to send it to my email.  So what I've been doing is, instead of posting to Blogger--actually typing in the text as I come to it--I've been highlighting my Kindle version.  This saves the text for later, but without the same pressure of the draft posts.  It works out very nicely, because I can then use my Mac version of the Kindle Reader to review my highlights and copy the text from the eBook into Blogger.  The Kindle Cloud Reader for Chrome doesn't have this capability, but the one for Mac OS does.  Go figure.  (See Kindle Reading Apps here.  No, Amazon isn't paying me anything.)

The highlighting feature also allows me to make notes and highlight text indiscriminately.  The thought process that went into choosing what would make a good analysis is not quite present--the selection process is reserved for when I start writing, instead of taking place as I decide whether analysis of this or that particular passage is worth the effort of typing it into the computer or--horrors!--the iPod.  (Not iPAD--iPOD!  Translation: very tiny touchscreen.)  So I have a number of collected ideas, notes, and highlights.  I just haven't gotten around to applying the filter and deciding which notes are post-worthy. But I'm getting there!

So between the novel itself and the Kindle interface, I'm just sailing along.  But I've got a lot in the pipeline that I'll be rolling out soon!