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Sita
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Sita
Looking Back 30 Years |
review by Michelle Barber
I'm a little late. No, actually, I'm just young. I read Kate Millet's Sita for the first time this month.
I'm 25, cut me some slack.
Sita was published for the first time in 1976 and I bought it because I found the fat book (it's combined with Sexual Politics) on the shelves of Rivendell Books in Montpelier just as I heard the owner talking about how "Women's Studies" just don't sell anymore.
So, literally, 30 years after her publication date, Kate can now release the breath she's been holding, because here, finally, is my review of Sita. [As an aside, for all of you wondering: I've submitted this review to OITM because there are those of us lesbian/bi/trans women who sometimes fall upon lesbian classics a little later than the rest of the community, but regardless, are experiencing the book for the first time.] Sita is the autobiography of an affair Millet had with a slightly older woman over a number of years. The affair apparently started off hot and wild, entering Millet's life shortly after her hetero break-up with Fumio Yoshimura. The first time we encounter it, however, the relationship has reached an extremely unhealthy level.
Millet flies to California to be with Sita, only to find that "their" house is now overrun with Sita's family, a gaggle of daughters and son, in-laws, friends, and the occasional friend of the family who needs a place to crash. Millet is supposed to teach a course at Sita's university, but hesitates because she quickly realizes that Sita isn't exactly excited about a few months of monogamy. Thus, the psychological spiral that proceeds for the next 300-plus pages. Millet cancels the class, decides to leave, reschedules the class, chooses to stay, joins Sita for hope-filled, but ultimately disappointing mini-vacations, feeds the multitude of hungry people in the house, doodles in her journal day after day, tolerates Sita's mysterious nights away from home, and just generally puts up with a lot of grief from everyone in the house, including her lover, Sita.
This is one of the few books I've ever read that has actually made me angry with the author/main character. I had to put the book down several times because I was so incensed at Millet's ability to put up with such abuse - verbal and psychological - from her not-really-there partner. However, I'd leave the book for a few minutes, blow off some steam, and then rush right back to see if she ever got up the nerve to leave this witch. I'm not ruining much of the story by telling you that, no, she never really does ditch the witch. So what the reader gets to enjoy - and I do mean that - is an intense, journal-like mini-autobiography, closely detailing Millet's emotional insecurities, flashbacks, hopes, and dashed hopes page after page, peppered with bittersweet sexual encounters between Millet and Sita.
So why would any sane person read this book? I was hooked because the jacket cover stated that Sita committed suicide not long after the first publication.
Dang.
I had to find out the story after reading that. But I stuck with it because Millet eloquently combines stream-of-consciousness writing, journaling, and darn good prose to expose what many of us have experienced: the doubts, worries, and stress of having a partner who can simultaneously blow your mind and never really give you what you want. The book, Sita, can be as relevant, enjoyable, challenging, and entertaining for the generation of lesbians who might not even know who Kate Millet is, as the generation who read it in 1976 did.
So, go check out this book. Prove the bookstore owner wrong: "Women's Studies" isn't dead. And let this book make you angry, really angry. And then leave you with a knowing smile afterwards.
Michelle has a day job as Service-Learning Coordinator at Norwich University, but dabbles in other forms of media whenever possible. She has a radio show on 88.3 WNUB, brings international films to NU, and is a board member of Mountain Pride Media. She lives in Montpelier.