Editor Amy Scholder, longtime editor of two of my favorite presses (Feminist Press and Seven Stories Press), invites us to take a look into the smarter side of celebrity obsession in her newest collection of essays, Icon. From the age of six, watching her mother cry over Judy Garland’s death, growing up with an obsession with the Manson family’s girls, talking to a friend and colleague about the women’s love of Amy Winehouse only to discover the person had only ever heard a single Winehouse song, Scholder says “I’ve always thought that the weirdest thing about celebrity culture is the level of intimacy we feel with people we don’t know.”
Celebrity worship is something I’ve been struggling with a lot lately – not so much that I’m on the side of worship, but I’m in a place where I struggle to allow myself to admire people I’ve yet to met no matter how big a fan I am of their music or their writing or their social activism, etc. There’s something about creative output – it ultimately shows a person’s BEST. It’s easy to become obsessed with that best part of them and forget that surrounding it is this messy, slightly above average, human like the rest of us.
Luckily, the authors of Icon’s essays have moved beyond sophomoric love affairs with celebrities the way people grow out of creating Taylor Swift fan blogs or dedicating Twitter accounts to Kim Kardashian. Theirs is mainly an academic love; a love of the, importantly, output of the celebrities rather than a shameless obsession of the person themselves.
A short summary of the authors involved / the icons profiled: Mary Gaitskill waxes poetic on the mysterious Linda Lovelace, and herself is later admired by Zoe Pilger. Riot Grrrl Johanna Fateman of Le Tigre outlines her personal plans to write an entirely separate book about tough and gritty Andrea Dworkin. Jill Nelsons (author of Sexual Healing) reflects on her startings of sexual freedom as narrated through Aretha Franklin’s song “Respect.” Rick Moody, cited music laymen fanatic thanks to his book On Celestial Music, again takes an in depth look on Karen Dalton. Hanne Blank (A Girl’s Gotta Eat) wonders whether or not her icon MFK Fisher’s food writing and acclaim will ever be something she herself can achieve without Fisher’s thin privilege. Danielle Henderson (creator of Feminist Ryan Gosling) talks about the moment of reading bell hooks when feminism finally felt like a space open for her as well. Trans-author Justin Vivian Bond remembers how as a teen she would project herself and her own chances to create the beautiful life she craved onto Este Lauder model Karen Graham. Green Girl author Kate Zambreno wanders through New York, seeking for the Edie Sedgwicks running their nylons through the town, the Kathy Acker’s taking a stand.
What really makes Icon work is the way each author takes on explaining their icon, what they meant and how they’ll live on. Some authors, like Rick Moody and Mary Gaitskill, take a straight biographical look into their icons. Danielle Henderson and Zoe Pilger harldy look into the lives of their icons at all, focusing solely on the way their written words touched their lives. Johanna Fateman, Jill Nelson and Justin Vivian Bond trace the connections between themselves and their icons, where their stories connect and what their icons have taught them. Hanne Blank does almost the opposite, at first professing her love for MFK Fisher, then realizing the advantages given to Fisher because of her beauty are mountains she herself may never be able to overcome. Kate Zambreno, perhaps most uniquely of all, holds a written séance with Kathy Acker, attempting to talk to her icon, to learn how the women avoiding selling in to literary boredom and stale publishing.
Celebrity worship is messy. As many of the authors admit, even our greatest heroes say things and do things we can’t agree with. Even our icons let us down. The fact of the matter is, our heroes, whether they be the same icons represented here or even the authors of the essays themselves, are all messy people, only more accomplished than us.