Dear readers of Hesar, tell me: which domestic novels tell about marginalized women?
The caller asked, do I know in domestic literature descriptions of women who drink like men and are marginalized to know where to go in the stairwell or under the boat?
He had written one himself, but could not think of anything but Minna Canthin already written in the 1880s Trade-Lopon. A degenerate woman who rejects her child when she is taboo in Finland, she thought. Or can I prove something else?
I could not. William Kennedyn in the novel Rough (Ironweed, 1983) the father of the family drops his baby on the floor with fatal consequences, punishes himself for the rest of his life as a deekuna and finds a woman like him in an abandoned car. But no, Albany isn’t going to do this. It’s America.
A Tampere resident who died ten years ago Hannu Ahon the first novel for adults Sarah (1977) comes closer, but despite the title of the work, the perspective is on man. Similarly, the Swedish-Finnish Antti Jalavan in an autobiographical novel Asphalt flower (Asphalt blomman, 1980).
In both works, men fleeing an empty mind or contempt to heavily intoxication vainly covet a woman who sinks into the unreachable for her own cause or for her own reasons.
I guess it will be taboo, for half a century my head filled with books rubs its emptiness when one should come up with something more permanent than a student dock. Mikko Rimminen Even in a baggy novel (2004) are very much boys and more kind noses than even faceted losers.
That is, inappropriate plays that “women always fall in love with,” as the Juliet Jones Heart band sang (1988). The thought play from the song “Why Men Always Fall in Love with the Casual” sounds like a sheer cultural impossibility.
As well as the fact that the ‘Roused Rose’ (Horsma) (Irwin, 1988) would be handed out by a woman. This is how a man does it Vexi Salmen in the lyrics: “I’ve been on an unknown road for a week / I woke up in a hangover / no roses bloom and no scent there / according to one horsman I collected.”
The people liked it, nice rally. The seeming apology gesture of a lady professionally shoulder-to-shoulder would hardly be nice to anyone in any way.
Or could it be? At least Saara Pakkasvirran the drunken dementia moat on the stage of the Kom Theater laughed outrageously Reko Lundánin in the play Always someone gets lost (1998). Until the viewer realized that it was not a question of the elderly but of an early ruin.
Good essayist is able to search within its head on the basis of its reading memories, of which the most efficient computer performs a mere body of water – for example with concepts such as alcoholism, exclusion, drinking, dock and deeku combined with the word woman. Nothing found.
A columnist like me taps words on his computer misbehaving women, and results in an old television comedy series that has seen just such a name. At least Really great The comedians in the series would have deserved it too.
So, ladies and gentlemen, I turn to you: where are the marginalized women in our literature?
Please tell. It has to be them, not even in my musician’s work.
Called me theater director Liisa Isotalo. I wonder if a woman who has left her child and family, is seeking freedom, is kind-hearted, and drunk still has social or social rights, she pondered.
In the autobiographical novel of Isotalo I have come from something (Basam Books, 2020) I-narrator Paula only finds out in her twenties that she is an adopted child. Undercover work begins to establish the identity of the biological mother.
It turns out that the mother is loose, as was said in previous years, often killed time around Helsinki railway station, lived in night shelters and in the summer with men changing tents.
Eventually, the mother can be found on the stairs of Hakaniemi Hall.
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