C 2005) Archives of Sexual Behavior, Vol. 34, No. 5, October 2005, pp. 583–593 (
DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6284-7

Book Reviews An Interpretation of Desire: Essays in the Study of Sexuality. By John H. Gagnon. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois, 2004, 336 pp., $65.00 (hardback); $22.50 (paperback).

this selection to an audience: “This version will be full of denied absences and illusory presences, of voices strangled and ventriloquism practiced; it will add up to truths and fancies masquerading as each other” (p. 1). One can read the choice of the autobiographical essay to open the book as a scientific statement: the practice of science is embedded in the personal life of the researcher. The last chapter of the book is the transcript of a 1998 interview of Gagnon by Schmidt on the shore of the Lago di Guardia in Italy during a meeting of the International Academy of Sex Research. Conversation is also an important part of the production of science, and Gagnon was extremely lucky in this regard to have had an intense and long term collaboration with Bill Simon, who died in 2000, and with whom he elaborated the theory of the sexual script. Between the more autobiographical prologue and the epilogue of this volume, the first part of the book provides the genealogy of the “scripting perspective in sex research.” The six papers that are reprinted represent the process of the construction of the theory. The reconsideration of the Kinsey Reports is an important step in this process, followed by a discussion of the Masters and Johnson Human Sexual Response Cycle in light of the actual interpersonal script of sexual activity and by analyses on the status of sexual science in society and its links with politics. The second part of the book demonstrates the development of a social theory in sex research built from different materials, such as HIV/AIDS epidemiology, the ethnographic observation of an AIDS conference, the analysis of the diaries of Captain Cook, and the critique of a case study of a female homosexual by Freud. One of the major contributions of Gagnon is the construction of a sociological theory of sexuality as opposed to a sociological approach to sexuality. Sociological approaches to sexuality can be seen as part of a multidisciplinary project in which different perspectives or fields (e.g., biology, psychology, sociology, ethnography, etc.) are used to analyze different aspects of the same object “sexuality,” which remains an independent and common taken-for-granted variable. The paradigm of the traditional sociological approach to sexuality is represented by the work of Kinsey, a zoologist, who measured socially determined variations (due to gender, age, education, marital status) in the accomplishment

Reviewed by Alain Giami, Ph.D.1

The arrival of this series of “essays in the study of sexuality” by Gagnon has been long awaited. During the decade of the 1990s, Gagnon became widely known for his involvement in empirical research in the field of HIV/AIDS, and his high profile participation in the National Health and Social Life Survey, perhaps better known as the “Sex in America” study (Laumann, Gagnon, Michael, & Michaels, 1994). The visibility he gained during these years may well have obscured the intellectual background and the theoretical framework on which his empirical work is based, which dates back to the 1960s. Gagnon is quite a unique character in the landscape of contemporary sex research, since he is interested and deeply involved in the production of theory–a sociological theory of sexuality–and at the same time in the production of empirical research based on systematic surveys, sociological observations, and analysis of discourse. Moreover, Gagnon has been interested, at different stages of his career, in different segments of sexual life, including sex offenders, adolescents, gays and lesbians, and pornography, as well as in the mainstream social organization of sexuality. The sum total of this work comes very close to providing a global view of contemporary sexuality in the U.S. This volume represents both a collection of theoretical essays and a personal and existential journey that took place over the last 40 years. The prologue of the book contains an autobiographical essay in which Gagnon sketches some selected aspects of his personal and professional life-course. He is conscious that writing an autobiography does not produce an account of the “real life” and experiences of an individual. Writing an autobiography is the result of a complex process of selection of events and memories through the process of remembering and decisions about how to narrate 1 INSERM-Unit´ e 569, 82, rue du G´en´eral Leclerc, F-94276 Le Kremlin-

Bicetre Cedex, France; e-mail: [email protected].

583 C 2005 Springer Science+Business Media, Inc. 0004-0002/05/1000-0583/0


584 of a biological and natural function: the total outlet. Gagnon’s sociological theory of sexuality is grounded on a different scientific conception: it deliberately ignores, and considers as external to his theory, the natural (biological) dimension of sexuality, instead considering sexuality as a sociological object defined as a scripted conduct. The sociological point of view, inspired by Symbolic Interactionism, defines what sexuality is and gives a sociological status to the so-called natural dimension of sexuality as a social construction. Thus, Gagnon proposes an important shift in the way we think about sexuality (and let us remember that the concept of “sexuality” is an invention of Western physicians and scientists during the nineteenth century). The sociological study of sexuality includes the analysis and critique of sexual knowledge from a historical and political point of view, the description and analysis of the social scripts that organize at the social, interpersonal, and intrapsychic levels the various forms of sexual conduct. In this view, sexual conduct is not simply reduced to the various bodily activities that can be performed alone or with one or more partners. Sexual conduct includes the mental activity that is related to sex “in a world that spent more time in sexual fantasy than in sexual activity” (p. 88). The work of Gagnon also represents a contribution to a theory of scientific practice. The theoretical position of Gagnon regarding sex research is quite complex. It comes from various sources, as pointed out by Escoffier in his preface, though mainly from the Chicago symbolic interactionist school of sociology. Sexual science is the result of cultural influences and, at the same time, since the publication of the Kinsey reports, itself plays a major role in mainstream sexual culture. Sexual science is one of the many discourses on sex circulating in society propagated especially through the media. It is difficult to say if it is a specific voice since, as Gagnon writes in his “Reconsideration of the Kinsey Reports” that the Kinsey Reports have shaped American sexual life by providing a new social model (banalization of homosexuality, masturbation, and pre-marital sex both for men and women), by providing a topic of everyday conversation and perhaps as well providing a kind of erotica for personal use. In developing this view, Gagnon provides both an anthropology of and a critique of social science in general, and particularly of sexual science: sexual science cannot be considered as a totally autonomous mental and social practice. It is embedded in personal fantasies and values, takes place in daily conversations, is an important part of media discourse, and contributes to the organization and orientation of individual and collective behavior. Sexual science is not located in an ivory tower.

Book Reviews This book can already be considered as a classic in the sociology of sexuality and it will be an invaluable companion for all those who are interested in sex research, whether or not they are sociologists. REFERENCE Laumann, E. O., Gagnon, J. H., Michael, R., & Michaels, S. (1994). The social organization of sexuality: Sexual practices in the United States. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6285-6

Sex Acts: Practices of Femininity and Masculinity. By Jennifer Harding. Sage Publications, Thousand Oaks, California, 1998, 154 pp., $22.95. Reviewed by Julie Askew, M.Sc.1,2 and Maureen Davey, Ph.D.1

Regardless of the political climate, sex and sexuality continue to be salient issues for researchers. However, Bancroft (2000) reminds us that the field suffers from mixed epistemologies while atheoretical approaches are used in the pursuit of the scientific method. In order to advance the understanding of human sexuality, we need to “take both biological and cultural determinants into account” (Bancroft, 2000, p. vii), and Harding’s book may be a useful starting point for those wishing to address this shortcoming in their knowledge. The aim of Harding’s book is to examine and challenge discourses of sex and sexuality using the lenses of theorists such as Foucault and Butler. This inevitably introduces the reader to a range of feminist perspectives and a strong focus on issues of gender, culture, politics, and power–the latter being the dominant theme throughout the chapters. Harding’s assumption is that sex is not natural or innate, but a result of identities that are shaped by history and culture. The extent of these influences is something she attempts to explore here. Dichotomous views are pervasive throughout the text as topics are viewed from an either/or perspective. At times this can be frustrating as Harding attempts to define issues as either essentialist or constructionist, as public or private, as male or female; perhaps the world is not always so black and white, and Harding misses the opportunity to explore some of the more interesting shades of gray that might have been found on a continuum. 1 Department

of Child and Family Development, University of Georgia, Athens, Georgia. 2 To whom correspondence should be addressed at Department of Child and Family Development, 123 Dawson Hall, University of Georgia, Athens, Georgia 30602; e-mail: Julie [email protected].

Book Reviews The first part of the book frames Harding’s intent to explore discourses of sex and sexuality, and there is a succinct introduction to the work of Foucault that helps to situate one of the main themes, that “sexuality can never be separated from power” (p. 18). The remaining six chapters are used to explore issues from this perspective in an attempt to “open up some new political ground” (p. 4). The second chapter critiques the field of sexology and scientists’ attempts to describe and explain the diversity of human sexuality. The historical influence of the field of sexology is not brought any further up to date than Masters and Johnson, which perhaps misses some of the richness of more recent developments. Harding also draws attention to the trend in sexological discourse that saw a shift away from viewing men and women as different, in preference for recognition of their sameness. This is a particularly interesting discourse to follow when considering current debates on female sexual problems. In Chapter 3, Harding explores what is considered public and private when it comes to sex. If something becomes visible, it also becomes public and, therefore, political. To be hidden is to lose power and Harding describes the role of social movements that have sought to draw attention to groups, such as racial and sexual minorities, that have historically been disempowered by their marginalized status. Chapter 4 explores how sex and sexuality are portrayed, particularly in the media. Harding questions whether the media gives or takes power, whether it reflects and describes reality, or invents its own version of it. Sexual minorities have become increasingly visible and acceptable in the mainstream media and there are some positive portrayals. Gays and lesbians on television, for example, are generally shown as being attractive, successful, and fashionable. Harding argues that how we are identified is a highly political issue. She points to the existence of homosexuality throughout history and across cultures, and the changes that resulted when it was given its own identity (as the opposite of heterosexuality and the norm) in the late 1800s. To be positioned as outside or different incites issues of power imbalance, but Harding reminds us that identity is something that is invented and therefore open to change. After this early scene setting, the remaining chapters place current issues of sex and sexuality on Harding’s theoretical framework. In light of recent developments, Chapter 5 is perhaps the more interesting as it focuses on discourses of sex hormones. New technology means hormone balances can increasingly be subjected

585 to measurement and correction, again signifying issues of normality and control. Harding describes hormones as a “major twentieth century invention” (p. 57). Since their “discovery,” sex hormones have become a primary means of controlling women’s bodies, far more than men’s, and their chemical management has led to the regulation of menstruation, fertility, and menopause (and, more recently, sexual desire). Harding highlights feminist critiques of these developments, as discourses of the female body, being in need of medical regulation in order to be normal, go largely unchallenged. Men have not been subjected to this treatment, as there was less value to be gained from controlling their fertility and menopause. A complicating factor in the defining of gender by sex hormone levels was the discovery that “male” and “female” hormones exist in both sexes. Although biological sex is relative and not subject to such clearly defined boundaries as was once thought, Harding highlights the continuing existence of dual notions of sex and gender. Chapter 6 continues the exploration of the discourses of hormones, but this time turns its attention to environmental estrogens and their effect on men. Harding discusses the dominant discourses of men’s bodies, which are predominantly of power and strength, both being productive and reproductive. However, when men’s sexual hormone levels are too “female,” this is viewed as problematic, and media reports feed the fear of feminization with stories of malformed genitalia, poor sperm counts, and a general “collapse of sexual difference” (p. 89). Chapter 7 turns our attention to the maternal body and primary discourses of sex and sexuality as they concern motherhood. New technology may have created possibilities for heterosexual couples wanting to conceive, but it has also made it easier for other kinds of family formation to exist, and these “queer families” are discussed in Chapter 8. Harding particularly focuses on lesbian couples that choose to become parents and the social discourses surrounding this issue; clearly. there is a sense of good and bad mothers, according to how far people transgress the social boundaries. The final chapter is a brief discussion of how lesbians are portrayed in popular culture. Harding draws heavily on a BBC television drama to illustrate her arguments on how constructions of lesbianism can serve to reinforce the ideal of heterosexual marriage by portraying homosexuality as “the negative counterpart to” (p. 138) and regulator of heterosexuality. Harding’s work is an easy read and may prove far more accessible as an entry point to feminist studies than the authors she refers to, such as Foucault and Butler.

586 This would prove an ideal book for undergraduates in women’s studies or for those in sex research who want an initial overview of the debates in sex and gender in order to better ground their work in theory. However, this book has tried to cover some very large and complex issues in a slim volume, and its brevity is one of its primary drawbacks. While it may provide a concise overview of some important issues, it may not be suitable for more experienced practitioners and researchers. Such readers may find these issues are addressed with more critical bite by Tiefer (1991, 1995) and in greater depth by Vance (1984).

REFERENCES Bancroft, J. (Ed.). (2000). The role of theory in sex research. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Tiefer, L. (1991). Historical, scientific, clinical and feminist criticisms of “the human sexual response cycle” model. Annual Review of Sex Research, 2, 1–23. Tiefer, L. (1995). Sex is not a natural act and other essays. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Vance, C. S. (Ed.). (1984). Pleasure and danger: Exploring female sexuality. Boston, MA: Routledge & Kegan Paul. DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6286-5

Sexual Difficulties After Traumatic Brain Injury and Ways to Deal with It. By Ronit Aloni and Shlomo Katz. Charles C Thomas, Springfield, Illinois, 2003, 207 pp., $47.95 (hardback), $30.95 (paper). Reviewed by Naomi B. McCormick, Ph.D.1

This book, by two distinguished experts on sexuality and disability, fills a critical void in the field. This is an informative, sex-positive, practical guide for helping persons with traumatic brain injury and their partners acquire or resume fulfilling sexual lives. The literature review, although brief, is thorough. Aloni and Katz have also provided a refreshing alternative to a scholarly discourse which presents brain injured persons as sexual intruders or offenders, stereotyping and problematizing the sexualities of disabled persons (cf. Bezeau, Bogod, & Mater, 2004; Lawrie & Jillings, 2004; Simpson, Blaszczynski, & Hodgkinson, 1999). With compassion and understanding, Aloni and Katz explain that the sexual problems faced by brain injured persons need to be contextualized in terms of cognitive deficits which impair social skills as well as the social stigma faced by disabled persons who are inclined to be judged as 1 Clinical

Health Psychologists, PLC, 3356 Kimball Ave., Suite 500, Waterloo, Iowa 50702; e-mail: [email protected].

Book Reviews deficient and unattractive by the able-bodied. They also rightfully point out that sexuality is an inherent component of quality of life for disabled and non-disabled persons alike (cf. McCormick, 1996), and not something that can be dismissed as inconvenient by families or medically unnecessary by health care providers and insurers. This volume is divided into two sections, the first of which provides an overview of the scientific literature on sexuality and brain injury. Chapters 1–2 summarize how traumatic brain injury (TBI) impacts upon sexuality and the effect of TBI on intimate and social relationships. Possibly because most TBI survivors are men, there is a disproportionate focus on male patients. Reflecting the bias in the literature as a whole, gay, lesbian, and bisexual TBI survivors are overlooked for the most part. In the second chapter, the authors introduce the methodology of their clinical study, which is an adjunct to their literature review. A standardized, structured questionnaire or interview was administered to convenience samples of rehabilitation professionals and eventually TBI patients and their partners. Differences in perspective between married and cohabiting TBI patients and single heterosexual persons are delineated as are the distinct priorities of newly injured TBI patients, more long-term TBI survivors, romantic partners of patients, and health care professionals providing rehabilitation. Chapter 3, which describes physical and medical aspects of sexuality after TBI, is guest-authored by Cohen, a physician. This is an enormously useful chapter which covers the diversity of problems associated with brain injury and how medications impact on sexual experience. Chapter 4 was one of my favorites, as it grounded the discussion of TBI patients in terms of what is known about normal human sexual functioning. Reduced sexual interest, not hypersexuality or loss of control, was consistently found to be more characteristic of TBI. As aptly pointed out by Aloni and Katz Often, hypersexuality is not an indication of greater sexual needs but rather a general loss of control in all areas of life, including sexuality. . . . When this behavior is exhibited . . . in a relationship, it can cause stress and shame. It usually consists of hedonistic behavior with no awareness of the needs of the other person, leading to more anger, withdrawal, and feelings of dislike. (p. 69)

Unfortunately, there are no empirically validated sex therapy techniques for this population. Therefore, Aloni and Katz rely on their ample clinical experience in designing behavioral education and group treatment programs for TBI survivors and their partners or family members in Israel. Chapter 5 introduces

Book Reviews their clinical approach, which would be useful for any cognitively disabled population. Sensitive to the cultural, religious, and developmental backgrounds of those treated, the authors clarify when intensive individual sex therapy and/or employment of a sexual surrogate is advisable. Section II describes a therapeutic and educational intervention program. This includes: training rehabilitation unit staff who receive supervision and consultation from a sex therapist (Chapter 6), intervention with patients’ partners and family members (Chapter 7), intervention with TBI patients (Chapter 8), and surrogate-assisted social skills training and sex therapy (Chapter 9). Unfortunately, the focus is exclusively on male patients who are presumably heterosexual, leading the reader to wonder about the strengths and limitations of such a program with women and a more sexually diverse patient population. A second limitation of Section II is the dull, telegraphic, writing style of Chapters 6–8, in which training and treatment programs are presented in outline form, with subtitles describing each session followed by bulleted phrases and brief sentences. I appreciated the practicality of these chapters, a veritable manual for starting and implementing sex education and therapy in an inpatient or intensive outpatient rehabilitation unit. At the same time, I found some instructions vague. For example, Session 5 in Chapter 8 describes a group therapy session on building emotional closeness to be followed by patients engaging in potentially intimate activities like writing a “love letter,” “hugging or kissing” someone, and being prepared for possible “rejection” (see p. 142). These assignments are more complicated than they seem at first glance, even for able-bodied, intellectually intact individuals. The book does not guide the reader on how to teach TBI patients which persons are appropriate targets for expressions of affection nor does it explain the subtle nuances of verbal and nonverbal interactions which convey when and how such overtures are likely to be received. As a practitioner of cognitive-behavior therapy (CBT), I have spent many frustrating hours helping intellectually intact psychotherapy patients challenge cognitive distortions related to a dire need for approval. The task is more daunting still with TBI patients, who are deficient in abstract reasoning, impulse control, memory, and social judgment. Clinicians need more information on how to help TBI survivors ferret out and change distorted beliefs about rejection. A more developed treatment plan in combination with case history and, better yet, CBT and social skills treatment outcome data, would be welcome. In illustra-

587 tion, I provide a brief case history from my own therapy practice. ZD is a middle-aged, married TBI survivor who had been an accomplished professional and manager prior to his near fatal automobile accident. He is now retired due to disability and remains at home while his wife works at the same agency he once directed. ZD frequently talks about sex at home and in therapy in inappropriate ways, to some extent as a compensation for erectile dysfunction related to health problems and medication and his own diminished sense of manhood since his injury. He frequently makes sexually offensive remarks to his wife and is pathologically jealous. Although I have repeatedly taught him simple self-calming techniques to be followed by a strategy for reassuring himself of his wife’s loyalty and have coached his wife and adult children in this approach, ZD repeatedly goes into rages about his wife allegedly having an affair with a co-worker and suggests that this loyal woman should divorce him. ZD has very poor judgment as a result of his injury with overly concrete thinking. The fact that his wife goes to work and is in contact with male co-workers is evidence enough for him that she is unfaithful. Although the family relies on her income, he insists she should quit her job and stay home if she loves him. For a patient like this, reassurance and behavior therapy alone are insufficient; the only comforting option would be to be at his wife’s side continuously. Expressing “appropriate intimate feelings” without pushing or forcing a partner to do one’s bidding is easier said than done for any patient population, especially among those who are cognitively impaired.

Chapter 9, the final and best written chapter in Section II, describes a rationale for employing female sexual surrogates in an individual therapy program for male TBI patients. This chapter explains how to select and train surrogates and the clinical and social benefits of surrogate therapy. Two case histories of TBI survivors are provided to show how surrogate therapy can be helpful to patients with minor to more serious cognitive and physical disabilities. With sophistication and sensitivity, Aloni and Katz describe how sexual surrogates, supervised by a trained sex therapist, teach TBI patients how to establish and enhance a potentially romantic relationship with either an able bodied or special needs partner. As in previous chapters, the authors also discuss how and why well-meaning family members may help or hinder a TBI survivor’s establishment of social and sexual intimacy. Another comment about Chapters 6–9 is warranted for those of us employed in treatment settings which depend upon reimbursement by private insurance companies, preferred provider organizations (PPO), and health maintenance organizations (HMO). Effective sex education and therapy for disabled persons as profiled

588 in this volume is expensive and time-consuming for rehabilitation professionals. Such a program would be unlikely to be seen as a money-maker by hospital and rehabilitation program managers and, in many cases, would be rejected as “not medically necessary.” In the U.S. at least, I’m afraid that the level of care described in this book would be denied to all but those who can afford to pay out-of-pocket. Insurers and care managers all too often limit services as to what is absolutely necessary for physical survival and basic, daily functioning For example, most insurance providers in my region won’t pay for a behavior therapy program aimed at smoking cessation although they will pay for lung surgery and some, if not most, insurers and PPOs would question sex therapy unless it is absolutely necessary to treat a patient’s debilitating depression or anxiety. All too often, quality of life is non-reimbursable and this includes, of course, patients’ sexual well-being. A modified or abbreviated sex education and treatment program for those working with TBI patients whose care is closely restricted by insurance companies, PPOs, and HMOs would be appreciated. In conclusion, this is a useful book, particularly for clinicians working in rehabilitation and health care settings. Treatment ideas will be useful for anyone who treats disabled or chronically ill persons, not just those serving TBI survivors and their families. I have three recommendations for the next edition of this book: (1) provide information on assisting TBI survivors from a more diverse population (e.g., women as well as men; lesbians, gay men, and bisexual persons—not just heterosexuals; individuals varying in religious beliefs and ethnicity); (2) test clinical ideas in research. This book has very good educational and therapy ideas, but the best possible treatment manual would describe empirically validated interventions; and (3) add a final chapter that integrates the entire book and introduces cutting-edge developments. This is missing from the current edition; the book ends abruptly after the chapter discussing the use of surrogates in treatment. REFERENCES Bezeau, S. C., Bogod, N. M., & Mateer, C. A. (2004). Sexually intrusive behavior following brain injury: Approaches to assessment and rehabilitation. Brain Injury, 18, 299–313. Lawrie, B., & Jillings, C. (2004). Assessing and addressing inappropriate sexual behavior in brain-injured clients. Rehabilitative Nursing, 29, 9–13. McCormick, N. B. (1996). Introduction. Journal of Sex Research, 33, 175–177. Simpson, G., Blaszczynski, A., & Hodgkinson, A. (1999). Sex offending as a psychosocial sequela of traumatic brain injury. Journal of Head Trauma Rehabilitation, 14, 567–580.

Book Reviews DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6287-4

Naked Barbies, Warrior Joes, & Other Forms of Visible Gender. By Jeannie Banks Thomas. University of Illinois Press, Urbana, Illinois, 2003, 216 pp., $39.95 (cloth), $21.95 (paper). Reviewed by Maude M. Adjarian, Ph.D.1

Thomas’s witty and engaging study of three-dimensional material cultural forms and the popular narratives and behaviors such forms generate offers a vision of American popular culture as a site of ongoing, but potentially transformative, struggle against received notions of gender. Part of what makes this book so thoroughly refreshing a read is the unexpected combination of forms examined: cemetery statuary, yard art figures and Barbie, Ken, and G.I. Joe dolls. Although these objects have distinct histories and uses, all three figure-types represent or reference what is ultimately at the heart of Thomas’s investigation: the relationship between gender and embodiment. The forms in this unlikely figural grouping are brought still closer together by context. All are the subject of studies Thomas undertakes in the field: her college classrooms in Indiana and Utah and sites throughout the midwestern and western United States. They are also part of Thomas’s own experience and memories, like the plastic deer she recalls seeing in a neighbor’s garden as a child. Although she did not know it at the time, it was those deer that sparked future scholarly interest in “what yard art may mean and why it is there” (p. 57). Thus, while Thomas’s figural choices may at first seem indiscriminate, the randomness is more apparent than real. Not only are they united by Thomas’s abiding concern with gender and mass-produced and popular sculptural representation in the United States, they are also united by the nature of the stories they tell and of the stories into which the author and her research informants cast them. For Naked Barbies is also the work of an able folklorist whose more general aim is to illuminate the links between mass and popular culture through words and images. What emerges in this “marriage of story and form” (p. 1), then, is an incisive collage that reveals the often contradictory attitudes Americans have toward embodied beauty, sexuality, and violence in both private and public life-domains. Thomas’s analysis moves from consideration of forms historically closer to elite culture (cemetery 1 Department

of Women’s Studies, Southwest Institute for Research on Women, University of Arizona, Tucson, Arizona 85721; e-mail: [email protected].

Book Reviews statuary) to those more closely aligned with mass and/or popular culture (yard art, Barbie, Ken, and, G.I. Joe dolls). This “top-down” approach reveals that the former figure-types are the most conservative and traditional not just in what they as objects seem to say about gender/gender roles, but also in what the stories generate about femininity and masculinity. Although contemporary cemetery statues are less prone than their predecessors to depicting women as generic and/or eroticized angels, mourners or Mary-figures, they still tend to mark females according to traditionally constructed feminine roles. Thomas describes one such grave-stone as depicting “a pleasant grandmotherly woman seated in a chair, two children on her lap” (p. 35). On the other hand, contemporary cemetery scuptural depictions of males continue a tradition that highlights individual identity as conferred through professional occupation. In other words, cemetery statues, past and present, tend to emphasize attributes of female embodiment that gesture towards the private sphere (sexuality, maternality) and attributes of male embodiment that gesture toward the public sphere (activity, individuality). The folklore or popular narratives that surround such forms do not deviate much from the intended message or pattern the statues have been created to convey. For example, the stories Thomas records her students telling about cemetery statues—the Virgin Mary-figure in an Indiana cemetery that would cry if given a quarter or the angel in an Illinois cemetery that takes the souls of those sitting her in arms at midnight—all perpetuate notions pertaining to stereotypes of female softness or capacity for destruction. Thomas clearly sees the contradictions as well as the gender-role oppositions suggested by the male and female statutes as symptomatic of “the estranging gender positions in which European and American cultures have cast women and men” (p. 55). However, despite the wealth of information she presents about the history and folklore that surround the forms she studies, Thomas leaves the implications of her analyses in suspension, never fully exploring why cemetery statues generate the most conservative narratives. Her analysis of yard art does offer a possible answer to this unanswered question. The figures that are associated with this art form, as well as the gardens in which these figures appear, both have what Banks calls a “distinguished pedigree [that] extends to the elite art of ancient times” (p. 63). Yet at the same time, most Americans are not aware of the long history behind them. What they learn and put into practice thus has much more of a folk or popular component than does cemetery statuary: individuals will do as they have learned from others. Perhaps it is this relative freedom from larger, overarching

589 past traditions that explains the variety and playfulness of yard art forms that range from gendered animals to gnomes and dwarves to human figures. Within the space of the yard itself, where distinctions between personal and public blur, Thomas shows how yard art becomes a vehicle that people use to alter (mass-produced) forms to challenge—in humorous, non-threatening ways—gender conventions and stereotypes. Thus, when women dress goose statues in bikinis, they poke fun at traditional conceptions of female beauty and of the erotic; similarly, when they dress those same statues in ties or sporting outfits, they render masculinity and the male body softer and more gentle in accordance with individual (female) desire rather than social or cultural tradition. As thus “comfort art” (p. 111), three-dimensional yard figures nurture not just the imagination, but also real adult women and men living in a world that defines individuals according to highly restrictive gender roles. Thomas then examines how female and male embodiment is rendered in dolls—specifically, the Mattel Corporation’s Barbie and Ken and Hasbro’s G.I. Joe. She demonstrates that all three figures, though very much the product of mass culture, communicate gender messages similar to those conveyed by the one art form Thomas studies that is most directly linked to elite culture—cemetery statuary. With her curved and impossibly proportioned body, Barbie would seem to epitomize traditional (Western) notions of women as erotic private sphere objects. With their strong and— especially in G.I. Joe’s case—well-muscled physiques and de-emphasized genital sexuality, Ken and G.I. Joe would seem to epitomize traditional (Western) notions of men as active—but largely sexless—public sphere subjects. Yet as Thomas shows, the situation is much more complex than would appear, especially where Barbie is concerned. To begin, and especially in the Barbie/Ken pairing, it is Barbie who has the more defined identity: Ken is merely her “accessory” (p. 116). However, that identity is largely based upon bodily features rather than on her many personal/professional incarnations. Thus, while children of both sexes can and do use Barbie to enact an endless variety of fantasy and/or real-world scenarios, the problem of her body—specifically, the message it sends children about what constitutes “proper” female proportions or beauty—persists. This is unlike either Ken or G.I. Joe dolls, both of which reference male sexuality only through what Thomas calls genital “bumps” (p. 116). Thomas also shows both male dolls as inspiring a range of play activity in boys (and some girls) that is much more limited than Barbie and typically revolves around scenarios involving some form of violence or war-play.

590 Not surprisingly, it is the more controversial Barbie, with her highly sexualized body-features, that has generated the most cultural response. The discourse surrounding her takes the form of parental and scholarly critiques directed at the manufacturers as well as more popular parodic narratives, such as the Internet “e-lore” that re-visions the standard Barbie as Bulimorexia Barbie, Dinner-Roll (overweight) Barbie, Lesbian Barbie, and so on. It is this discourse, Thomas suggests, that has helped to bring change to the doll industry, a change embodied in Real-Girl action figures. The brainchild of a former Mattel employee, these dolls are not nearly as popular as Barbie; yet, the fact that they were produced for mass consumption is still significant. Truer to real female body configurations than Barbie dolls, Real-Girls would appear to promote the socially progressive notion of women and girls as active and self-defining. Their presence on the market would also seem to suggest that popular cultural responses do have some power to shape mass production. Yet, at the same time, the changes affect only female dollbody renderings and not male ones. Where gender issues are concerned, such developments (or lack thereof) would seem to indicate that while it may now be more culturally acceptable for females to be and be seen/depicted as more autonomous and less bound to what Wolf (2002) might call “the beauty myth,” it is still not acceptable for males to be seen/depicted as softer and more vulnerable. The concentrated nature of Thomas’s gender-focus throughout Naked Barbies is the book’s greatest strength and perhaps the source of its weaknesses as well. Her otherwise thorough analyses do not consider to any depth the ways gender might intersect with race/ethnicity and class and what such intersections might further reveal about the forms and folk-narratives and behaviors she studies. For example, cemetery statues derive from an elite (white) western tradition; yet, Thomas never examines the way race/ethnicity or class might affect what gets depicted on/through such statuary. And while she does discuss an Asian-American and a Latino artist in her chapter on yard art, Thomas considers race/ethnicity in the former’s work briefly and only when his work most obviously critiques American mass-production of race as Anglo. Where the latter artist is concerned, Thomas does not consider race/ethnicity at all. In her chapter on “Barbie and her consorts,” Thomas does include data gathered from women and men of different racial/ethnic groups, but offers only limited analysis of how race/ethnicity and class play into the various conceptions of Barbie or into mass cultural response to those conceptions. Despite its gaps and omissions, however, this volume is still a very useful study both in itself and in how it offers a starting point for further research on the way gender is

Book Reviews inflected by race and class in three-dimensional cultural forms. It is a book that reminds the reader of the power of popular culture but also of the power of history and tradition. Where representations of human embodiment are concerned, until male bodies can be rendered/seen as malleable—and as vulnerable—as women’s bodies traditionally been, then the tale material objects of culture will tell will differ from each other primarily in terms of context rather than content. Cultural expectations of gender and how those expectations are encoded in three-dimensional forms might help to explain certain social patterns. Banks suggests that crime is not only gendered; it is also quite likely that “cultural gender ideals and behavior help shape what types of crime are committed and by whom” (p. 190). Thus: if culture, especially American culture, offers up a warrior ideal to men and a beauty ideal (or myth as Naomi Wolf would say) to women, then this would explain why, according to the crime statistics Banks cites, men commit 80% and more of all violent crime while women tend to commit petty-theft crimes such as shoplifting that involve “symbols of adult female identity—cosmetics, jewelry and sexy underwear” (p. 190).

REFERENCE Wolf, N. (2002). The beauty myth: How images of beauty are used against women. New York: Perennial. DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6288-3

The Rise and Fall of Gay Culture. By Daniel Harris. Hyperion, New York, 1997, 278 pp., $24.95. Reviewed by Todd G. Morrison, Ph.D.1

This book is a provocative and sardonic examination of what it means to be a homosexual male in contemporary Western society. In exploring this issue, Harris raises a number of important questions. For instance, aside from sexual object choice, are there identifiable differences between gay men and their heterosexual counterparts? Is there a “gay sensibility” and, if so, what are its defining elements? What are the consequences of mainstream (read: heterosexual) society’s co-optation of gay men and lesbian women? More specifically, what price do homosexual individuals pay for greater social acceptance? Harris’s answer to these sorts of questions reflects his belief that the maintenance of a vibrant gay culture 1 Department

of Psychology, National University of Ireland, Galway, Ireland; e-mail: [email protected].

Book Reviews and the occurrence of assimilation cannot harmoniously co-exist. The end of oppression necessitates the end of gay sensibility. When gay men no longer feel degraded and insecure and, therefore, driven to prove their worth to the heterosexual mainstream, they will cease using culture as a means of achieving social prestige. In other words, the heightened acceptance of homosexual men in contemporary society is having a “ruinous impact on [this group] as a minority” (p. 271); it is responsible for that “inevitable tragedy” (p. 271)—the demise of gay culture. To provide “evidence” of the culture’s disintegration, Harris examines, among other things, the “death of camp”; the “heterosexualizing” of gay love, as evident in personal advertisements; the emergence of vacuous gay magazines, which are characterized by a love of celebrity and eschewal of anything reflecting the “illicitness of gay culture”; and the “kitschification” of AIDS. The variety of topics explored by Harris underscores an important limitation of this book. Despite being the focal point of his analysis, Harris fails to particularize what he means by the term gay culture. Is it gay consumerism, rejection of “mainstream” values, or knowledge of minutia about motion pictures? Perhaps stemming from the imprecision accorded this term, Harris examines a hodgepodge of topics yet doesn’t identify the linkages among them or the ways these elements of culture are necessarily endemic to gay men. Moreover, as the emergence of some of these cultural products was contingent upon greater “social acceptance,” their manufacture and success (in commercial terms) challenges Harris’s argument that gay culture is vanishing. While the topics examined may be multifarious, Harris’s perception of gay men as a social category is alarmingly homogeneous. The men he describes are “affluent” and have relationships similar to “corporate mergers” in which “two gym-toned yuppies” open joint bank accounts, set up housekeeping in gentrified “fixits,” entertain lavishly, and embroider their hyphenated monograms on “his and his” towels. Gay men have “fled from the desolate provinces and migrated to congested urban ghettoes where [they] clog the streets in leather chaps and spandex shorts” (pp. 58–59). They flock to “art schools, the stage, the concert hall, [and] the opera house” (p. 270); share a “set of defining tastes in art, decoration, and music” (p. 60); possess “deodorized bodies” (p. 91); and “douse themselves with expensive colognes, and style their hair with mousses and gels” (p. 91). Although Harris has somehow managed the enviable feat of retaining his individuality while being homosexual, the archetypal gay male is best described as an “age-obsessed queen with a subscription to House Beautiful and a Japanese tea

591 garden” (p. 108). Would Harris be comfortable making the same sweeping generalizations about other ethnic groups? Does he really believe that the experiences of a gay male living in a small rural community in the midwestern United States are similar to those of a gay male residing in San Francisco or New York City? Harris’s elision of gay men who remain in the “desolate provinces” and do not migrate to gay ghettoes may explain his overly optimistic view of heterosexuals’ acceptance of gay men and lesbian women. Despite his reassurance that “homosexuals [are] being accepted so quickly by the general public,” (a statement which he subsequently contradicts on p. 76), current social scientific research indicates that homonegativity remains a vital force in contemporary Western society (Morrison & Morrison, 2002). Harris implies that the assimilation of gay culture is a fait accompli; however, in actuality, it is far from being finished. Many gay men and lesbian women remain fearful; many still live in the shadows. The vitriol that suffuses much of Harris’s writing constitutes another limitation of this volume. Although some passages are amusing, there are many instances where Harris’s caustic descriptions are unnecessary; where they transcend wit and move into the realm of peevishness. For example, does he really need to state that (bodybuilders) Bob and Rod-Jackson Paris couldn’t eat their romantic candlelit dinner because “both were on starvation diets to preserve their hourglass figures” (p. 266)? Does Harris really believe that most homosexual lovers are “glamourless [sic] hausfraus who wash socks, entertain in-laws, pick up laundry from the dry cleaners, and agonize over their dishpan hands” (p. 266)? (Further, doesn’t this description contradict his previous assertion of gay men as affluent “gym-toned yuppies” well-versed in high-brow culture?) Is mainstream heterosexual society rife with “bland invisibility”? Does monogamy, which Harris assumes is characteristic of heterosexual men and women and ipso facto inherently boring, denote an “extraordinarily regressive attempt for gay men to [purge themselves] of [their] profligate habits” (p. 51)? (Incidentally, are the elitism and misogyny inherent in the preceding statements intentional?) Have most gay men “pickled [themselves] in preservatives [becoming] little more than virtuoso feats of self-taxidermy” (p. 98)? Is piercing one’s nipples or nostrils a “violation, a disfiguring as invasive as any botched circumcision” (p. 104)? Is it accurate to assert that the ideal body (as presented in gay culture) constitutes a “deodorized peak of svelte perfection [which is attainable] only through back-breaking regimens of diet and exercise” (p. 106)? Do gay porn performers really spend hours “torturing themselves at the gym” (p. 128)? Such statements foster

592 the impression that what Harris has written is a catty jeremiad, a screed, when, in actuality, it is much more. Finally, although certain inconsistencies emerge between chapters (likely the product of many of them being published separately as essays), there are a few in particular that warrant mention. First, Harris reports that “once [gay men] achieve national unity, [they] immediately attract the attention of manufacturers, who begin colonizing [them] as a market, thus hastening [their] assimilation into society at large” (p. 62). Yet, the marketplace has a vested interest in maintaining this social group’s identity; it wants homosexual men and women to “buy gay.” The total assimilation of this social group would denote the end of the homosexual as a commodity. Harris acknowledges this in the chapters on “Teflon magazines” and “glad-to-be-gay propaganda,” but perceives these new products as denoting the “fall” of gay culture. Why? Are magazines such as Genre and Out necessarily less important (or influential) elements of gay culture than films such as The Women or Dead Ringer? Is disinterest in forms of entertainment Harris deems meritorious (namely, ballet, opera, and classical music) tantamount to cultural decline? Second, Harris contends that a “major aspect of homosexual identity [is] its virulent streak of anti-philistinism” (p. 71). He maintains that, in the past, gay men relied on the “protective mantle of culture” to distance themselves from, and feel superior to, the heterosexual mainstream. However, gay men’s purported appreciation for filmic melodrama and, more globally, their love of camp—both of which are decidedly low-brow—do not really “fit” with this analysis. If gay men wanted to separate themselves from the masses, why would they embrace popular entertainers such as Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, and Judy Garland? Surely, they could signify their homosexual status in ways other than shouting “Jungle Red” or inquiring about the latest Susan Hayward vehicle. Third, Harris laments about the “death of camp.” Yet, it is moribund only if defined using archaic referent points. While it is undoubtedly true that many young gay men are not familiar with films such as Mildred Pierce and Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?, they are likely well acquainted with more contemporary entries in the pantheon of gay camp, such as St. Elmo’s Fire, Showgirls, and Glitter. Finally, Harris prevaricates on the state of gay assimilation. On the one hand, he intimates that it is a fait accompli; however, on the other, he asserts that “state after state defeats anti-discrimination bills, pardons fag bashers, disqualifies lesbian mothers on the grounds that they are unfit parents, reinstates archaic antisodomy statutes, and champions the exclusion of homosexuals from the military” (p. 76). Harris contends that the purpose of the Teflon magazines is to “provide a distinctly futuristic urban nirvana in which gay people

Book Reviews are no longer persecuted and self-loathing” (p. 66). If gay culture is a product of oppression and gay men and lesbian women’s desire for a “fully liberated gay future” constitutes little more than a “nonexistent Shangri-La,” then the culture itself must be vital indeed. REFERENCE Morrison, M. A., & Morrison, T. G. (2002). Development and validation of a scale measuring modern prejudice toward gay men and lesbian women. Journal of Homosexuality, 43(2), 15–37. DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6289-2

Man Enough: Embodying Masculinities. By Victor J. Seidler. Sage Publications, Thousand Oaks, California, 1997, 236 pp., $32.95. Reviewed by Charles W. Adkins, B.A.1

Framed as a response to Robert Bly’s Iron John, Seidler presents how masculinities are located within the Enlightenment vision of modernity. By being polarized between institutionalized effects of modernity and postmodern individualism, many Western men have great difficulty forming identities that are simultaneously pro-female and pro-male. Seidler emphasizes Bly’s ideas regarding the need of men to become vulnerable with each other, embracing and working through often painful histories, in order to minimize the “splits between reason and nature, mind and body, thought and emotions, matter and spirit.” Thankfully, Seidler does not fully endorse Iron John; he notes its limitations in terms of egalitarian male relationships with women and children as well as Bly’s lack of responsibility addressing how men can relate to feminism in ways that are not androcentric and misogynistic. Where Bly falls short, Seidler picks up the shortcomings and constructs a more complete analysis addressing positive ways that the men’s movement has responded and could respond to feminism. Instead of rebelling against feminism, hence trying to reassure and reclaim male power and privilege, Seidler stresses that men should address issues of masculinity in terms of relationships with other men, women, and children. Seidler refutes Bly’s idea of having to move the male child from the mother’s house—private sphere—into the father’s house—public sphere—which does nothing to challenge the institutionalized oppression of women. As well as providing a more balanced male response to feminism and the “crisis of masculinity,” Seidler also suggests that men should utilize tools that mirror the feminist consciousness-raising groups as well as psychotherapy. However, Seidler does caution against 1 Department

of Sociology, Georgia State University, Atlanta, Georgia 30302-3965; e-mail: [email protected].

Book Reviews the individualism that can result from psychotherapy as well as the therapist’s assumed authority of knowledge. Within consciousness-raising groups, Seidler notes, men can work to minimize the intellectualizing of emotions and learn to experience and feel their embodied selves. By integrating emotional sources of knowledge within the consciousness-raising groups, this will allow men to understand and appreciate the differences between men, not just between men and women, and hopefully start challenging the need to have competitiveness as part of the definition of masculinity. Understanding sources of knowledge also became an element of interest in the book, one that I particularly appreciated. In the Western world, the rational individual is equated to the non-emotional individual and both are seen as constructs of masculinity. Seidler emphasizes the limitations of voiding out emotional and experiential sources of knowledge on both the personal level as well as on the institutionalized academic level. Many feminist writings have shown that through the construction of modernity, scientific knowledge is inherently gendered and developed in opposition to the pre-modern intuitive knowledge—read feminine knowledge (Collins, 2000). Seidler stresses the need to rethink and challenge the Eurocentrism of much social theory by treating bodies and feelings as sources of knowledge and by utilizing sensitivity and intuition, which are often devalued within academia. Too often, the academy rejects experience as a theoretical category by equating the use of personal knowledge with a lack of theoretical sophistication. Therefore, in a brave and courageous move, Seidler examines the realities of the Westernized male by using his own personal voice combined with classic sociological theorizing—Freud, Foucault, Kant, Jung, and Weber. However, the configuration of the book does not make Seidler’s insights easy to obtain at times. For example, in the chapter on sexualities, Seidler writes at length about masculinities in terms of warriors, war, and the feeling of suffering. Specifically, he examines George Bush’s masculinity and does so without successfully providing the link into sexuality. Because of the odd configuration of the material, the text is also repetitive and redundant at times. However, I do recommend this book for a broad audience, specifically those who are interested in the intersections of modernity with masculinities in terms of intra- and inter-gendered relationships.

593 DOI: 10.1007/s10508-005-6293-6

Critical Issues in Child Sexual Abuse: Historical, Legal, and Psychological Perspectives. Edited by Jon R. Conte. Sage Publications, Thousand Oaks, California, 2002, 224 pp., $98.95 (hardcover); $46.95 (paperback). Reviewed by Mark F. Schwartz, Sc.D.1

This is a book inspired by the honoring of Roland Summit, and his contributions to the field of child sexual abuse. Summit’s career greatly inspired much of the public health work over the past 20 years in child sexual abuse. He was one of the few voices in psychiatry to shout that Freud’s contribution of disbelieving his patient’s recounts of child sexual abuse quieted the entire field to this problem for 60 years. This volume reviews historical, legal, and psychological changes in the approach to child sexual abuse since the child abuse hotlines clearly documented that the problem was in epidemic proportions, forcing the mental health and legal systems to attack the devastating consequences of the problem which so many were motivated not to see. The volume begins with a fascinating interview with Summit about his experiences with the legal and mental health systems. This is followed by an indepth review of legal changes such as: Are we prosecuting more cases? Is our ability to use children’s testimony improving and have false memory debates led to greater or lesser justice? A combination of therapists, researchers, and legal experts provide a variety of perspectives. Even Kluft offers a chapter of his rethinking of dissociative disorders and opinions regarding child abuse. Perhaps the only chapter I wish could have been considered for the text would be the media’s influence regarding the problem of child sexual abuse. My opinion is that the weekly repetition of front-page coverage of the Catholic priests’ molesting and the cover-ups has done more to force the public realization of this heinous crime than our professional publications. Now that our systems have recognized the prevalence figures of this problem throughout the world, we can now begin to struggle with the crucial questions of which child rearing patterns create epidemic proportions of men who passively express rage towards females by deviant sexual arousal and how do we pay for the services to stop these men sooner.

REFERENCE Collins, P. H. (2000). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge.

1 Castlewood

Treatment Center for Eating Disorders, 800 Holland Rd., St. Louis, Missouri 63021; e-mail: [email protected].