Bulgarian feminist literature

Petia from openlyfeminist has posted a very interesting post about the work of Prof. Milena Kirova. Prof. Kirova has just published a new book discussing the paucity of women writers included in the canon of Bulgarian literature.

Indeed, I remember almost no female writers discussed in school, up to high school that is. There’s a poet named Elisaveta Bagryana; one or two of her poems were included in textbooks, although I don’t remember a deep discussion of them. I remember a few children’s stories by a writer named Dora Gabe. However, we never talked about children’s tales as serious literature. (What is the so-called serious literature, anyway?). It was years later when I discovered Dora Gabe’s excellent poetry. It’s ironic that this happened while I was in Madison, checking out a book of her poems from a foreign library.

The comments on Petia’s blog led me to consider some other aspects of the issue. I was wondering about the merits of  sexist authors’ writing. Can a truly sexist author be great and to what extent. Obviously there’s a time issue here. Societal norms were very different before the advent of feminism, and authors are products of their environment. What about modern writers, however. Is a writer’s sexism always detectable in his/her writing? (Women can also hold sexist views, I believe.) If so, how much would it mar our enjoyment of the work?

For instance, this summer I finished “The Turn of the Screw” and “The Aspern Papers” by Henry James. Truly, his prose is good. However, I often felt nonplussed by his female characters. They seemed so hidebound following such patriarchal and class norms that it was hard for me to relate to them. It was quite baffling to me, as a reader, to comprehend their passivity and timidity. In the “The Turn” the governess wouldn’t simply confront her charge, a boy, no older than 15, it seems, but would instead try and with “female intuition” (ha!) attempt to surmise it. All of this, it seems stems from her acute perception of herself as subordinate to him. He is her master; she is ultimately at his disposal.  So the portrayals of the women in the novella I found puzzling and, consequently, my enjoyment of James’s writing was spoiled.

Perhaps we also need to see a feminist reading of the works in the Bulgarian literary canon, one that isn’t only available as a specialist course in college, but is also to high school students. Most of the classics taught in schools here are steeped in our own patriarchal tradition. I think it would be both fascinating and instructive to examine this through a feminist glasses. Too often, teachers present these works as portrayals of timeless Bulgarian values, as tidy tableaux of characters we should all imitate. Does that mean that patriarchy is an intrinsically, hence timeless, Bulgarian value? What should schoolgirls aspire to? To become a man’s satellite? (In Bulgaria a women are often called спътници (sputnitsi) of men, a word which means both “co-traveler” and “satellite”. Men are very rarely women’s sputnitsi.)

While we are talking about representation, I haven’t noticed any major literary works including any mention of queer characters, be it negative or positive, nor are there many queer authors. I’ve only heard of two gay poets. One lived during the first half of the 20th century and is now almost forgotten. Тhe other one’s Nikolay Atanosov, a young Bulgarian poet. Perhaps, I’ve read other gay poets, but had no idea of their sexuality. This only proves my point about the effacement of the queer from Bulgarian literature. For example, Atanosov alludes to Nikolay Liliev’s sexuality, him being a well-respect Bulgarian poet. I’d really like to see a more open discussion of these issues.

So these are my thoughts. If you know Bulgarian, go read Petia’s post. Actually, just read her blogs. They are worth it.

Advertisement