A man once observed that female wiring is like an Italian sportscar. If you're not a good mechanic, don't even think about opening the engine.
I just happen to be reading (again) TTLH by Virginia Woolf and your excellent observations here seemed to echo what I had just read - where Lily remembers that Charles Tansley had "sneered" as he said that, "Women can't paint, can't write" and she thinks of it while watching him struggling to assert himself intellectually. She could extend a helping hand, as is expected of women (because this is how they are wired) or she could could...not... "There is a code of behaviour, she knew, whose seventh article (it may be) says that on occasions of this sort it behooves the woman, whatever her own occupation may be, to go to the help of the young man opposite so that he may expose and relieve the thigh bones, the ribs, of his vanity, of his urgent desire to assert himself; as indeed it is their duty, she reflected, in her old maidenly fairness, to help us, suppose the Tube were to burst into flames. Then, she thought, I should certainly expect Mr. Tansley to get me out. But how would it be, she thought, if neither of us did either of these things? So she sat there smiling."
intelligent and well written - thank you Carrie!
Fantastic, Carrie. Including The Rape of Persephone photo added dimension and weight to your words, which were already so insightful.
Such a wonderful piece. Thank you!
Brava, Carrie! No one could say this better!
Yes! Thank god for E. Jean (and for VW's Lily Briscoe)!