azdaema

I finally read Flowers in the Attic (and Petals on the Wind), and wow is there a lot to unpack there.

First in line for discussion, though, is this: Cathy reminds me of Cersei in a few ways that I think are really illuminating of why Flowers in the Attic has been so beloved of adolescence girls, and why I was so enchanted by Cersei in my own teen years. (I'm pretty sure I was 15 when I first came across Cersei, and I've heard 9–14 cited as main age of girls reading the Dollanager series.)

As I was thinking about Cathy and Cersei, a passage from a mostly-boring book I had to read back in high school came to me. It took me quite a while to remember where it came from, and even longer to find it again, but here it is: a description of a downed power line after a tornado:

The power line was loosing a fireball of sparks that melted the asphalt. […] The sparks were cooking the asphalt gummy; they were burning a hole. I watched the cable relax and sink into its own pit; I watched the yellow sparks pool and crackle around the cable's torn end and splash out of the pit […] "If you touch that," my father said, needlessly, "you're a goner." I had gone back to the house to get him so he could see this violent sight, this cable all but thrashing like a cobra and shooting a torrent of sparks. […] I stayed transfixed. Other neighborhood children showed up, looked at the cable shooting sparks, and wandered away […] I stood and watched the thick billion bolts swarm in the street.^[1]

That is what they bring to mind for me. That half terrifying, half awe-inspiring force of will; a cocktail of drive, ambition, and rage.

Defiance of Spirit

The thing that most struck me when I began reading Flowers—the big thing that nothing I had ever read about it had really captured—is just how salty this book is. It logically makes sense—it's the story of someone in terrible circumstances which she has no control over—but Cathy's impotent rage is an ongoing presence in the novel in a way that took me aback.

After their first day in the attic, 5-year-old twins Carrie and Cory physically attack the grandmother. This is a foolhardy attempt that is ultimately in vain, yet, Cathy and Chris both express their private admiration for this display of defiance and spirit.

There are a few explosive moments in Flowers, but the majority of it falls under what I call "defiance of spirit," relating to the concept of "how people rebel when they can't rebel."^[2] This is something that is very present in both Cathy and Cersei. (Both also have parts of their narrative about that they do when they finally can, but that comes later.) These are not outward displays of defiance. No one knows, which makes them, safe—but also, in some sense, ineffective. Yet this is how humans endure.

Today I will swallow my pride, bite back my anger, even playing at being docile. I do what needs to be done to get me through today. But I vow, someday, I will make it so I don't have to. "I will not cringe for them," and "There's going to come a day when you are going to be the helpless one, and I'm going to hold the whip in my hands."

As a teenage girl, this falls directly on a very deep-seated yearning, and is both comforting and invigorating.

Vanity

One of the hottest takes on I've seen on Flowers in the Attic comes from a thinkpiece by Autumn Whitefield-Madrano:

Plenty of books explicitly aimed at teens and preteens involve looks, but it tends to be some variation on the protagonist's dissatisfaction. […] Not so with Cathy: She's a babe, and she knows it, and it isn't because of any makeover. […] Cathy takes pride in her looks, something that we cheer her on about, especially when she's punished by the grandmother after she catches Cathy admiring herself naked in the mirror. […] In what other universe are girls cheered on for their vanity? Not just her pride or resilience with her body image or ability to recite "I'm beautiful just the way I am!" or whatever, but her downright vanity? It's the cardinal sin of girldom, thinking you're "all that." But Cathy does it. The only "mean girl" around to side-eye her is the grandmother […] and obviously we're going to be on Cathy's side here. We freakin' eat it up.^[3]

Self-loathing—particularly the physical kind—is near ubiquitous. If adolescent girls are to even stand a chance at not hating their bodies, they need to see an alternative modeled somewhere.

To my mind, vanity is somewhat separated from other forms of megalomania in that being hot is not a skill. Or at least, only sort of. They say we're our own harshest critics. Sometimes this is good: it pushes us to grow and improve; it protects us from the Dunning-Kruger effect.

When I think of bad overconfidence, the first place my mind goes is that certain subset of internet-educated men who think they know everything and thus are closed off to the idea of learning anything. I have been told, "Men apply for a job when they meet only 60% of the qualifications, but women apply only if they meet 100% of them," and, "Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man." Part of me takes these statements as they were intended to be taken, but another part of me says, "Thank god women are better than that! That's an abysmal standard to hold myself to—I don't want to be a mediocre white man!"

Yet—while bearing that wariness in mind—vanity is a term applied almost exclusively to women. I'll just say this: Having good self-image doesn't stop you from leaning how to do new things with your hair. And while there is some skill involve in the ability to style your own appearance, but there's also a large component of random chance. That is not something that can be improved by critiquing it, so what is there to be gained from said critique? While in it's extreme forms, narcissism can be dangerous and damaging, in the world we live in far more adolescent girls suffer from self-loathing than it's inverse, and I think most of us could benefit from a dose of vanity.

I clearly remember being in high school and thinking, "Why is literally every girl at my school pretty after some fashion except for me?" (Looking back, the overwhelming self-loathing and gayness of that sentiment both make me cringe.) Admittedly I did go to a very small high school (approx. 100 students) but it was true: every last one of the ~50 girls at my school were beautiful. Based on those statics you probably are too. So go ahead: be a little vain.

Why Incest?

You've been very patient while I pointedly ignored the connection that would probably be the first one to come to mind for most people: They both have a thing for their brothers.

It ties in on multiple points. They both have an over-abundance of passion and an under-abundance of self-denial. We spoke about vanity, which sets up the "you look like me and that turns me on" thing. It's wonderfully subversive in a way that's very appealing, particularly when you're young.

It is beautifully poetic—graceful even—but it is a love that will kill you in the end. Cersei calls it "a sweet poison;" Cathy calls it "Spanish moss."

If at twilight there was anything more beautiful and somehow romantically, sadly mystical than a live oak dripping with Spanish moss that would in the end kill its host, I'd yet to see it. Love that clung and killed.

But, beyond that, I think it's largely incidental.

↩ Annie Dillard, An American Childhood, 1987.
↩ Guy Gavriel Kay, Tigana, 1990.
↩ Autumn Whitefield-Madrano, "Flowers in the Attic" Is the Best Book Ever* And Here Is Why, 2014.