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A review by strawberrybeb
Valerie: or, The Faculty of Dreams by Sara Stridsberg
2.0
I struggled with this novel. I appreciate the exploration of the novel form (or insubordination of the form, as Katy Waldman describes in her review for The New Yorker), but the blurred lines between history and fiction ignited an ethical dilemma within me.
Stridsberg uses tension and emotion to paint the semi-fictional, semi-firsthand account (but not actually) of the life of Valerie Solanas. Solanas was a radical feminist known for the attempted murder of Andy Warhol and the consequent publication of SCUM Manifesto, her radical text, in the late 1960s. Solanas was diagnosed with schizophrenia after the attempted murder, and was eventually sentenced to three years in prison.
My ethical dilemma regarding Stridsberg’s writing is this: she explicitly states that not many facts are known about Solanas’ life, so most of her novel is fictionalized. This includes fictional conversations between Solanas and the fictional narrator who interviews her on her death bed, Solanas and her mother, Solanas and her psychiatrist, and Solanas and her lover. At what point does an author have the authority to fabricate a real person’s narrative, actions, and words? Especially with the controversial nature of Solanas’ life, actions, and politics?
Stridsberg has immense respect for Solanas, and Waldman defines the novel as an “extraordinary love letter to a radical feminist.” I couldn’t help but question the novel throughout my entire reading. Can Stridsberg fabricate the thoughts and actions of a real person with mental illness? Is Stridsberg attempting to reshape the memory or reputation of Solanas through a fictionalized narrative? Am I supposed to love Solanas, if this is indeed a love letter, despite her violent actions against others? Is this novel taking a side or is it purposely igniting ethical conflict within its readers?
This novel received international praise, and I can’t help but feel that I am misunderstanding it. But what would be the point of a novel if every reader had the same exact experience and takeaway from reading it? I don’t always need to find an answer.
Stridsberg uses tension and emotion to paint the semi-fictional, semi-firsthand account (but not actually) of the life of Valerie Solanas. Solanas was a radical feminist known for the attempted murder of Andy Warhol and the consequent publication of SCUM Manifesto, her radical text, in the late 1960s. Solanas was diagnosed with schizophrenia after the attempted murder, and was eventually sentenced to three years in prison.
My ethical dilemma regarding Stridsberg’s writing is this: she explicitly states that not many facts are known about Solanas’ life, so most of her novel is fictionalized. This includes fictional conversations between Solanas and the fictional narrator who interviews her on her death bed, Solanas and her mother, Solanas and her psychiatrist, and Solanas and her lover. At what point does an author have the authority to fabricate a real person’s narrative, actions, and words? Especially with the controversial nature of Solanas’ life, actions, and politics?
Stridsberg has immense respect for Solanas, and Waldman defines the novel as an “extraordinary love letter to a radical feminist.” I couldn’t help but question the novel throughout my entire reading. Can Stridsberg fabricate the thoughts and actions of a real person with mental illness? Is Stridsberg attempting to reshape the memory or reputation of Solanas through a fictionalized narrative? Am I supposed to love Solanas, if this is indeed a love letter, despite her violent actions against others? Is this novel taking a side or is it purposely igniting ethical conflict within its readers?
This novel received international praise, and I can’t help but feel that I am misunderstanding it. But what would be the point of a novel if every reader had the same exact experience and takeaway from reading it? I don’t always need to find an answer.