Fear of Flying

“I closed it gently. No Nora-slamming the door routine to undercut the effect.”

Isadora alludes to Nora Helmer, the protagonist of Henrik Ibsen’s play, A Doll’s House (1879), who rejects her husband after she realizes that he does not love her as she loves him. The play ends when Nora bangs the door of their flat closed after choosing herself over him. When Isadora fires her analyst for being a misogynist, she intentionally closes the door softly, demonstrating her self-control and refusing to confirm his accusation that she is aggressive and angry, evidence of The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny.

“I fell in love with Bennett partly because he had the cleanest balls I’d ever tasted. Hairless and he practically never sweats. You could (if you wanted) eat off his asshole (like my grandmother’s kitchen floor).”

Isadora’s description of her second husband makes him seem somewhat unreal, just like the ideal represented by the superego. To be so clean, hairless, and sweat-free all the time seems like an impossible ideal, as does the woman he clearly wishes Isadora could be. She, too, longs to reach an impossible ideal, and Bennett’s inhuman spotlessness seems to promise that this is possible.

“A little gold chain chained my mother to her mother, and me to my mother. All our unhappiness was strung along the same (rapidly tarnishing) gold chain.”

Isadora uses a metaphor that emphasizes how limited women’s lives can be as well as how they participate in reproducing these societal limitations. Jude was unsuccessful at being a mother and an artist, so she tells Isadora that it simply isn’t possible. Statements like this, as well as Bennett’s disappointment whenever Isadora falls short of the “ideal woman,” help to account for The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny. They also curtail Female Desire and the Pursuit of Autonomy by making some possibilities seem out of reach.

“‘Women cannot possibly do both,’ she said, ‘you’ve got to choose. Either be an artist or have children.’”

Jude’s warning to Isadora points to The Prevalence of Sexist Double Standards. While artists can be fathers, Jude believes that they cannot be mothers; motherhood is incompatible with art in a way that fatherhood is not. Jude uncritically passes on to her daughter the expectation that motherhood supersedes all other forms of work. This contributes to The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny, especially when Isadora’s own wishes run counter to society’s.

“Though I’ve no doubt that being single is just as lonely for a man, it doesn’t have the added extra wallop of being downright dangerous, and it doesn’t automatically imply poverty and the unquestioned status of a social pariah.”

Isadora points out that being single is a very different experience for women than it is for men; this is one example of The Prevalence of Sexist Double Standards. Men might feel lonely when they’re single, just like women might, but being single doesn’t make them seem less desirable as a partner, friend, or relative. People don’t make assumptions about a single man’s ability to support himself or wonder whether a woman rejected him; on the other hand, such assumptions are commonplace when one encounters a single woman.

“No ‘lady writer’ subjects for me. I was going to have battles and bullfights, and jungle safaris. Only I didn’t know a damn thing about battles and bullfights and jungle safaris (and neither do most men). I languished in utter frustration, thinking that the subjects I knew about were ‘trivial’ and ‘feminine’—while the subjects I knew nothing of were ‘profound’ and ‘masculine.’”

Isadora feels inadequate as a writer for a long time, in part because she doubts the value and significance of the subjects upon which she is expert. Her belief in the triviality of “feminine” knowledge points to The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny.

“I was a little appalled at my own promiscuity, that I could go from one man to another and feel so glowing and intoxicated. I knew I would have to pay for it later with the guilt and misery which I alone know how to give myself in such good measure.”

This line reveals The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny. Isadora is aware that, as guilty and miserable as others make her feel for falling short of their expectations or some womanly ideal, she is uniquely qualified to make herself feel even worse. She also uses the word “promiscuity” to characterize her behavior: a word with an overtly negative and judgmental connotation.

“[N]either one of these attitudes made any sense and I knew it. Neither dominating nor being dominated. Neither bitchiness nor servility. Both were traps. Both led nowhere except toward the loneliness both were designed to avoid.”

Isadora has been taught that Female Desire and the Pursuit of Autonomy are essentially unattractive, even distasteful. Whenever she tries to assume control of her life and her decisions, she is disappointed. At the same time, whenever she tries to relinquish control of her life, she feels discontented. Happiness feels like a fantasy when all the options meant to bring her happiness do the reverse.

“The more I hated myself, the more I hated myself for hating myself. It was hopeless.”

This statement suggests that Isadora gets trapped in a cycle of self-loathing that compounds, despite her awareness of the process. She understands that neither acting aggressively nor submissively brings her happiness; pursuing independence and behaving obediently are equally unfulfilling. This, again, highlights The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny.

“Why did Adrian’s arguments speak to my very bones?”

Isadora’s question suggests her sense of fragmentation, as Bennett appeals to her desire for stability parts of her while Adrian appeals to her erotic impulses. She uses her “bones” as a metonymy for her soul, her essence as a person, as her soul and her bones are equally vital to her life. Isadora wants excitement and passion, which Adrian also prizes, but Bennett makes her feel guilty and wrong for wanting these as much as, or more than, the stability he offers.

“It was all so complicated. And it seemed so much more complicated for women. Basically, I think I was furious with my mother for not teaching me how to be a woman, for not teaching me how to make peace between the raging hunger in my cunt and the hunger in my head.”

Isadora points out another disparity between men and women. Life seems inevitably more complicated for women because someone needs to teach girls how to be women, and yet these teachings often contradict or confuse, or they are simply not forthcoming. Isadora’s mother can’t very well teach her to pursue whatever she desires because society simply doesn’t allow for this.

“‘Freedom is an illusion,’ Bennett would have said […] and, in a way, I too would have agreed. Sanity, moderation, hard work, stability…I believed in them too. But what was that other voice inside of me which kept urging me on toward zipless fucks, and speeding cars and endless wet kisses and guts full of danger? What was that other voice which kept calling me coward! and egging me on to burn my bridges, to swallow the poison in one gulp instead of drop by drop, to go down into the bottom of my fear and see if I could pull myself up?”

This description of Isadora’s conflicting feelings dramatizes the push-and-pull she feels between her superego and id, symbolized by Bennett and Adrian, respectively. She is inclined to agree with Bennett about moderation and hard work, but she also feels driven by a desire for danger, excitement, and passion. She doesn’t want to be a coward, to run in fear from risky possibilities. She wants both, and this typifies the struggle, Isadora suggests, that all women feel.

“At times it is strangely sedative to know the extent of your own powerlessness.”

After Isadora learned that Brian was diagnosed as “psychotic,” she felt relief, as his behavior could not be construed as her fault; she needn’t feel guilty for it because it was out of her control. Her word choice suggests that she is soothed by the knowledge that she had no control over the situation; however, her use of the second-person pronoun suggests that she is distressed by this as well. Anything could have happened, and that is as frightening as it is liberating.

“I feel sorry for you. You’re so damned weak. You never did have any guts […] Go, […] get thee to a nunnery, Ophelia. Drown yourself for all I care—”

Although Brian raped and attempted to murder Isadora, he suggests that she betrayed him, just as Hamlet accused Ophelia of betraying him in Shakespeare’s play. In Hamlet, the titular character chooses to believe that Ophelia turned on him, though she did not, and he treats her horribly, despite his avowed love for her. Neither Isadora nor Ophelia betrayed her man, though both are blamed for it. This allusion further suggests that men are responsible for The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny.

“I was nobody’s baby now. Liberated. Utterly free. It was the most terrifying sensation I’d ever known in my life. Like teetering on the edge of the Grand Canyon and hoping you’d learn to fly before you hit bottom.”

After Isadora learns of Adrian’s hypocrisy, that he’s had plans to return to his wife and children all along, she feels that she’s been liberated from all expectations: Bennett’s and Adrian’s. She embraces this feeling, though it terrifies her. She connects it to flight, a symbol of the independence (and lack of security) that scares her. Again, her use of the second person perspective conveys her fear and discomfort with this truth.

“I always wondered why I felt so sullied and spat upon and furious. It was supposed to be flattering. It was supposed to prove my womanliness […] There must be something wrong with me I thought […] Why wasn’t I grateful for being hunted?”

After Adrian leaves her in Paris, Isadora remembers being catcalled by men on the street. She knows that the men expected her to feel flattered by the attention, though she never did. She wonders why the notice did not produce its intended effect, but this is followed immediately by the recognition that they were treating her like prey. Still, before she arrives at this conclusion, her assumption that something is the matter with her (and not them) conveys The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny.

“But suppose I had approached one of these men, and suppose he had rejected me, looked away, shown disgust or revulsion. What then? I would have immediately taken the rejection to heart, believed myself in the wrong, blamed myself for being an evil woman, a whore, a slut, a disturber of the peace…More to the point, I would have immediately blamed my own unattractiveness, not the man’s reluctance […] Yet a man assumes that a woman’s refusal is just part of a game.”

Isadora considers how she would act if roles were reversed. If she flirted with a man and he rejected her, she would automatically assume that she was somehow in the wrong, that she’d made an error in judgment or was unattractive. This is not what men think, though; when a woman rejects them, they treat her as though she’s done something wrong. This is another example of The Prevalence of Sexist Double Standards.

“When a man says no, it’s no. When a woman says no, it’s yes, or at least maybe.”

This statement highlights The Prevalence of Sexist Double Standards. When a man says no to something, no one questions his sincerity. However, when a woman says no to a man, he often believes that she’s being coquettish: that she really wants to say yes and needs only to be convinced to do so. Such a belief is given greater power when supplemented by the claim that rape isn’t real, an argument Isadora recalls clearly.

“Men complained that women were cold, unresponsive, frigid…They wanted their women wanton. They wanted their women wild. Now women were finally learning to be wanton and wild—and what happened? The men wilted. It was hopeless.”

Isadora believes that men are primarily responsible for women’s inner critics and the sexual double standards that support them. Women, she thinks, have adapted to men’s expectations and hopes, becoming more forthright and sexually bolder. In response, men complain about the change and feel emasculated. Women, it seems, cannot win. When they give men what they want—as Isadora tries to do with Adrian—men backpedal (e.g., when Adrian experiences erectile dysfunction and eventually abandons her to return to safety); when they don’t give men what they want, women are criticized and insulted.

“Every extra ounce was proof of my own weakness and sloth and self-indulgence. Every extra ounce proved how right I was to loathe myself, how vile and disgusting I was.”

In addition to being hard on herself emotionally, Isadora is also deeply critical of her body. She feels that the defects she perceives in it are physical manifestations of her internal flaws. This is yet another way in which the novel reveals The Pervasiveness of Internalized Misogyny. No aspect of her person is immune to assessment and condemnation.

“It dawned on me how funny that episode had been. My zipless fuck! My stranger on a train! Here I’d been offered my very own fantasy […] and instead of turning me on, it had revolted me!”

When Isadora travels, alone, from Paris to London, she is presented with the opportunity to have a true “zipless fuck”: the kind about which she’s long fantasized. However, instead of feeling aroused or even remotely curious about such an encounter, she feels absolutely repulsed by the train attendant’s touch. This is a good indication of her dynamism because her reaction is completely involuntary.

“(It’s easy to be an intellectual with a mute wife.) What did I mean? I meant myself of course. I meant that genuine permissiveness promotes independence. I meant that I was determined to take my fate in my own hands. I meant that I was going to stop being a schoolgirl.”

On the train to London, Isadora converses with a pedantic man whose wife never speaks, but only silently feeds their baby. This allows him to focus completely on his conversation without interruption by any other responsibility. Although he clearly expects Isadora to agree with his stance on the American education system, she does not, and she says so. She recognizes her old self in the silent wife who sits meekly while her husband expounds his philosophy, and she doesn’t like it. So, she expresses her real opinion—which conflicts with the man’s—and vows that she will never behave this way with her husband again.

“A nice body. Mine. I decided to keep it.”

By the time Isadora reaches London, the negative feelings she’s long held about her own body have transformed into approval, even appreciation. This change suggests that a woman can reduce, if not eliminate, her inner critic by focusing on loving herself instead of awaiting the love of another. Her self-acceptance is further evidence that she is a dynamic character.