Dick is okay

I’m not entirely sure if I like Dick or not. I certainly enjoyed it. It made me laugh and it also made me sad, just like any good book should do. Chris Kraus’ book I Love Dick will undoubtedly attract a few inquisitive stares if you decide to read it on public transport. However there were certainly a few ideas surrounding the premise of Kraus’ book that I am uncomfortable with. Kraus’ provocatively named  book I Love Dick has been labelled a feminist cult classic among other things. When books are labelled feminist, or a modern classic, it is difficult to disagree with them. The initial post I wrote about this book discussed how this book ‘flags up some rather serious feminist issues’, and while it does makes some very important points about the treatment of female desire as an alien premise which should be treated with disgust, you could also certainly argue that it glamorises adultery, stalking and obsessive love. This book was certainly enjoyable, KrDickaus has a refreshingly easy to read writing style, which frequently made me laugh out loud, and you cannot deny that you truly empathise for her, suffering one cruel rejection from Dick after another. It is a bizarre and intriguing case study: a married woman whose crush on another man develops into an obsessive infatuation, which her husband also becomes directly involved with. Dick becomes not just a person later on in the novel but Dick becomes a metaphor for Kraus’ relationship with dick, and through her obsession she analyses her relationships with men. This novel is not empowering to Kraus, it recognises the issues with her own desire, but throughout she is subject to psychological torment, as she desires the man who will only reject her. I disagree entirely that all women oppress themselves by having relationships with men, which is what this novel seems to suggest, as even her relationship with Sylvère, her husband, appeared destructive in this novel.  I view this book as This book makes a fascinating read, and I found myself absorbed between its pages for hours on end. But I was left asking myself if I was a bad feminist for disagreeing with the premise of the book I have come to the conclusion that this is a book in which Kraus comes to terms with her own issues with men, rather than representative of every heterosexual relationship. But one thing is for sure, I’m certainly still thinking about Dick.

 

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