Shulman, Alix Kates (Vol. 10)
Shulman, Alix Kates 1932–
Shulman is an American novelist, essayist, editor, and writer of books for children whose works reflect her strong commitment to the feminist movement. Her major fictive concerns are with the problems of growing up female in America and with the political and social implications of the Women's Liberation movement as it enters its second decade. (See also CLC, Vol., 2, and Contemporary Authors, Vols. 29-32, rev. ed.)
Zane IndiAnna, the heroine of [Burning Questions]—ingeniously cast as the autobiography of a militant feminist—wants above all, in the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., to "share the passion and action of [her] time." After much tedious floundering in aimless confusion, Zane achieves her goal….
Burning Questions is actually, and problematically, two novels in one, unsuccessfully conjoined. One is the traditional Bildungsroman…. [Zane] undergoes the ordeals of the late fifties, sleeping around among the Beats, typing-pool jobs, retreat into a dull marriage, motherhood, and emotional deprivation until she discovers the Movement and changes her life. It is the oft-told tale, valid but uninspiringly repeated. The other novel, though, the second half of Burning Questions, is vastly more exciting and written with conviction and authority: the rebel's tract, merging the circumstances of the historical moment with Zane's personal destiny.
Shulman is at her best when describing with passion the young days of the Movement…. In this aspect, Burning Questions is an experiment in a form unfortunately fallen into disuse, the novel of ideas.
Shulman's formidable intelligence regrettably stands in the way of the more urgent demands of fiction. Every experience is presented twice—as it happens, and in Zane's analysis. (For example, a beautiful, taut moment of sexual desire in the unlikely dark of a police wagon is immediately marred by Zane's explanation of the complex forces that produced it.) This constant commentary on the action, along with the older Zane's hindsight, reflects the awkwardness of trying to have it both ways: how appealingly foolish I was and how mellow I have become. Justification of dubious acts (marriage, adultery) by quotations from the diaries of rebels is not persuasive motivation. (pp. 40-1)
The last section of Burning Questions gives a fine portrayal of the changes in the Movement from the late sixties to the mid-seventies…. Wisely, Shulman makes no premature judgments about this transition, but invokes the passage of time and the constant flux of radical impulses. One wishes she had delineated this ebb and flow in greater detail. (p. 41)
Lynne Sharon Schwartz, "'How Foolish I Was: How Mellow I've Become'," in Ms. (© 1978 by Ms. Magazine Corp.), March, 1978, pp. 40-1.
It's hard to go unprejudiced into [Burning Questions], which is yet another novel about how an ordinary, middle-class housewife becomes an ardent feminist. It's even harder when there's a bibliography at the end … and when the novel turns out to be, quite literally, a novel within a novel.
The puzzling thing about Zane's story is her extreme distance from her own life. She recounts it in a sweeping way, categorizing, summing up…. Zane has a habit of offhandedly mentioning, a hundred pages late, that such-and-such an event has already occurred, more or less by the bye: her loss of virginity, her marriage, childbirth, two abortions, divorce. Experiences skim past her, as if happening to someone else.
But the surprise is that by the end of the book, we do care for Zane, however impatient we've been with her along the way. I think the reason for this can be found in the title. The "burning questions" are not, as I had feared, queries about women's victimization or men's supremacy, but about "how to live, how to be." What Zane is struggling for is a way of making the best use of her life. What she's struggling against, from childhood onward, is that cursory, pigeonholing glance that "places" her and forgets her; and who wouldn't sympathize with that? The most convincing scenes in the book are those where she attempts to involve herself in the causes of the '60s—signing petitions, joining marches—but is consistently excluded or ignored because she is a matron in sneakers, pushing a stroller: a middle-class white liberal woman, dime a dozen….
She does avoid the temptation to end her story with the end of the '60s, on a note of glory; she admits that the '70s have seen a sort of slackening process. It is this new clear-eyed, steady view of hers that wins us over, finally. I started Burning Questions feeling edgy and suspicious, and some of my suspicions were confirmed; but I think that any book that so satisfyingly and believably portrays the altering of a character's life deserves to be read.
Anne Tyler, "After the Prom," in Book World—The Washington Post (© The Washington Post), March 26, 1978, p. G3.
Will the women's movement survive its novelists? This question seems urgent in the wake of Alix Kates Shulman's new novel, "Burning Questions." Mrs. Shulman has undertaken to write not merely another of those vaguely fictionalized chronicles about the inchoate misery of a housewife-and-mother who finds her tongue and her freedom from patriarchal oppression after joining a consciousness-raising group; no, Mrs. Shulman aspires to loftier deeds than personal confession. With the story of a feminist leader who calls herself Zane IndiAnna (because she comes from Indiana), an early convert to women's liberation in the 1960's, she hopes to capture the apotheosis of radical feminism, an instructive exemplar who will be no less than the Representative Woman of our revolutionary times.
Mrs. Shulman has written "Burning Questions" in the form of Zane's autobiography so that her heroine will be endowed with prototypical stature. Its title ("My Life as a Rebel") and tone of didactic uplift are intended to echo the stirring autobiographies of such actual revolutionary women as Angelica Balabanoff (who also called her story "My Life as a Rebel"), Emma Goldman, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, Mothers Bloor and Jones, Angela Davis, Vera Figner, and so on. At decisive moments of her narrative, Zane quotes her redoubtable predecessors as though to affirm her place in their legendary company, and when at the end of her book she provides a lengthy bibliography of...
(The entire section is 496 words.)
One of the burning troubles with [Burning Questions] is that it comes labeled "a novel." This makes one expect enticingly interesting character, artful movement of plot, efficiency of revelatory thought, etc.—all of which, along with a felicitous prose style, are missing. Humor isn't, but that's another problem. The book seems intended as a kind of way-we-are-now political statement—the saga of the development of a radical feminist consciousness over the last 20 years. One presumes that it is autobiographical. It is at times tongue-in-cheek. The heroine's name is Zane IndiAnna, and Burning Questions is her phrase, and this is meant to be her memoir and tract. But it is also, plainly, the author's—that is to say, it's serious business. This has the strange effect of making one feel out-of-line if one smiles, as if only the author could do that because she alone can do it in love of Zane, as if she alone can know precisely when Zane is being silly and when Zane is being brave. And, of course, it is at her direction…. It isn't a hateful book, and some will see it as intriguing, clefy history. But it isn't very good, either. As one of Zane's lovers notes (in a typically cute-macho way), Zane is "always thinking"; unfortunately, one's interest in the process depends somewhat on the quality of the results. Zane's are earnest but wanting—which makes me get irresponsible and giggly. But then ugliness sets in. For Zane's thoughts are only what Alix Kates Shulman has allowed; Shulman herself is off the hook (one can only guess what she thinks), and I am on. If winning players are always lucky, losers are set up—and Burning Questions is, for me, a losing game. I wish it hadn't been a novel. There is, of course, a lingering respect for the intentions of a plainer book, and for the hard-won consciousness that this book is witness to. For the rest, sheepishly, with irritation, I must castle. (p. 69)
Eliot Fremont-Smith, in The Village Voice (reprinted by permission of The Village Voice; copyright © by The Village Voice, Inc., 1978), April 3, 1978.
[Burning Questions] is a well-written and intelligent account of one woman's journey through befuddled and aspiring youth to satisfying and productive adulthood. In another way she reveals the saga of the women's movement—how we hope, how we struggle, how we survive, and even overcome….
The book has its drawbacks. Many of the early pages' political references seem tedious. The main character has not been fully developed as yet, and much of this politicizing seems hollow pontification…. But these are minor points contrasted with Shulman's overall accomplishment.
She has written a forceful and articulate appraisal of one woman's transformation. It can be a guide to anyone...
(The entire section is 136 words.)
Shulman, Alix Kates (Vol. 2)
Shulman, Alix Kates 1932–
A Jewish American feminist, Ms. Shulman is best known for her fine novel Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen. (See also Contemporary Authors, Vols. 29-32.)
In "Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen," the familiar, bouncy voyage from mattress to mattress takes place through the looking glass where grudges are reckoned in female terms.
The publishers announce this angry little book as the first feminist novel, a claim that can be quibbled about indefinitely. (For starters, what was last year's small, polished gem of rage, "Up the Sandbox" by Anne Richardson Roiphe, if not a cry for liberation from stale sex roles?) This, though, may well be the first novel by a member in good standing in the current feminist movement. Earlier, Alix Shulman seems to have drawn pique from Norman Mailer … [and anyone] who pricks the crocodile skin of Mailer—that boring boor of fearful knighthood—deserves more than a faint round of applause. These "Memoirs" scale no lyrical or imaginative peaks, but they rate a bravo as a consciousness-raising attempt. Yet as a fictional sequel to Kate Millett's attack on literary male chauvinism, it doesn't quite succeed.
Marylin Bender, in The New York Times Book Review (© 1972 by The New York Times Company; reprinted by permission), April 23, 1972, pp. 34, 36.
I want to praise this novel [Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen] for its intentions, which are to give a straight, obviously autobiographical portrait of the oppressive aspects of growing up as a white, middle-class female in America, lightened and relieved by the inclusion of all the self-flagellating humor that goes along with it. But until the very end of the book, where Alix Kates Shulman gives us a devastating picture of her heroine as wife and mother that will arouse everything from enormous empathy to rage and panicky denial from every woman reader, this novel is a smashing disappointment. And that is chiefly because it is actually more a memoir of a middle-class Jewish girlhood than it is a book about being female and thus tracked into American Womanhood.
Sara Blackburn, in Book World (© The Washington Post), May 14, 1972, p. 13.
This remarkable first novel [Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen, by Alix Kates Shulman] is in many ways a break-through book, innovative both in its rendering of the feminine experience and in its quite perfect marriage of thesis to art. In giving us the story of narrator Sasha Davis, the ex-prom queen of the misleadingly self-deprecating title, the author has incorporated all the points of the Women's Liberation movement and given them rare fictional life. The story is an original, artistic marking of certain of the key turning points of emotion, biology, and intellect in a woman's life. The identification for women here should be strong, but the insights bridge the gender gap. One can read Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen without thinking of the movement. Moreover, a woman can read it with the keen pleasure and astonishment that comes from seeing what one believed were her own private thoughts and secret experiences set down on paper.
Lucy Rosenthal, in Saturday Review (copyright © 1972 by Saturday Review; first appeared in Saturday Review, May 20, 1972; used with permission), May 20, 1972, pp. 76-7.