Empowerment and self-determination are two words that come to mind when trying to describe this collection. This is not to say that a utopian workplace is portrayed herein. Exploitation has not been eradicated; equal pay is still the goal, not the reality. Work can often be boring and unfulfilling.But women here are not victims. These are strong women
Sandra Kay Martz founded Papier-Mache Press in 1984. Papier-Mache Press was known for publishing accessible books which, “presented important social issues through enduring works of beauty, grace, and strength,” and “created a bridge of understanding between the mainstream audience and those who might not otherwise be heard. As an editor and publisher, she has compiled several successful Papier-Mache Press anthologies including If I Had My Life to Live Over I Would Pick More Daisies, and I Am Becoming the Woman I’ve Wanted, a book that explores the powerful feelings women have about their bodies.
The old feminist anthologies are often more digestible than I think, this one included. (This one is from 1990.) Thoughtful but relatively light reading. Of particular interest to me was reading about various pink-collar jobs which no longer exist (e.g. entering bank deposits manually all day long) now that we all have 21st-century computers and the accompanying automations.
Bought this sometime in the 90s. Never read it. Finally did. It is delightfully of its time, late 80's feminism full strength. It's a bit uneven collection, some pieces better than others, and I liked all the poetry better than almost all the prose pieces.
The poem about the death of Marilyn McCusker, the first American woman to die in a coal mining accident, was a sad and loving tribute. She was a remarkable woman. The series of poems by Susan Jacobson under the title "Vital Signs" is a tremendous portrait of a nursing assistant's hospital work in an orthopedic/trauma center. If you have spent any amount of time in a hospital, for yourself or a loved one, you will recognize this truly caring caregiver immediately.
Toni de Bonneval's short story "A Wellesley Girl" is a slow-crawling horror tale of Maura, a middle-aged woman whose husband has left her, and whose "last paid employment was in the 60s," out on a day of job interviews. The interviewers all assure her she is far too qualified to work for them or to enter training programs (those are for young people!) while at the same time letting her know that she is too old and unskilled to be employable. Each interview ends with Maura and the interviewer colluding in a fiction about the great prospects waiting for her elsewhere. We know before Maura does that she is going to end as a saleslady in a department store, yet when she swallows her disappointment, despair, and pride and fills out the applications, we grieve for her. de Bonneval does a wonderful job of employing the weather and landscape in the service of the story.
One of my favorite poems was the brief "These Hips by Kate Braid: Some hips are made for bearing children, built like stools square and easy, right for the passage of birth.
Others are built like mine. A child's head might never pass but load me up with two-by-fours and watch me bear.
When the men carry sacks of concrete they hold them high, like boys. I bear mine low, like a girl on small, strong hips built for the birth of buildings.
Many of the poems in the first part of the book are by/about women in blue collar jobs; there are also poems about women in kitchens, women caring for children, women making pots, quilting, sewing, etc. In all, despite the unevenness of the collection, it is a wonderful read, because of the overall view it gives of women's work and women at work, and of the glimpse of this particular time period. I had thought to read it and given it away as I'm in the midst of culling my book collection but now I kind of want to keep it!
I've had the pleasure of reviewing this book: Looser, Devoney. Rev. of If I Had A Hammer: Women’s Work In Poetry, Fiction, and Photographs, ed. Sandra Martz. the minnesota review 37 (1991): 164–67. Print.