In Defense of Rory Gilmore

gilmore-girls-netflix-revival-rory

Alexis Bledel as ‘Rory Gilmore’ in “Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life”; photo taken from Hypable 

I wrote the following after seeing multiple posts on blogs, Tumblr, and legitimate news sites basically slut shaming Rory Gilmore in “Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life” for decisions she makes regarding men.  Some of it isn’t actually slut shaming, some of it is simply die-hard fans who, like me, have probably watched the original series many times and have a romanticized idea of what Rory is like and how she should behave; they are disappointed, these fans, that thirty year old Rory isn’t making the same decisions as twenty year old Rory.

I think there are many factors to consider before judging Rory too harshly.

First of all: it’s been ten years.  No one dates exactly the same way they did ten years ago.  She’s in her thirties now, she’s less inhibited, less shy, more open to experiences.  As humans grow, we change, see things differently.  Rory is going to have a different mindset at 32 than she did when she was nineteen.

Secondly: We don’t know what her dating experience has been since leaving college.  Previous relationships have a great affect on how a person treats future romantic partners.  It’s possible she’s had one too many terrible boyfriends since Logan.  Also: Rory’s a bit of a nomad, it’s difficult to maintain exclusive relationships when you’re constantly moving.  Believe me, I know.

Thirdly: As a person ages, she becomes less idealistic.  Young people often have a rigid sense of morality, Rory certainly did.  This is why kids will often (foolishly) write off friends for not meeting a certain moral standard (see Veronica Mars).  But as we age and mature, we realize there’s a lot of gray in the world, and we are not the ultimate voice of right and wrong in the universe.  So we sleep with that guy we met at that party, and we drink the tequila, and drive to NYC to watch an SNL rehearsal and get a hot dog just to turn around and drive home again the same day.

Fourth: People also become less optimistic.  Which seems strange considering people become less cynical (unless you’re Louis C.K., or a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker) as they get older, but when it comes to relationships and dating, single, straight, American women seem to become more pessimistic about relationships.  Consider this Garfunkel and Oates song.

Fifth: We don’t know what sort of relationship Logan has with this French woman.  Maybe it’s an open relationship?  Maybe he has the same deal with her as he has with Rory?  The French are way less puritanical about sex than Americans.

We, especially those of us who grew up alongside Rory, want her to be a sort of moral beacon since she’s just like us only better, but really she’s not.  Rory is just as flaky as we are, she’s just as confused, just as meandering, just as flawed.  She is searching for her place in the world the same way we are.

And, as with all things, the viewer brings his or her own experience to the story.  All my girlfriends who are married, engaged, or in long term relationships had the same reaction: “Rory has had ample time to find someone new, loving, and stable, why is she back with old boyfriends and making these decisions?”  While all my fellow single girlfriends in their early thirties looked at Rory and said: “Yeah, nope, that’s exactly right!”

This post is edited slightly from the original post on Tumblr.

This Holiday Season I am Grateful for: Library Book Club

Or, that time I crashed the Library Book Club Social Hour.

My sister loves reading.  She loves reading in the nicest, purest, most normal way possible.  People of my generation, you, me, lovely book bloggers on the Internet, we love to read in this weird, exhibitionist sort of way: we take pictures of our bookshelves and post them online, we Instagram the books we’re reading, we write essays and post them on our blogs about the books we’ve read, we keep digital lists of the books we’ve read this year, we buy tee shirts with book covers on them, and artistic prints made from the entire text of a beloved novel.  Let’s face it, we are a lovely group of weirdos.  We are over the top in our expression of love for reading, our love for books, storyline, and plot.

My sister, however, is the Unexpected Reader.  Just by looking at her, talking to her, following her social media one wouldn’t think she devours stories, it certainly might surprise some people who know her very well, but she loves books.  And she recently chanced her arm at the public library’s Book Club.  I was flooded with texts about how much fun it was discussing a book with a group of people, how someone told her they were glad she came, that the group needs more “young people”, she saw people there she hasn’t seen in years!  She went back the next month.  I was super proud of her.

December, there was no book.  Instead the book clubbers had a social gathering scheduled.  Even though I’d never been before, my sister invited me and I’m so glad I went.  The woman who runs the book club brought snacks, coffee, tea, and had a fun (nerdy) activity planned for the book clubbers.  She selected newly acquired books from this year, wrapped them in fun paper and wrote their genre on the paper.  She had us each select a couple of books and we went around the circle unwrapping and sharing the book description.  We got a little silly, well, a reserved silly since we didn’t all know each other, and had fun discussing what we thought of the book based on the description.  We chatted a little bit about the ones we knew more about (I had just read about Welcome to Night Vale and what book did I pull?).  Overall, it was a lot of fun.

My sister checked out the book club book for January and we’re planning on both reading it so we can both attend the January meeting (assuming I’m still in the area then).  I am ever so grateful that a) the library has a book club, b) my sister was brave enough to go on her own, and c) she invited me to the party and got me interested.  I’m always complaining that since I left college I have no one to talk books with, and, yet, every month there’s a group of people gathering across town talking books!

I am not your Manic Pixie Bookworm | Kaite Welsh | Huffington Post.

I am not your Manic Pixie Bookworm | Kaite Welsh | Huffington Post.

I wrote this earlier today on Literary Bex (the Tumblr), and decided it is also appropriate here as Literary Bex (the WordPress) is meant to be about writing, and to be a place to write things I feel strongly about that aren’t strictly books.

Being a reader is super weird when it comes to dating, she is not wrong. I have had men either really want to delve into my reading life and become a part of it, or they are overwhelmingly terrified of me because I have a larger vocabulary than they. Either way, both find it sexy that I am “a reader” but, like Welsh says, either way they are objectifying my intellect rather than just appreciating my intelligence. Welsh writes, “I don’t need a prize to congratulate me for doing something I learned when I was four.” That prize certainly isn’t going to be a man who desires only for a girl who can carry a conversation, not a woman with whom to share his life.

The fact that we read isn’t cute; it isn’t sweet; and it certainly isn’t adorable. There are girls across the WORLD who are never given the opportunity to even learn how to read. Their only function in life is to clean, cook, and bear their husband’s babies (preferably boys). They are not even considered people. The irony being, those who get the hots for a girl solely because she reads are also not seeing those women as people. Objectifying “reading” takes away it’s power. Being able to read is the difference between autonomy and disenfranchisement (i.e., American slavery). A woman with the ability to read is potential powerful. If she can read, she has the opportunity to know what is going on in the world; she has the opportunity to better understand her world. A girl who can read has the potential to affect change in her community. She can read policy. She can read laws. She can discuss with others what she has learned from her reading. She can understand injustices. Because she can read, she has the opportunity to do something about it.

Reading might be sexy; because reading means a person is curious and therefore thinks. But reading is so much more than that. Reading is power. Reading is powerful. Reading is empowering. Because I was taught my letters and subsequently encouraged to read, I know that I am more than a symbol. I know that I am more than a stereotype. I know that I am important because I am a Person. I will continue to read, a skill I was taught at age four, so my mind stays sharp, so I can continue to learn about my world, so I can best understand what I can do to change the injustices I see.

I do not read to get your attention. I do not read to get fucked. If I did I would just get fucked over. Because I read, I know what I want from my partner, I know what I want from my life.  And I do not want someone who will fuck me over.

I read for me. I write for me. I do not do these things for you.

I think I need to stop “Following” some Tumblr book blogs.*

Maybe because I’m currently a little grouchy, maybe because many of the writers I read are already dead, maybe because I’m years older than some of these bloggers: I’m getting a little tired of the sentiment of wanting to be best friends with beloved authors.

In this age of global communication, we can read author’s blogs, we can follow their activities on Facebook, we can send them tweets (twats? twits?) given they are on Twitter, and they have the option to respond to us.  If the author does respond, the person is likely to remember this event for years to come, but the author?  Unlikely.  (This gives the semblance of communication.)

When I read a book, a novel, a poem, and it moves me beyond words, I don’t hero worship the person who wrote it (unless its Agatha Christie); I don’t want this person to be my best friend.  We might be in agreement; their words might validate my own sentiments, beliefs, or feelings; they may have taught me something new about the world and myself, but I’m not going to talk about the author as something he or she isn’t.

And it’s weird and wearisome to read what these girls write about their lurve for J.K. Rowling and John Green and how they all seem to want Neil Gaiman to be their surrogate father.**  That being said: I think its wonderful to interact with authors, I think it’s great that Neil Gaiman takes time to respond to some of the questions he gets asked on Tumblr, but the over-the-top adoration is a mite trying to read so often.

And I’ve been tongue tied when speaking with an author; I’ve been to readings; I would love to have tea with David Sedaris, or a stiff drink with Chelsea Handler; and I think John Green and I could have some delightfully sarcastic conversations about things we both love or hate.***  And I don’t want to begrudge these readers their love for these authors, I just don’t want to read about their lurve for these authors quite so often.

*Sorry if this is bitchy.

**I have the utmost respect for everyone mentioned in this post.

***I would love to create a world with Neil Gaiman one day.