Another amazing book by Marilyn French. This one really has me reeling. I'm blown away by how much I relate to it. There are so many pieces I would like to talk about: how our lives really are different as women, that men are the main source of grief for women (but it's taboo to talk about that), the ambivalence of mother-daughter relationships, on and on and on.

The narrator is a photographer working for a major magazine in the early sixties. She is clearly breaking ground as a woman.

"I had had enough wits about me to set the interview a week away. This gave me time to go through all my drawers, considering. I rejected all the pictures of angry or dismayed mothers, and most of those that were interesting, or close-ups of unusual objects like a stack of sewer pipes or a train wheel, or the inside of an iris. All baby pictures were taboo. I ended with a set showing men working, machines, and a few splendid landscapes. After all, I knew what World liked. I saw it every week in the Herald waiting room It was the best picture magazine--and the best paying--in the world. At the time, I regret to say, I did not think at all about concealed censorship; about how, if you want to get ahead in the world, you take your cue from what is established, and shoot the things the establishment enjoys seeing, and avoid those it does not."

Do we still censor ourselves as women? Is our world still somehow "less" than the world of men?