Plainsong by Kent Haruf : A Book Review

I buy books at thrift stores a lot, which means I buy books that I wouldn't normally gravitate towards.  They're normally worn, which I take as a good sign - a sign that someone read it and really enjoyed it.  They may have some accolades on the first few pages, parts of reviews from The New York Times Book Review or the Washington Post.  They talk about the author's skill, some bullet points of the plot.  And normally it works - normally I'll give the book a try if I'm still interested at this point.  For a dollar, why not? 

And normally it works out!  I've discovered some interesting books this way.  

But - Plainsong by Kent Haruf.  

It was not a pleasant experience.

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What bothered me the most was the way he wrote from a young girl's perspective in what felt so completely as the male gaze.  There was one scene in the book where teenage boys were sharing a girl (sexually), the girlfriend of one of them.  The girl was encouraged to sleep with the other, in an abandoned house, stereotypically for these types of things on a "dirty mattress".  Oh yea, there was a blanket laid out.  And there were tea candles.

It feels gross even writing it back.  It feels gross because it's so worn out.  It stinks of male fantasy and is simply overplayed.  Romanticizing the lack of actions, the lack of agency that women have, making light of it, and joking about it feels so privileged.  It feels like another instance of women's narratives being sabotaged and overrun by the male gaze.  And then there is the pregnant teenager.  And the fat mother of the main antagonist.  All of these women are so shallow, are caricatures of the female experience.  Voyeuristic excitement.   

It all feels like a boring reality tv show.