Irina Kaspe. Emigration from the country of the antipodes

It is given that the main reason for the chilling sexist horror of the hot feminist pressure is not at all the struggle for world domination, but a clash with the Unknown, Inconsistent, Unknowable. Who (what?!) is behind this force that sweeps away everything in its path? At what point is It inclined to represent in its person a unique female civilization, in what situation is it inclined to try on masculine stereotypes, when it prefers to talk about “humanity” without unnecessary comments? In whose language, on whose territory, from whose positions will the next attack be made? If you make a mistake, blame yourself.

“Women's Prose” by Katie Lette, at first glance, conscientiously fills in the gaps of the “male narrative”: “In classic novels, heroines always gave birth in parentheses. And childbirth as such was described with ellipses . ” It’s easy to guess that the heroine of “Patrimonial Attraction” gives birth throughout the entire book, periodically being distracted by lengthy flashbacks. As it turns out along the way, the plot was based on a double craving for the masculine: a two-meter red-haired Australian woman goes on a journey to her beloved man and, moreover, to the very lair, to the very hotbed of male, logical, educational culture - to England. Once in London, Madeline Wolfe puts an end to her career as a truck driver and swimming instructor; Unbeknownst to herself, she indulges in typically feminine activities: she goes to cooking classes, works on her pronunciation following the example of Eliza Doolittle, and most importantly, learns to listen to puns, speak in paraphrases and decipher euphemisms. A little more - and the newly acquired English language ( “I should always speak as if I have a penis in my mouth” ) will stretch across the linguistic range of a housewife: from Aesopian requests to bring a bluish-green bottle to a heightened semiotic sensitivity worthy of a manual on applied psychology:

"Aussies," Humphrey said, "are so funny." Now Maddie understood the meaning of his words. They meant: "Roll away, you bastard from the colony." “It’s good that you came,” Sonia greeted her on the threshold of her home in Chelsea, when Alex brought Maddie to their place for lunch, “we think it’s important to expand our circle of newcomers.” Now Maddy translated it as "Someone didn't show up at the last minute, we couldn't find anyone but you to fill in and keep the number of guests needed"... And then there's Alex. His "Some things need to be discussed and some problems solved" meant... the family home in Oxford with his wife Felicity . "

There is no way back along this road; a return to free Australia is unmotivated, but firmly crossed out of plans for the future. The distant homeland, the utopian country of the antipodes no longer exists. Despite the general snobbery and cynicism, despite the personal meanness of That Same Man Alex, in spite of and to the pandan purposeful denunciation of British reality, cultivated to the point of nausea, the heroine of the novel, as if enchanted, repeats: “ I like England . ” In gender theory, such things are sometimes called relational identity.

Everything, of course, will end well: the child will be born, the nightmare will be lifted, the liberated woman of the West will regain the ability to make independent decisions and will even sketch out several - not the most convincing - theses on the topic of pathological love for the country of warm beer (manners, dignity, tolerance, butter doesn’t melt, men are sentimental, drinks can be ordered before intermission, etc.). However, the trick is that Kathy Lette's novel cannot be perceived as a sequential, linear story in which events are pushed away from the masculine pole and attracted to the feminine. It would be too easy.

The plot summary described above is only suitable for calming trembling sexists. All the twists and turns of the plot are clearly visible before the protagonist has time to say “yes”: ” “Does he love you? God, don’t be such a slob, leave your Shakespearean passions. He just wants to drag you into bed . The hidden meaning of a doubly coded English phrase is fished to the surface like a purse-loop caught on a hook: "Don't doubt my passion. My life belongs to you... Felicity was a mistake, a good deal. You are my equal in intelligence. By the way, you took from laundry my shirts?.. Has anyone deprived us of our inalienable right to life, liberty and happiness?.. By the way, a man is allowed to have several wives. Oooh! God, be careful!" .

Cross-stitched “Yes” and “No” are two sides of one pillowcase in the family bedroom of the hated Alex: “Maddie... decisively turned the pillows over to the side where “No” was embroidered . There is no other choice. To change the plot, you need to turn it over pillow. And then another, and another. The real mechanism that sets history in motion is paradox, inconsistency, inconsistency. The girl who was expected throughout the book will ultimately turn out to be not a girl at all, but, um... in general, read for yourself.

The publisher's annotation is on point: the heroine of the novel is called “wandering through the London slums ,” while the unfortunate Maddy spends most of her literary time struggling with the conventions of high society. The translator is not far behind: evidence of the sparkling humor of Katie Lett, noted by critics ( “What a body! Yes, in the shadow of his penis you can hide from the sun” ) alternates with clearly homemade nonsense: “She’s about to be born.” They talk about her as letter "

The shape-shifting meaning is all that remains of the defeated binary. The country of the antipodes never existed. We have to re-cut the well-trodden circles in order to finally miss each other once again:

“Their kisses missed the target, their noses clung to each other, their teeth clashed every now and then... “Shhhh,” Maddie constantly repeated and from time to time added: “Miss again!”