Top of the food chain, Ma!

So I’m browsing Wikipedia for Watership Down stuff the other evening, my recent purchase having rekindled my interest in all things Lapine, and discovered…

…Right, let’s preface this by noting that I am not the world’s most PC person. I don’t – even above the clear religious scruple – like to hurt people, with words or anything else; but I also firmly believe in flattering intelligence and experience, not insulting either with obvious evasions.

Thusly it’s just possible I am over-reacting to the one paragraph in the Wiki article that details the severe critical backlash the novel received on feminist grounds. That is, there are those female critics who take issue with the fact that the story’s protagonists are exclusively buck rabbits, who are perhaps something less than tactful (‘Is she any good [for breeding]?’) in their quest to secure does to their warren.

Yeah. Didn’t think so.

I spent the entire afternoon composing a long, ranty, over-the-top post re: how this criticism rests on a highly selective reading of the source (in which various other passages show doe rabbits as strong, intelligent and capable), how absurd it is to tie sociological conditioning that closely to what is patently a fantasy tale, and above all how utterly, unbelievably, how-hard-up-for-a-thesis-can-you-be STUPID it is to apply those same standards to characters who aren’t even capable of recognising the need for conditioning in the first place. Y’know, their being frelling BUNNIES and all.

Then…I started picturing those same bunnies learnedly discussing ‘gender identity’ and burrows with ‘glass ceilings’, and it made me feel much, much better. ‘Specially the part where they were wearing little wire-rimmed bifocals.

So instead…pretty pictures!


Dust in the wind

Being a young, single Jehovah’s Witness in the big city can be a…fraught experience, at times. Especially when the need to unwind strikes on a Friday night.
It helps of course that I don’t drink by choice, not by religious proscription; also, that I’m really not all that social an animal to begin with. Since I was a small child it has always seemed to me that there were more interesting things to do than actively seek the company of people – not cynicism, you understand, merely contented introversion. My friends tend to be those who understand this POV, and even share it to some extent.

Thus it is that my resourceful inner self and I have developed a compromise: each Friday night we seek out those more interesting things – new things, or things we know and love but simply haven’t had the time to think of lately. We hike wherever our feet feel like going, heedless of time. Could be around nearby Leaside, or the Danforth, or Eglinton West, poking in stores and people-watching and just generally obeying the impulse of the moment. Sometimes Shoemom comes along, and those are good times, because her idea of an urban hike inevitably involves a good gossip and a stop at a favourite coffee shop.

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