review: wasted

Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Marya Hornbacher is an amazing read. I (thankfully) have never struggled with an eating disorder, yet I found this memoir completely engrossing. This book has shown me how easily things could have been different had I made just one or two different decisions: Eating disorders are sneaky, long, dark, slippery slopes. Hornbacher very skillfully conveys that frightening message.

I had always been of the opinion that anorexia and bulimia are bizarre, inexplicable behaviors. As you may know, I love me some food. After reading this, however, I can totally see how an intelligent, beautiful, and healthy young woman could just begin to inexplicably self-destruct. That's what makes Hornbacher such a brilliant writer; she makes you relate to her. She doesn't only tell you her story, she sheds light on the devastating social phenomena and helps you understands the psychological roots.

Here's an excerpt, courtesy of the publisher's website:

The bragging was the worst. I hear this in schools all over the country, in cafés and restaurants, in bars, on the Internet, for Pete's sake, on buses, on sidewalks: Women yammering about how little they eat. Oh, I'm Starving, I haven't eaten all day, I think I'll have a great big piece of lettuce, I'm not hungry, I don't like to eat in the morning (in the afternoon, in the evening, on Tuesdays, when my nails aren't painted, when my shin hurts, when it's raining, when it's sunny, on national holidays, after or before 2 A.M.). I heard it in the hospital, that terrible ironic whine from the chapped lips of women starving to death, But I'm not hun-greeee. To hear women tell it, we're never hungry. We live on little Ms. Pac-Man power pellets. Food makes us queasy, food makes us itchy, food is too messy, all I really like to eat is celery. To hear women tell it we're ethereal beings who eat with the greatest distaste, scraping scraps of food between our teeth with our upper lips curled.

For your edification, it's bullshit.

...We lived in a larger world where there is also a sense of hunger and of a lack. We can call it loss of religion, loss of the nuclear family, loss of community, but whatever it is, it has created a deep and insatiable hunger in our collective unconscious. Our perpetual search for something that will be big enough to fill us has led us to a strange idolatry of at once consumption and starvation.We execute "complicated vacillations...between self-worship and self-degradation," the pendulum swinging back and forth, missing the point of balance every time. We know we need, and so we acquire and acquire and eat and eat, past the point of bodily fullness, trying to sate a greater need. Ashamed of this, we turn skeletons into goddesses and look to them as if they might teach us how to not-need.

I'm fond of this memoir primarily for it's valuable social/feminist commentary. It's also a very effective cautionary tale. Hornbacher warns the reader that an eating disorder, like any other kind of addiction, is never something you can completely get over. And, for people like me who had never really spent a lot of time thinking about body image issues in the modern age, it's eye-opening.

Stay healthy and beautiful, girls.

review: sin in the second city

Sin and the Second City: Madams, Ministers, Playboys, and the Battle for America's Soul, Karen Abbot's book about Chicago's vice district, is the kind of history more people should be reading.

She tells the story of the Everleigh sisters, two of the most successful and notorious madams in the history of the U.S. Their Everleigh Club drew city officials, gamblers, aristocrats, academics, and just about everyone else. The Everleigh girls, who included such characters as Doll, Brick Top, and Diamond Bertha, were unique because they were generally very healthy, happy, and independent. They could recite poetry, talk about the philosophy of Balzac, play the piano, and be 'courtesans' in the full sense of the word as opposed to just...ahem...you-know-whatting. The Everleighs took great pains to educate them and keep them safe.
 But there was plenty of debauchery and straight-up weirdness too: opium eating, devouring raw meat for the pleasure of the customers, and serving champagne in the girls' shoes.

Minna Everleigh

And the madams themselves were quite fascinating: They were resourceful at best, liars at worst. They never really got their stories straight on who they were or where they came from. They were masters of constant reinvention - Something I, too, aspire to be. (But perhaps more like Madonna and less like early 20th century brothel keepers. But I haven't ruled out all my options just yet.) They also held their own against political bosses and jealous, conniving rivals. They were two tough cookies and fun to read about.

Abbot also sheds light on the other side of the culture: The evangelists, reformers, prohibitionists, and others who dedicated their lives to breaking up the party. The Everleigh Club, being the most fashionable, popular, and sought-after, naturally became their primary target. Lammmmeeee. Abbot spends about half the book discussing these characters, too - which I, naturally, found much less interesting. I definitely would've been hanging out with the Everleighs instead of holding some sort of revival on the street outside. So I didn't find reading about these party-poopers very entertaining. But it did provide an interesting contrast to the wild & colorful Everleigh Club.

So, in short, I really enjoyed this book. It was great history: equal parts depravity and moralizing. If you have any interest in turn-of-the-century America, or want a how-to manual on how to be a successful madam, I totally recommend.