Mhh well. Taken entirely out of context that passage struck me as rather tender. Talking to your penis is a literary trope that goes back at least to the Romans (Apuleius, I think) if not the Greeks, and it's always when guys are seriously pissed off at it for uhh standing them up is not the pahrse I want, is it? A long farewell at least makes a change, and if it's appallingly sentimental, well, Bradbury always was.
I'm usually a fan of Bradbury's sentimentality--especially in Dandelion Wine, I think he has a gift for evoking nostalgia through rich and earnest description, layered on enough that you can feel wistful for the era he's describing even if you weren't alive yet.
But the utter seriousness of this is what skeeves me out the most. Bradbury's not known for his humor writing so maybe he didn't notice or care, but did no one at any point in the publishing process (or in professional published reviews of the book) put out a little red flag that maybe a lot of readers are going to take the talking penises from the wrong, hilarious perspective?
Now my impression was that penises did pop up out of nowhere, more or less. You're going about your daily routine and something rather unignorable pops up and says Hi! Pay attention to *me*.
I know American culture in general can't get serious about penises (puritanism + eternal youth = twelve year old attitudes) but that doesn't make the topic intrinsically hilarious. Good for Bradbury for bucking the unthinking 'penis haw haw haw' mindset, because really, isn't it about time the culture grew up? I think you'll find as the Boomers age that there'll be a lot more written about the sense of abandonment as our bodies desert us. And that includes the genitals, very importantly.
It's less the penises in general and much much more the penises that talk back and hold earnest metaphysical conversations about being Man's Best Friend. I am not twelve, but I still think that's ridiculous.
(shrug) It's OK to imagine dialogues with your computer or cat or car but ridiculous to imagine it with your penis? Fine. I don't have a penis but I wouldn't be surprised if men- who often personalize their penises- did indeed think of it as their best friend.
Metaphorical phallus glorification is far from a new course in Western literature. And I have tried to name my breasts on occasion (didn't stick), but I give full permission for anyone male or female to snicker at me about it.
I'm afraid I don't see why talking to a part of your body that's given you a lot of pleasure over the decades counts as glorification. In that passage at least- I haven't read the rest of the book and wouldn't be at all surprised if Bradbury thinks like Heinlein- it comes off as simple appreciation.
That there *is* a tradition of penis glorification is undeniable, but does that mean every positive reference to the penis is part of the tradition? Either disparage penises or be a phallocrat? How... limiting. Surely it's possible to simply like your penis (or your partner's) the way you like your legs or eyes. They're neat. They're useful. I'm grateful I have them: they make my life so much better. I don't think that constitutes glorification.
I've realized I cannot sustain specific discussion about the talking penis scene without going into detail about the context of sexual politics throughout the rest of the book, which you've said you haven't read yet, so I thank you for an interesting discussion and I am bowing out now.
There's a C18th porno by Diderot Les Bijoux Indiscrets (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_bijoux_indiscrets) featuring a magic ring which enables vaginas to talk, but I assume what they say (that entry is a bit sparse) is more on the lines of ribald gossip.
Have never come across fiction featuring menopausal woman in which she has conversations with her uterus/ovaries/fallopian tubes.
But as someone comments below, it's not that the guy talks to the willy, it's that the willy talks back. (I can only think of the riposte to Aunt Ada Doom's claim of having seen something nasty in the woodshed: 'And did it see you?').
In Brazil "Braulio" is a common pet name men use for their penises. A condom campaign (I think it was condoms) featured a talking penis named Braulio and had to be discontinued because (1) the Catholic Church doesn't want men to use condoms and (2) there are actually real men named Braulio (what were their parenets thinking?) who complained.
I seem to recall that one of the major magic-realists recently published something with a conversational penis, but I do not recall the details (Marquez?).
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I'll be over here gouging out my mind's eye, now.
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Taking it in context would require it to not have popped up suddenly from nowhere, I think
But the utter seriousness of this is what skeeves me out the most. Bradbury's not known for his humor writing so maybe he didn't notice or care, but did no one at any point in the publishing process (or in professional published reviews of the book) put out a little red flag that maybe a lot of readers are going to take the talking penises from the wrong, hilarious perspective?
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Re: Taking it in context would require it to not have popped up suddenly from nowhere, I think
I know American culture in general can't get serious about penises (puritanism + eternal youth = twelve year old attitudes) but that doesn't make the topic intrinsically hilarious. Good for Bradbury for bucking the unthinking 'penis haw haw haw' mindset, because really, isn't it about time the culture grew up? I think you'll find as the Boomers age that there'll be a lot more written about the sense of abandonment as our bodies desert us. And that includes the genitals, very importantly.
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Re: Taking it in context would require it to not have popped up suddenly from nowhere, I think
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Re: Taking it in context would require it to not have popped up suddenly from nowhere, I think
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That there *is* a tradition of penis glorification is undeniable, but does that mean every positive reference to the penis is part of the tradition? Either disparage penises or be a phallocrat? How... limiting. Surely it's possible to simply like your penis (or your partner's) the way you like your legs or eyes. They're neat. They're useful. I'm grateful I have them: they make my life so much better. I don't think that constitutes glorification.
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Re: Taking it in context would require it to not have popped up suddenly from nowhere, I think
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My partner claims "women have similar 'passing on womanhood' myths," but is unable to provide examples of similar, er, caliber.
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Have never come across fiction featuring menopausal woman in which she has conversations with her uterus/ovaries/fallopian tubes.
But as someone comments below, it's not that the guy talks to the willy, it's that the willy talks back. (I can only think of the riposte to Aunt Ada Doom's claim of having seen something nasty in the woodshed: 'And did it see you?').
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*Boggles*
**Gapes some more**
AS someone else said, it wouldn't be so bad -- oversentimental and a mite odd, but not bad -- if it didn't talk back.
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"We're friends?"
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Pretty fucking weird.
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I seem to recall that one of the major magic-realists recently published something with a conversational penis, but I do not recall the details (Marquez?).