Donna M. Goldstein challenges much of what we think we know about the "culture of poverty." Drawing on more than a decade of experience in Brazil, Goldstein provides an intimate portrait of everyday life among the women of the favelas, or urban shantytowns. These women have created absurdist and black-humor storytelling practices in the face of trauma and tragedy. Goldstein helps us to understand that such joking and laughter is part of an emotional aesthetic that defines the sense of frustration and anomie endemic to the political and economic desperation of the shantytown.
I had to write a review of this for class - may as well post it up here as well:
In Laughter out of Place Donna Goldstein explores the variety of challenges faced by residents of Rio de Janeiro favelas and describes the black humour that, she argues, is a common response. Goldstein’s primary focus is on a favela resident pseudonymised as “Glória,” her extended family and friends and on the humorous stories they tell about their often traumatic circumstances. These stories are often in what I would personally consider “bad taste” and Goldstein clearly intends for them to shock the reader into deeper consideration of of the problems in Brazilian society. In thematically organised chapters, covering topics such as sexuality, childhood and domestic work, Goldstein combines broad historical and political context with a detailed ethnographic study of the lives of life in the Felicidade Eterna shantytown, underpinning her argument with interviews with shantytown residents.
Goldstein also provides autobiographical details about her experiences working in Brazil and her personal relationship with her subjects. I am not trained in ethnographic research but understand that such a degree of personal openness is not the norm for anthropological literature. These elements of autobiography both clarified certain points and raised questions for me about the process of ethnographic research. I was often unsure to what extent Goldstein was making a general observation about shantytown culture and to what extent these observations were narrowly about her subjects in Glória’s extended family. I also felt that Goldstein was at times overly partial to her subject. A lot of Glória’s behaviour over the course of the book, in particular the “teasing” of her children, was questionable but nly in the section on child discipline did Goldstein really criticise her actions.
From an ethical perspective I was uncomfortable with the way in which Goldstein had initially employed Glória as a domestic worker, befriended her in the course of her employment and came to be considered a filha blanca (“white daughter”) and part of the family. Although Goldstein does address this to an extent I was concerned whether there is a persisting power imbalance in a relationship that began in the context of domestic service. Further, many of the personal stories given were of an highly personal nature and could easily lead to recriminations from other members of the community. Goldstein is clear that Gloria was happy to participate in this subject so that her story could be heard. However, the description of Glória as an extremely dominant, and at times physically abusive, head of household raises questions that were not addressed in the book as to what extent junior members of the family were able to give fully informed consent to participate in the study.
Despite these concerns I found the focus on real individuals rather than a depersonalised category of “favela residents” extremely useful in attempting to understand the challenges faced by favela residents. Goldstein explores the root causes of present day inequality in Brazil and the intersecting racial, class and gender inequalities that perpetuate them in the present. This challenge to idealised popular images of a “racial democracy” with low levels of racial tension and an admirable degree of sexual liberation is a valuable perspective for a reader who is not otherwise familiar with the academic literature on Brazil.
The focus on blackly humorous storytelling also seems an original approach to take and was what originally led me to chose this title. Despite this I found these elements of the book to be interesting in parts but less successful overall. Some of the most interesting sections are those in which Goldstein describes the evolution of a story and the ways in which the family refined the way it was repeated and the details that were focused on to make it more absurd or amusing. However, I was not ultimately persuaded that black humour was as centrally important to understanding favela culture as Goldstein argues. Each chapter is illustrated with one or two examples of storytelling but the humorous stories illustrate the book’s exploration of the various elements that have shaped life in the favela rather than inform it. In the chapter, “The Aesthetics of Domination” the continuities between modern domestic workers' relationships with their employers and and those found under slavery are discussed with very little reference to the book’s argument about black humour. There is a brief section on domestic workers finding television soap operas about the problems of higher class Brazilians amusing but I don’t think a thorough explanation for why this might be was established. Black humour only becomes central in the final chapter; “What’s so Funny About Rape?” which describes how the family used this mode of storytelling to deal with a particularly harrowing home invasion. Even there it seemed to me that the storytelling was a less important response than Glória’s attempts to seek violent retribution for the attack from the favela’s dominant gang.
ALthough I felt the argument about black humour was underdeveloped I found Laughter out of Place an enjoyable and informative read. Goldstein’s writing is succinct, accessible and direct. More importantly, her degree of emotional engagement with the subject matter ensured that even sections with the potential to be dry, such as the typical working patterns of domestic workers, were compelling. Real life stories, theoretical analysis and insights from other academic works are generally well balanced. Although in some sections, such as the references to Eric Hobsbawm’s work on the Sicilian Mafia, the connection was not immediately clear. This may make the book less accessible to a general reader but should be for anyone studying this area looking for readings off the beaten track. The breadth of subjects under discussions, and the well chosen facts from the personal lives of Glória and her family used to illustrate the points under discussion, make this an excellent introduction to Brazilian studies.
Three and a half stars for what I consider to be the best piece of ethnographic writing I've read so far. There were several aspects of this book that I think set it apart from the other ethnographic works I've read to date. For one thing, Goldstein presented the clearest articulation of the value of ethnography, something I've been grappling with for a few months now. I understand intellectually the value that ethnography can bring, by giving a finer-grained texture to our understanding of issues, which would be absent if we relied on quantitative data alone. But the stuff I'd read by authors either seemed too indulgent and insular (Gandolfo's The City at its Limits comes to mind), or failed to move beyond the particular and the intimate, to show how people's stories related to the broader issues at play, or with sociological theory (Duneier's Sidewalk). Or they just lacked some kind of coherent framework or thesis (Jeffrey's Timepass) or the writing was not terribly accessible or the tone just off-putting (Wacquant's disdainful tone in Urban Outcasts).
Goldstein makes the point in the introduction that to understand a society, we cannot just look at the official version of history as this only affords us a certain (read: elite) point of view. The word of the "official ideologists" is not the same as the voice of the people. She quotes Peter Burke who argued that "popular culture eludes the historian because he is a literate, self-conscious modern man who may find it difficult to comprehend people unlike himself, and also because the evidence for their attitudes and values, hopes and fears is so fragmentary." It is ethnography that can give voice to this otherwise hidden population.
In Laughter Out of Place, Goldstein examines the lives of women in Brazilian favelas, through the experiences of Gloria - an inhabitant of Rio's so-called Felicidade Eterna - and her family and acquaintances. Goldstein does a good job giving the reader a sense of the personalities of these women, the challenges and travails they face and the attitude they adopt when faced with these challenges. Her writing is accessible, her tone even and matter of fact. She then sites the personal stories and histories of Gloria and her friends and family in the Brazil's broader social and cultural context, as well as sociological theory, looking at issues like class, sex and sexuality, childhood, and violence.
Some of the issues Goldstein tackled, like those of class and power as manifested in the employer-domestic worker relationship made me reflect about parallels in my own country - different continent, different races involved but the dynamics of the relationship, Goldstein's description of the attitudes, the prejudices and cultural assumptions seemed eerily familiar in some instances. A minor quibble I had with the book is that for a book titled Laughter Out of Place, and that asserts in the introduction that it seeks to address the role of laughter as a form of communication, sense-making, and even insurbordination and protest, very little of the book actually deals with the issue of humour and laughter in the favela. Under each chapter, Goldstein does include an anecdote about some tragic occurrence that Gloria and her friends seek to retell in a hilarious manner. But these anecdotes seem almost to be a garnish to the main course, an interesting story that is related somewhat to the main topic under discussion (class, sex, violence, etc), rather than a starting point from which to tackle the issue itself. Laughter doesn't really come across as the central element that holds the book together, but as an intriguing concept that the author thought could prove a good "hook" for her book. But 'tis a minor quibble since the book reads well, is well-structured and does give some genuinely interesting insights into poverty in Brazil, even if not through the lens of laughter.
Must read for anyone interested in Brazil. Although some things are well dated, this is an atemporal book. Certainly mandatory in any bachelor and master courses interested in Latin America.
Amazing ethnography. Goldstein smoothly blends her role as researcher, anthropologist, and friend in this book. This book is extremely relevant to anthropology and sociology scholars, but no matter your background, this is an insightful and moving read.
Great ethnography. Really great blend of theory and on the ground observation. Read this book then go re-watch City of God. You'll appreciate both so much more.
Using dark humor as a starting point, Goldstein discussed various aspects of the life of a lower-class Brazilian woman, Gloria, and her family. Throughout the book, Goldstein touched on a number of ways in which class, race, gender, and sexuality all combine and play into the suppression of lower-class citizens of shantytowns in Brazil.
The book opened with a dramatic and quite shocking remark from one of Gloria's daughters regarding the death of her brother, one of Gloria's sons. Despite the tragic circumstance surround his death, everyone, including the daughter, chose to focus on a certain humorous element to the event. This in turn allowed them to laugh about the event every time its story was retold. Goldstein then expanded upon that example and argued that while black humor—the act of joking about a tragic, terrible event or situation in life—can be seen as bad taste from an outsider's perspective, it is in fact a "coping mechanism" in which lower-class citizens of Brazil, especially black women, deal with, and even protest, the social suppression that they suffer.
With black humor as the opening point for the book, Goldstein further explored the history, social contexts, and class-based interactions taking place in Brazil. This included the racial distinction between dark- and light-skinned Brazilians, as well as the correlation between skin color and the potential for upward social mobility. Specifically, various examples discussed in the books were about, for example, dark-skinned women discouraged from entertainment professions, or men urged by their family to be in relationships with light-skinned women. Overall, there was an acknowledgement shared by all that being dark-skinned was socially inferior to being light-skinned, and it was especially true for women.
Another aspect to life in Brazil is the interaction between the justice system, specifically the police force, and the local gangs. In general, we would expect a clear distinction between their respective roles in society. Yet, in Brazil, police could be subjected to corruption, bribery, or they could simply be unwilling to enforce the law in poor areas where most citizens were either directly involved with the local gang, or related to someone who did. With the absence of an actual justice system, these areas were left to maintain their own social order. Surprisingly, the local gang was the ones that filled this role of maintaining a certain level of "judicial" order and therefore what the local turned to when there was a dispute or even danger. The term "bandit-cop" was used to indicate the interesting exchange of roles between the police force and the local gangs.
Gender and sexuality were extensively examined throughout the book. An interesting point that the author made was the difference between the children of different genders. Specifically, while Gloria's sons were encouraged to become more experienced with women and sex, her daughters were threatened with homelessness if they were to lose their virginity before marriage. Furthermore, a homeless child who is also a girl could be considered as tainted, and therefore natural to be experienced with and ready for sexual activities.
Keeping all of this in mind, the author argued that black humor and other humor-related actions were a method in which people took back control from the harsh reality they were living in: "Killer Pussy" was a control-indicating nickname that a woman obtained after a number of different men she was in relationships with were killed or simply died; another of Gloria's daughters used an actual event where she was raped as an excuse for her pregnancy, which actually was a result of her relationship with her boyfriend; finally, again, people laughed and joked about the death of their loved ones.
The book as a whole offers an extensive view into the harsh life of the poor in Brazil. One could have a general idea regarding what forces are at play within the context of lower-class living. The book also hinted at the relativism of humor and other social standards within our society.
Really interesting read about extreme poverty. Looks at the laughter at rape and death as the most confusing aspect of the favela. Humor does not mean rape is any less devastating, it is used as an act of insubordination to fight back in a small way.
Pretty easy read. Read this for one of my anthro classes. While it's good that she is illuminating readers on what is happening in Brazil, it is interesting that the cost is pretty pricey, and it does not offer solutions on how to combat the situation.
The stories are interesting, but the politics are sometimes quite dry. Overall, an interesting ethnography, but not something I would really read for the just the sake of reading.