This is not a rant, I promise

Possibly, this whole post was partially
inspired by my wordless fury about the
  the  The Bell Jar's  new cover
art-- yes, a woman applying lipstick.
How's that for feminism, America?

Yesterday, I read Atonement, by Ian McEwan. Although I admit it's not the sort of book I usually read,  I attmepted to begin it with an open mind, as it was highly recommended by a friend.

A book hasn't made me this angry in a long, long time.

However, as I hate ranting over the internet, I'll attempt to remain civilized. This is going to be difficult, I'll admit. Below, I'll include my main grievances-- not against Ian McEwan in particular, but against all authors (think Lev Grossman, Stieg Larsson &c.) who have committed this particular crime-- in a numbered list,in hopes that it will lend me an air of impartiality.

First, I feel the need to establish that books about rape are important. This is not an opinion, but a statement of fact. One in four women are victims of an attempted or completed sexual assault, and a scarce 5% of rapists are ever convicted. Clearly, a dialogue needs to be established about rape culture, about sexual violence, about the manner in which we treat rape victims. Though I admit I don't much enjoy reading about said issues, I think it absolutely crucial that books address them. Some books do so very well, with both sympathy and with an understanding of the inherent brutality involved. Others, not so much. Can you guess which sort I'll be discussing today?

Secondly, narratives-- whether fictional or non-fictional--provide perhaps on of the best medium to discuss rape. I could list countless statistics about rape's prevalence and effects, but nothing would convince readers of the horrors involved like testimonies from families and victims. So yes, write about rape. Talk about rape. Establish a dialogue about rape. Do it well enough, and perhaps the world will finally listen.

Inspired by the new Bell Jar cover,
annoyed readers have been
creating their own modern
interpretations of various classics.

But do not, ever, EVER, use rape as an gratuitous, throwaway plot device. Do not fetishize it. Do not construct a minor character for the sole purpose of being raped. Do not write a rape scene simply to lend ethos to your female characters-- because that's the absolute worst thing that can happen to a woman, right? Because a woman substantiates a combination of parts to be violated?

I'm sorry, I said I wouldn't rant. Beginning again.
 
In McEwan's Atonement, a female character--or rather, a caricature of a female character-- is introduced simply, given a name and a few defining attributes. In the most cursory of sketches, McEwan informs his readers that she is manipulative, sexually precocious and attention-seeking, generally unpleasant to all familiar with her. She is then raped, so that the book's central characters-- a pair of lovers, of course-- can be tragically separated.



Here's another, quite the parody of the sort
of cover art meant to appeal to a female
audience.

Immediately afterward, she is carted offscreen like a used stage prop, not appearing again until the book's last few pages. She existed solely to be raped, and had no additional narrative purpose.

When feminists throw around the phrase "rape culture"-- an ubiquitous term, almost a buzz-word,  long stripped of meaning by
overuse-- they are often referring to rap songs or tabloids or beauty pageants, and not best-selling, award-winning novels.

Perhaps that needs to change.