I never liked hippies. For a year, I lived in Ithaca, NY, a town that had been built up by the hippies and their presence could be felt in everything. Ithaca is a place where you can see well-off parents in expensive business suits and dresses walk down the street smoking a joint after dropping their freshman off at the dorms. I would often get high just by walking down the Commons to my apartment building. Every eatery has endless vegan options, there is a big hemp store and a coffee shop that serves different kinds of mate, and the food co-op sells the strangest food I’d ever seen anywhere. The hippies were everywhere. I was quite wary of them. They were all so nice, welcoming, relaxed and good-natured that I knew there had to be something seriously wrong with them.
The American 1960s fascinate me. I obviously wasn’t around either chronologically or geographically but I figured out very soon after emigrating that something really huge happened in the US between 1965 and 1975 and that we were still both enjoying many of that era’s achievements and experiencing an enormous backlash against it. Sigrid Nunez’s brilliant novel The Last of Her Kind helped me understand the sixties in a way I never did before. The novel is very well-written and beautifully crafted (except from one section that is too heavily influenced by Stephen King’s novella “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption.“)
The novel has two female protagonists: Ann, who symbolizes everything that was good and hopeful about the era (the progressive social movements, the rejection of the bourgeois fallacies, the sensitivity to the world’s injustices), and Georgette, the symbol of the post-sixties backlash (the erosion of the rights of women, the return of women to the practice of housewifery, the loss of interest in politics and social justice.)
The relationship between Ann and Georgette is too complex to be addressed in one short review, of course, so I will just mention that it offers a very important insight into why the progressive social and political movements so often fail to connect with the very people for whose benefit they are militating. Ann comes from a rich family but she hates her race and class origins and wants to champion the rights of the downtrodden. Georgette, Ann’s college roommate, is precisely one of these downtrodden but the gulf of misunderstanding that separates the two women can never be bridged.
I’ve seen this happen too many times. During different stages of my life, I hung out with two different progressive crowds. All of the people in them came from very well-to-do (and to my immigrant eyes, impossibly rich) families, all felt the world’s injustices very deeply, and all militated for a variety of progressive causes. These were all good, sincere, wonderful people but I found it harder to be around them than around a bunch of rabid Republicans whose views on everything were the exact opposite of mine. These progressives were very compassionate towards the imaginary, idealized vision of the poor but the actual poor annoyed them. They had given up the material comforts and privileges offered them by their families, so why did we, the people they were trying to help, so obsessed with winning those very comforts and privileges for ourselves? Why did we dedicate so much of our energies to becoming part of the very class that they despised and renounced?
No matter how much you read about poverty, you will never really understand anything about it unless you grow up poor. The drudgery, the hopelessness, the fears, the knowledge that there is nothing and nobody to fall back on no matter what happens have an enormous impact. Unless you washed everything, including the bedsheets, by hand for years, stared into disgusting dirty toilets your entire life, heated buckets and buckets of water to wash yourself, lived in terror of a toothache, hoarded candles for when the electricity went out, slept in winter boots and coats to protect yourself from cold, you will not understand those who did. I was 28 when I first used a dry cleaner’s and 33 when I first saw a dishwasher. I still have dreams of disgusting hole-in-the-ground toilets and feel amazed that hot water comes from the faucet whenever I turn it.
A fellow union organizer from a rich family once came to me for help.
“There is this Hispanic woman I’m trying to get to join the union,” he said. “But she is terrified of losing her job to the point where she just starts to blabber incoherently whenever I mention it. I understand that she has four kids and her husband is disabled, but since you are a Spanish-speaker, could you talk to her in her language and explain that she is turning a blind eye to the urgent political necessities that will benefit her in the long run for the sake of her individualistic selfish needs of the moment?”
I never experienced such a burning desire to punch out another human human being before or since.
Nunez’s protagonist Ann is the very best among such progressive militants. She is completely sincere in her compassion towards the oppressed. But both the nature of her compassion and the way it manifests itself are perceived as a lot more oppressive than liberating by the very people she wants to help. The Last of Her Kind makes it clear that the backlash against the progressive movements of the 1960s was inevitable given that the existing chasm between the rich and the poor in itself guarantees that this state of affairs can never be changed.
Georgette discards everything that the 1960s gave to her. Her children have no interest whatsoever in this era. Nunez’s book is addressed precisely to the people who have forgotten (or never knew about) the beauty and the hopefulness of that moment. In what concerns me, the novel definitely reached that goal. Now I, at least, finally understand why the Ithaca hippies are so happy and relaxed and no longer feel scared of them.
Read the novel, people. You will see that it is so much more than what I have mentioned in this review.
P.S. The novel reminded me a lot of Juan Marse’s beautiful Ultimas tardes con Teresa, which, as I just discovered, has never been translated into English. It’s one of the best XXth century novels in the Spanish language, how come there is no translation?
Clarissa's Blog 
No matter how much you read about poverty, you will never really understand anything about it unless you grow up poor.
I do not think statements like this are at all true. “You cannot understand X unless you lived through it”, Oh please, spare me.
Having been poor I can tell you that it is perfectly possible for someone to understand everything about it provided they are ready to drop preconceptions and listen to how a poor person describues it. Unless they have lived an extremely coddled life, they sure can relate to it. E.g. “remember how awful you felt when you crashed the Bentley? well poverty is like that, but 24×7” or “remember how desolate you felt when gramma died? well you have that same empty pit in the stomach, but out of hunger”.
It’s not rocket science, they are meant eather to create yet another classification in an already racially divided society “you cannot be one of mine unless you were born one of mine” or to make the speaker feel special about him/herself.
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“I do not think statements like this are at all true. “You cannot understand X unless you lived through it”, Oh please, spare me.”
– First of all, let’s try to avoid these useless interjections. You can spare yourself reading my posts but I cannot write them with the thought of sparing you personally anything.
“Having been poor I can tell you that it is perfectly possible for someone to understand everything about it provided they are ready to drop preconceptions and listen to how a poor person describues it.”
– So listening about the experience is equal to having the experience? What about racism? Rape? Torture? Hunger? You read a book, listen to a few accounts and you know exactly what it’s like to have had these experiences?
“It’s not rocket science, they are meant eather to create yet another classification in an already racially divided society “you cannot be one of mine unless you were born one of mine” or to make the speaker feel special about him/herself.”
– What’s wrong with poor people wanting to feel special about themselves? Is that an emotion that should only be reserved for the rich?
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So listening about the experience is equal to having the experience?
I said no such thing. I said one can understand the experience and relate to it.
You read a book, listen to a few accounts and you know exactly what it’s like to have had these experiences?
Again I did not say anything like that. In fact I pretty much said the contrary. You write “read a book and listen to a few accounts”, while I said “they are ready to drop preconceptions and listen to how a poor person describes it”, i.e. truly put in the effort to learn about the experience.
What’s wrong with poor people wanting to feel special about themselves?
If you want to feel special about yourself on the basis of an inability that exists only in your mind, go ahead, it’s a free country. It’s certainly not in my list of desirable attributes, but who am I to tell you on which imaginary assumptions you should base your self-image.
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“I said no such thing. I said one can understand the experience and relate to it.”
– You think you can relate to poverty without ever being poor? Or I can relate to racism? Maybe the word “relate” means a different thing to you than it does to me, then. If you are white, have you ever told a black person that you relate to their experience of racism? How did they react?
“You write “read a book and listen to a few accounts”, while I said “they are ready to drop preconceptions and listen to how a poor person describes it”, i.e. truly put in the effort to learn about the experience.”
– So is “truly putting in the effort to learn about the experience” equal to having the experience?
“If you want to feel special about yourself on the basis of an inability that exists only in your mind, go ahead,”
– I am not the author of the book I’ve reviewed here. 🙂 I only wish I had her kind of talent.
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//So listening about the experience is equal to having the experience?
No.
//What about racism? Rape? Torture? Hunger? You read a book, listen to a few accounts and you know exactly what it’s like to have had these experiences?
You read many books, listen to numerous accounts and, most importantly, use your brain AND become a real ally, not as blind as people you describe. One can infer from your post the blindness stemmed from not experiencing poverty themselves. I disagree and think it was easier for them to be blind, that they were willfully blind. This way they both assuaged their conscience and not faced complicated, nasty reality, which is much harder to do than looking at idealized, fantasy version.
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“You read many books, listen to numerous accounts and, most importantly, use your brain AND become a real ally,”
– The word ally to me means that there is a group suffering from injustice, the representatives of that group get together and work out their goals and the ways of achieving them. Then people who don’t suffer from the same injustice but are bothered by it come to them and say, “What can I do to be of use to you?” That’s an ally.
But we are talking about a completely different phenomenon here. The novel’s protagonist approaches the people and tries to open their eyes to their oppression.There is a moment where she tells black female convicts that they are slaves and the same as Holocaust victims. Understandably, the black convicts take offense. This is the kind of activism that I’m taking about. It is undoubtedly sincere and well-meaning but it alienates the people it aims to help.
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You think you can relate to poverty without ever being poor? Or I can relate to racism?
Yes, very much so. Whoever has been oppressed can relate to oppression. Whoever has been unhappy can relate to sadness in another person. If I never seen any color whatsoever I might have a problem understanding it, but so long as I’ve seen colors, I can interpolate in my mind what someone means when they try to describe “a lime green hue with a tint of orange, not quite as green as ficus leaf, but darker than an oak leaf, etc, etc. ”
Similarly, a person who has been poor can pass on the experience in terms that someone who hasn’t been poor would be familiar with.
This does not mean sharing in 100% the exact same feeling, but having the capacity to feel empathy and imagine the universe of emotions that the other person is having, provided that one is willing to listen, read and learn.
So is “truly putting in the effort to learn about the experience” equal to having the experience?
So far you are the only person saying this. Twice.
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I want to repeat my question: If you are white, have you ever told a black person that you relate to their experience of racism? How did they react? I’m really curious. Because I have to tell you that if somebody from a rich family says they can relate to my experience of poverty, I will not talk to them again because they will sound seriously deluded to me. Neither do I relate to their experience of growing up rich, of course. How could I? On the basis of what? Books and conversations?
“So is “truly putting in the effort to learn about the experience” equal to having the experience?
So far you are the only person saying this. Twice.”
– This must mean you don’t think these things are equal. Neither do I. So what are we arguing about?
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If you are white, have you ever told a black person that you relate to their experience of racism?
The comment is impolite even though it could be absolutely true (depending on the specific person who made it), because it diminishes their experience.
For example, if a good friend came crying telling you that s/he has just been dumped by their SO, the statement “you’ll get over it” is likely 100% true, yet one would still “not talk to them again” because it was the improper thing to say.
Neither do I relate to their experience of growing up rich, of course. How could I? On the basis of what? Books and conversations?
Yes. It is funny to see a professor of literature questioning the very transfer of emotions which forms the basis of so much literature (good and bad) out there.
This must mean you don’t think these things are equal. Neither do I. So what are we arguing about?
🙂
I think like you said, we have different definitions of the word relate.
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“The comment is impolite even though it could be absolutely true (depending on the specific person who made it), because it diminishes their experience.”
– OK, so let’s say 2 black people are talking about racism, one person tells of a racist incident, and another says, “I can totally relate.”
And now let’s say one of the people is white and says, “I can totally relate.”
Alternatively, imagine 2 gay people and gay and straight person discussing gay-bashing.
Or 2 Holocaust survivors and a Holocaust survivor and me.
Would that comment be equally inappropriate in both situations?
“Yes. It is funny to see a professor of literature questioning the very transfer of emotions which forms the basis of so much literature (good and bad) out there.”
– I love reading. But I’m lucid enough to understand that even if I memorize Anne Frank’s diary by heart, I will not even begin to come close to what she experienced. And if I do meet a Holocaust survivor, I will not try to educate them about their experience. Which is exactly what the character in the novel we are discussing does.
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And if I do meet a Holocaust survivor, I will not try to educate them about their experience.
This part I totally agree with. I can, with enough effort and time, get a grasp about what it meant to be a holocaust survivor. Yet I would never presume to lecture them in anything related to their experience.
This is one case where the proper role is pretty much limited to listening. Now if I had done enough of it, and no actual survivor was available to teach non-survivors about their experience, I would feel okay telling my students “I’ve read extensively about the subject, and met several survivors, so let me try to pass on to you what they tried to pass on to me about their experiences”.
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I kind of agree with CC. Good writers, for example, have no problem to write about people of different gender, age, life experiences, class, etc. How can it go together with your statement?
“Never understand anything” is a very strong expression. One may not *feel* it, remember it, but you don’t have to be 100% understanding, don’t have to be remembering poverty yourself, to be a real, helpful ally. This union organizer was an idiot. Being “compassionate towards the imaginary, idealized vision of the poor” isn’t being a true ally. And one can learn, use a brain and not do it without being poor oneself.
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” Good writers, for example, have no problem to write about people of different gender, age, life experiences, class, etc. How can it go together with your statement?”
– Writing about and writing from their point of view are different things. Every male writer who has tried writing in the female first person that I have ever read failed spectacularly. This is one of the reasons why female readers and spectators so often complain of being incapable of identifying with female characters in male-produced art.
“One may not *feel* it, remember it, but you don’t have to be 100% understanding, don’t have to be remembering poverty yourself, to be a real, helpful ally. This union organizer was an idiot.”
– I am yet to meet a different kind of a well-to-do progressive militant. The novel’s protagonist is the only one who is at least somewhat different and she isn’t even real. 🙂
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[CC this is *totally* OT (apologies to all) but I was thinking of you, reading the Nation issue on Wikileaks and effects on Latin American press, very interesting to see variety/range in content of individual cables.]
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Thanks for the reference.
Since we are on the topic, in my opinion the difference in approaches between foreign policy in Europe and Latin America are mostly due to racism. Whereas whites in Europe deserve a Marshall plan, browns in Latin America deserve a coup d’etat.
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I should read the book, I really should.
From what you describe I wouldn’t call your Cornell area people hippies, I’d call them “Volvo Democrats.”
I liked the original hippies, back when I was a child; they were so much more interesting and imaginative and so on than what were then called “straight” people (who had military haircuts and so on). But people who were actually grown up in the era and leftish did not necessarily like them, citing lack of political seriousness, lack of incisive analysis, etc., and hippie women had to be these earth mother types which I never found particularly feminist (to say the least).
On modern day hippies, who try my patience sometimes, a friend has an interesting and concise critique: “no hygiene, no respect for other peoples’ things.”
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Well, yes, those are former hippies who now have quite bourgeois lifestyles but who still have the hair and the clothes you associate with the 60s. 🙂
The book is a lot better than I managed to transmit in the review. It is pure pleasure to read. I was very unhappy when it ended because I wanted to go on reading.
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Ok… I better watch out or N. will probably come down and kick my butt… but seriously.. do you have a twin sister who is exactly like you so I can take her out? 🙂
The first line “I never liked hippies”… made me laugh… just your classic, blunt style. Your point about wanting to punch the union organizer in the face was great because I too have seen people that are do-gooders but don’t get why they are so out of touch.
And ultimately, my favorite part of your post was actually your response in the comments about what an ally is:
” The word ally to me means that there is a group suffering from injustice, the representatives of that group get together and work out their goals and the ways of achieving them. Then people who don’t suffer from the same injustice but are bothered by it come to them and say, “What can I do to be of use to you?” That’s an ally.”
Love it. Perfect statement, with so much profound wisdom in general, but the reason I am so geeked is this is a very important reminder to me personally for a few business and personal passions/pursuits that I have. Simply asking.. “how can I help”…. and not pre-supposing the answer…. great stuff!
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“Ok… I better watch out or N. will probably come down and kick my butt… but seriously.. do you have a twin sister who is exactly like you so I can take her out?”
– Oh, thank you! I love compliments. 🙂
You see, people? Why don’t you follow Matt’s example and compliment me more? Huh? I’m kidding, of course. Compliments are an act of good will. 🙂
No, no twin sister, unfortunately. 🙂
“The first line “I never liked hippies”… made me laugh… just your classic, blunt style. Your point about wanting to punch the union organizer in the face was great because I too have seen people that are do-gooders but don’t get why they are so out of touch.”
– I love it when my writing style is appreciated! I feel happy now.
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“They were all so nice, welcoming, relaxed and good-natured that I knew there had to be something seriously wrong with them.”
First: HAHAHAAAAaahah! 🙂 You do make me laugh.
Second: I am those people you talk about. I come from money, was raised to care deeply (even “take action”) to help poor people, all those things. It’s hard for me to connect with all of those people now, though, that I recognize how intellectual and removed our *everything* was from real poverty.
I struggle with my identity a bit these days because I live in “poverty” now (food stamps, one car repair away from not making rent, etc.) but I know better now how *not* poor I am. It’s really weird for me.
That’s all. 🙂
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Hmm. This thread seems to be leading away from the book.
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It does seem that way.
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