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Fiction. HTML:This smash bestseller about privileged Vassar classmates shocked America in the sixties and remains "juicy . . . witty . . . brilliant" (Cosmopolitan). At Vassar, they were known as "the group"â??eight young women of privilege, the closest of friends, an eclectic mix of vibrant personalities. A week after graduation in 1933, they all gather for the wedding of Kay Strong, one of their own, before going their separate ways in the world. In the years that follow, they will each know accomplishment and loss in equal measure, pursuing careers and marriage, experiencing the joys and traumas of sexual awakening and motherhood, all while suffering through betrayals, infidelities, and sometimes madness. Some of them will drift apart. Some will play important roles in the personal dramas of others. But it is tragedy that will ultimately unite the group once again. A novel that stunned the world when it was first published in 1963, Mary McCarthy's The Group found acclaim, controversy, and a place atop the New York Times bestseller list for nearly two years for its frank and controversial exploration of women's issues, social concerns, and sexuality. A blistering satire of the mores of an emergent generation of women, The Group is McCarthy's enduring masterpiece, still as relevant, powerful, and wonderfully entertaining fifty years on. This ebook features an illustrated biography of Mary McCarthy including rare images from the author's esta… (more)
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I remember skimming through this at my Seattle grandmother's house when I was in high school. At that point I was mostly shocked that
Written almost more as a series of short stories about the women in the group, the stories are tied together by Vassar, a wedding (at the beginning), and a funeral (at the end). In between are stories I will never forget. A Particular standout for me is Chapter 2, wherein Dottie loses her virginity. Ms. McCarthy truly captures the universal awkwardness of this event along with its own attendant pleasant surprises and does so in effortless intelligent prose. I loved one of the minor characters, Noreen Schmittlapp - utterly contemptible in some ways and yet so admirable in her ability to flaunt convention - she's a gorgeous counterpoint to some of the other more downtrodden and conventional characters.
This book makes me grateful that I was born during the era of Our Bodies, Ourselves instead of relying on Kraft-Ebbing for my education on human sexuality. I am glad that I have more choices than these women did (What the hell did they get such great educations for, anyway, if all that was on offer was to keep house? Better cocktail party conversation?). I am glad that I can't be institutionalized for objecting to a spouse's affairs and physical abuse (at least not easily).
I was just as struck, however, by the way some things endure - watch any one of the dozens of bridal shows on television right now and boggle along with me at the notion that this is a woman's only day, the most important dress she'll ever spend too much money on, the ne plus ultra of life - the more things change, the more they stay same (factoring in inflation, of course).
Except that - of course - whilst McCarthy draws heavily on the imagery, set-piece scenes and language of romantic comedy as well as its plot conventions (even to the extent of having a chapter written from the POV of an English Butler in an obvious Wodehouse-pastiche), there is no way that anyone could possibly mistake this for a conventional romantic comedy. A few pages into the book we are dropped into a detailed and decidedly unerotic description of a young woman's first experience of sexual intercourse, making it abundantly clear to the reader that we are as far away from Lady Chatterley as we are from Jill the reckless. And in case we might still have any delusions about that, we then get a whole chapter on the diaphragm. Later on in the book, McCarthy takes on other sensitive topics, including domestic violence, breast-feeding, rival theories of baby-care, the abuses of psychiatric medicine, Lesbianism (still determinedly large-L in McCarthy's day), and burial practices. This was all written at a time when battles over literary censorship were still raging in most English-speaking countries, and publishers were far from sure that you could get away with talking about such things in print (but they were always willing to try, knowing that controversial books sell like hot cakes...).
There's clearly a roman Ă clef aspect as well, since she draws quite heavily on her own life for subject-matter (even to the extent of giving one of the most unsympathetic characters the name and occupation of her own first husband...). And McCarthy makes no attempt to hide her left-wing political views, although she does poke a bit of fun at her former Trotskyist affiliation.
The fact that a book broke taboos in 1963 doesn't necessarily make it worth reading now. So what else does McCarthy have to offer? I got a lot of pleasure from her very precise, ironic use of language. She is constantly subverting the idiom of romance by slipping in some ostensibly harmless expression that actually turns the sense of the whole passage on its head. There are hundreds of examples in the text: one that particularly struck me is the scene where the horrible Harald has committed his perfectly sane wife to a mental hospital and spends the day wandering aimlessly around the city thinking about the enormity of what he's just done. Amongst other things, he visits the zoo and looks at "his ancestors, the apes". In context, you hardly notice it going past, but when you've read that you know exactly what to think of Harald and you're not in the least surprised that his conscience does not win out over his desire to get his wife out of the way. Maybe that sort of thing is more a columnist's trick than a building block for a big literary structure, but it does make sure you keep on reading attentively.
The other reason for reading the book today, and probably the important one, is for what it tells us about the way the dominant ideology defines roles for women. The characters in the book have been brought up to see themselves as the crème de la crème (to borrow a phrase from another fifties book about women in the thirties) of the coming generation in America. They have completed an education that should qualify them to go anywhere and do anything, and most of them have the kind of dynastic support and financial resources that ought to mean no door is closed to them. Some of them are the daughters of women who were prominent in the struggle for women's education and the vote. Most have left college with the idea of changing the world (as we all do...), yet by the end of the book, none of them seems to have retained enough belief in herself to achieve anything professionally: sooner or later they all end up measuring success or failure in terms of husbands, babies, furniture and designer clothes. The corollary of this should presumably be "if they can't manage it, what hope is there for working-class women?" - but it isn't really very evident from the book that any of the characters, or even the author, is really aware that working-class women exist (except for faintly comic black maidservants, and they seem to become invisible when off duty too). So I suspect that we might just be reading that into it.
When I read The Group, I read it pretty certain that I knew who the compulsive reader character was, and the one who traveled around the world. So I read it with other than strictly literary interest, though after forty years I only recall a skilled narrative balancing the five principle characters, and including dramatic scenes such as the loss of virginity.
I believe it was unprecedented as a novel, the first feminist novel in prioritizing women themselves, with relationships secondary. Italian feminist novels have done similarly, but more recently, in the last twenty years. And they are more grim, as is the sexist situation they find themselves in.
What struck me as I read this book, which was apparently enormously popular when it was published in the 60s, was how even though it was written 50 years ago and takes place another 30 years before that, it was so modern in many ways. Sure, some of the references are pretty dated, but the challenges these women face are largely similar to the ones we're continuing to face today: the difference between sex and love (and wanting the former to mean the latter even when you know it doesn't), dead-end relationships, sexism in the workplace, sexuality, marriage, raising kids. There's a character, Priss, who has a child and is struggling with the decision of whether to breast feed or bottle feed and the way she feels like she's doing it wrong depending on who's she's talking to. The Mommy Wars feel very current and endemic to the current social media-laden climate, but this book makes it obvious that it goes back waaay further than that. It's easy to feel like the stuff your generation is facing is new and different than the things that previous generations struggled with, but it's really much more similar than you might think. Plus ca change and all that.
There are other problems here, too. While the blood at the Seven Sisters probably ran a bit bluer in the thirties than it did today, every member of the titular group seems to be wealthy, fashionable, and pretty. It's a pleasant-enough fantasy, sure, but it makes it difficult for this reader to take these characters, and the author who created them, very seriously. "The Group" suffers from an early version of what we might call the "Sex in the City" problem: McCarthy can't seem to decide whether she's critiquing her characters' privileged upbringings and social presumption or celebrating them. Too often, I feel it's the latter; the book is riddled with brand names, upper-class signifiers and loving descriptions of luxury goods. At the same time, she seems to vaguely resent her characters' presumably insincere dabbling in leftist politics, proving, perhaps, that some social grudges seem to seem to endure down through the generations. Heck, add a few tattoos, vegan tacos, and fixie bikes and "The Group" could tell the story of contemporary Brooklyn hipsters. I hope I haven't just given some aspiring writer an idea; I doubt very much that a Williamsburg version of "The Group" would be any better than McCarthy's original. Readers who don't go all soft when handsome young doctors propose marriage to their put-upon nurses are encouraged to skip this particular product of its time.
McCarthy gets quite a bit out of the tension between characters being comedically wrong and worryingly wrong. And that's putting it lightly; some of the dialogue can be absolutely chilling, especially the prisoners who have learned to love their prison. Each of the characters seems promising and aware of their times, until they incidentally slip into some pattern of behavior that perpetuates the oppression of women at the time.
As far as those patterns of behavior, McCarthy has wonderful treatments of internal dialogues and how women at the time sort of reasoned their way through the world. More than their actions, it shows the assumptions and prejudices they worked under, and the rationalizations that justified horrible results for themselves. There's also a tremendous insecurity from the expectations of the day, primarily marriage.
So many of the dialogues would start with the character considering something and, like pulling on a sweater's thread, slowly unraveling what they thought they knew. Sometimes it's accurate, but most of the time you get the sense that they're just running around in circles missing some central lacuna. And so many of the dialogues pulled from the pop-psychology of the day, primarily Freud's. It's hard to imagine today how large his impact was, but at the time it rivaled Darwin's (and possibly exceeded).
Sometimes McCarthy steps back and looks at things from an incidental character's point of view, showing how these young women are perceived—and in that perception, constrained—by men and older women. There are yet other episodes that show the fruitless of their analysis and pop-psychology by upturning one character's inferences using the experience of another. in one memorable case, she has one character remember a party that was already described matter-of-factly, except this character's rememberance is overtaken by a single, surprising urge.
I was surprised by how much the novel was also focused on class: how it in some senses liberated the women of the novel to worry less about material needs, but at the same time gave them more to lose if they worked against the social order. It's hard to say whether class lended itself to more or less equitable relations—I'd guess more because these women had access to education, but it's hard to tell given the shared social background of most characters. It would certainly vary dramatically by region though, with women in East Texas not yet receiving electricity and expected to perform any number of back-breaking duties in a day.
That's not to say that our monied characters don't have terrifying experiences of their own. The mental ward chapter was especially scary, having gone through a similar experience myself. Kay's admission is still very similar to how it's done today, and is enough to drive one to madness if they weren't already there. Public mental health care in the US is like maintaining a fire department without fire codes, and it hasn't markedly improved in the last 80 years. One's husband cannot trap you in the ward merely on his say-so, but the criteria for release are still frustratingly vague.
This is in many ways a tremendously important novel to read today, even though things have certainly improved for the better. Most people today understand that it was bad for women in the past, but it's hard to imagine the ways that such oppression sustained itself. For so many historical studies of sexism and racism, it's a tempting answer to just say they were dumber back in the day; while this is somewhat true when you consider lead-poisoning and alcohol consumption of the day, it's a dangerously incomplete answer. Grappling with the particulars of how we demeaned women is gruesome but necessary so we understand that oppression doesn't come in flashing neon. It slips into your very ways of thinking, masquerading as a web of supporting assumptions that can't be eliminated until the entire system has been unmasked and hacked away.
Although the book skips around from character to character
The Group formed while the ladies were attending Vassar College. We begin our journey with them after their graduation from Vassar and in attendance at Kay and Harald’s wedding. Kay was the glue of The Group but Lakey was the Queen Bee. Lakey was the flame and all the other girls were the moths. The privileged background of all the girls was laid out in specific detail until sometime you got bogged down just in the details. These ladies were a part of the high society and upper crust but they dealt with normal everyday issues like most women no matter the class. Each woman held a uniqueness that contributed to the entire Group. The Group ranged from the Stepford wives to the politically involved.
The story stayed true to the era. This was an era where women were still testing the waters to see just how far they could break away from the ever so enforced gender roles. There is not an underlying “feminist” theme but there is a silent rebellion against husbands and ultra starchy mothers. These ladies were well educated and wanted a place in the workforce which was male dominated at the time. We read how one took her place, Libby. Libby was my least favorite character in the novel with Kay coming a close second. Libby was the critic with an air if “out do-ness.” Kay simply tried too hard and in the end it proved detrimental. My favorite would have to be Polly. Polly overcame all the odds and really found true happiness. She was the one member of The Group that did not have privilege to rely on. Of course there was a villain, who was an outsider that attended Vassar as well named Norine. Norine was t catalyst for the main turn of events. This definition of catalyst explains her actions perfectly: “ something that causes activity between two or more persons or forces without itself being affected.”
There is no doubt that I fell in love with The Group. We begin with a wedding and end with a funeral. There is an amazing amount of life to deal with in between. The ladies are faced with losing virginity, marriage, domestic violence, adultery, breast feeding, insanity, and lesbianism. No matter what culture or class you belong to you will get lost in The Group.
While I found the book interesting, I never really warmed to any of the characters. The writing is very internal, mostly a description of the girl's life and her thoughts on whatever issue she's dealing with. They almost seem like archetypes rather than real people. McCarthy was herself a member of the class of '33, maybe these women are based on people she know, or maybe they are all facets of herself.
One thing I found odd what that this book is about this great group of friends, but we rarely see them interact with each other.
It took me a while to get into the book, but once I did, I enjoyed it. It's interesting reading about this time period from someone who lived it.
NetGalley Review
It makes me think two things: Wow, so much has changed since the 1930s, and Wow, nothing has changed since the 1930s.
Set in 1933, the novel centers on a group of friends all
The chapters focus more on individual women rather than the group as a whole, which makes sense as they are all dispersing into their post-collegiate lives but that structure makes it a little difficult to see them as a group and to weigh their interactions with each other to see how they differ from when they were all living together at school. In a way it seems as if this is more a collection of character sketches rather than a novel with any discernible plot. As a historical novel, written about the 1930s and published as short stories in the late 50s and finally as a complete novel in 1963, it is fascinating (and not a little depressing) to see that we are still facing many of the same social issues that these women were eighty some years ago. The book touches on so many things: politics, literature, religion, class, mental illness, parenting styles, opportunities for women, homosexuality, and so on. And it certainly explores the nature of friendship, the shifting relationships between the women in the group and the way that outside forces change those seemingly solid, college-forged relationships. Some of the women appear in the pages often while others, despite their apparent importance to the group as a whole, hardly feature at all. And because the narrative follows one and then another friend in great chunks, it can be difficult to remember which member of the group has experienced which event. As a social history it succeeds, but as an engaging novel, it doesn't do nearly as well. I found it to be a bit meandering and long-winded, boring even. Unfortunate when the language is clearly so polished and the potential for an engaging novel is so obviously there.
First published in 1963, this novel follows the lives of a group of eight young women after leaving exclusive Vassar College as they find love and heartbreak, careers and relationships, sex and babies, against a backdrop of
The story opens with a wedding and ends with a funeral, both for the same person-Kay, each event is attended by the other members of the 'group'. Kay is the first to marry and to die. The story shifts between the viewpoint of several but not all of the group members.
The novel covers many of the issues of the day. Dottie loses her virginity to one of Kay's wedding guests, enjoys it and goes to get herself fitted with contraception, Polly has an affair with a married man who is in counselling, Priss struggles to breastfeed her newborn son in hospital and is caught between conflicting theories about whether breast or bottle feeding is best, even how the lady of the house should treat her staff in a changing world. Meanwhile, the cracks in Kay's marriage are soon apparent. At college her ambition was to work in the theatre but she has to take a job in Macy's to fund her husband's own theatrical ambitions. These women come from a privileged echelon of society and are highly educated yet still struggle to make their mark in male dominated and sexist society.
The story is told in the third person which means that it isn't easy to get close to any of the characters, the reader is able to see what will happen next before they can. Kay and Dottie are naive whilst Norine is shallow yet they still come out of it better than all of the male characters. Similarly the sex scenes, despite being fairly explicit, felt mechanical rather than emotional. It soon becomes obvious that the author was more focused on the themes than the characterisation.
First published in 1963 this book could be seen as a forerunner of today's chick-lit meaning that I'm not really part of its target audience. That said and done I found myself smiling on a few occasions, especially when Priss was in hospital, and felt the opening scenes concerning the wedding were well written and what I imagine to be evocative of a by-gone era. However, best of all the author resisted the temptation to tie everything up in a neat tidy bow with some fairytale endings. As such I quite enjoyed it and feel that it deserves to be more widely read.
"We are the hero of our own story."