The thing that I really noticed this time through Gaudy Night was the ontologically transformative power of The First Time. The world, you see, is divided into Women who have Done It, and Wirgins. And never the twain shall meet. Harriet is uniquely located between the two because, you see, although she never married, she Has a Past. Other than that, it’s made pretty clear that the Women have had experience at which the Wirgins can only guess. Oh, there’s one other in-between, but it’s pretty clear that she isn’t a Wirgin (as far as ontological status goes).
This struck me as odd for a variety of reasons. First of all, of course, there’s the assumption that the unmarried ladies are all, in fact, Wirgins, which by that time should not be assumed so readily. But really, that’s secondary to the real point, which is that the sort of Knowledge of which we speak here is not, after all, transformative. Nor, really, is the distinction between Having Done It and Not Having Done It so clear as all that. I mean, Clinton Rules aside, a curious and scientifically-minded woman can pretty nearly approximate the physical experience alone (or, of course, in pairs and groups).
And, of course, not all sex is the same, and not all sex is good sex. I found myself wondering whether, since Harriet’s experience was, let’s say, not altogether satisfactory, she had really known what sex was all about. I mean, if sex is somehow transformative, is seems likely that the transformative power is in the orgasm, yes? And it’s certainly possible to have had sex without experiencing orgasm, yes? If so, does the transformation not take place? Or is it not the little death that is transformative, but the potential for childbearing? If so, I would think Harriet would be out of that picture as well; Harriet would have been taking precautions, under the circumstances, and although of course the precautions could have failed, it’s hard to see that particular aspect of the experience being transformative in that way. Or is the operational aspect purely medical, with the breaking of the maidenhead having some biopsychoneuromojo? Does anyone remember if Harriet was brought up to ride horses?
I know, I know. None of this silliness is Ms. Sayers’sss’s’s fault. If anything, she deserves some credit for taking the prevailing view of virginity (and the loss thereof) and applying it to women who are not stereotypical, or if they are, are not stereotypical stereotypes, if you know what I mean. Neither whores nor madonnas, nor yet innocent girls. And a good deal of the mystique of virginity is still around, with various cults and anti-sex leagues pushing it for their own purposes in high schools. I think Ms. Sayers probably would have been pleased, on the whole, that her (scarcely original) metaphor of sex as knowledge put her on the opposite side of those arguing for both virginity and ignorance.
chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek,
-Vardibidian.
I know that you’re a Dick Francis fan, but I can’t remember if you’ve discussed this idea with regard to his work; he has an idea that you can tell, by looking at a woman’s eyes, whether she’s Done It or not. (And, again, that the Knowledge is transformative.) cf. Risk, High Stakes
I remember that, although I had forgotten that he mentions it more than once. I had a vague idea that it was a crazy notion of one of his character’s, rather than something we were supposed to believe is True.
And, of course, it’s bullshit. But then Dick Francis is a Conservative, in many ways a real one, and it isn’t or shouldn’t be surprising to discover a wacky old-fashioned idea informing his world-view.
Have you heard he’s got a new novel coming out this fall?
Thanks,
-V.
There’s a bit in Have His Carcase that indicates that Harriet does not know how to ride (and implies that she has never sat astride a horse).
I had not heard about a new Dick Francis. Thirty seconds of research later: it’s called “Under Orders” and comes out in the fall.
It will be interesting to compare: he apparently worked very closely with his wife Mary, and stopped writing when she died. (One wonders whether _she_ thought that you could tell from a woman’s eyes whether she was a wirgin.)
I’m reminded of the entry in Mary Anne Mohanraj’s FAQ, “Why do you write about sex so much,” specifically this:
In that view, there is a hidden kind of knowledge about others that can only be accessed through intimacy, though certainly not the same knowledge for any given knower or known.
I think that view is fairly common and fairly justified, but I actually think it’s not really … well … I don’t actually think that sex is sui generis. I would say that, for instance,
and
Although the privacy thing is important, I also think that
and
Furthermore, I suspect that there are people with whom I have … fooled around … that have not seen me naked in the way Ms. Mohanraj describes, either because she wasn’t looking or because I wasn’t showing. That was long ago, of course, but still, I expect that the experience is not altogether uncommon.
All of that said, it’s a very good reason to write about sex (as Ms. Mohanraj does very successfully) and does indicate a way in which there is a difference between a Wirgin and a Woman. Yet that experience is not necessarily restricted to Clinton Rules sex.
Thanks,
-V.
An eminently defensible position. I’m not sure that I agree with it in quite the way that you seem to, but I’m not sure that I disagree in the fundamentals.
Certainly not, but in the contexts that come up when we talk about Wirginity, the Clinton Rules are hardly the ones under discussion. (I think that’s what I feel is missing from your {sex, sleeping, showering, business, home repair} gloss: cultural context.) Maybe in some such a context a woman would be discouraged from witnessing any business dealings except those involving her husband, and maybe knowledge of business would also be seen as an occult difference between, say, the Birgin and the Woman.
One difference between the sleeping/showering and business/home-repair examples is that if a stranger walked in while we were showering or asleep (well, waking up, say), we’d react very differently than if a stranger walked in while we were engaged in business or home repair.