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Review 4: I Love Dick by Chris Kraus

I Love Dick
I Love Dick is a book whose title feels like a deliberate trick to make you aware of other people looking at you when reading it on a train. I’m certain that it will have been a publishing decision to catch the eye. I look forward to seeing the same publisher’s follow-up hits, Eat All Puppies and I’m Not Racist, But…

Publishing chicanery aside, ILD is, in its through-line, about a woman who develops a mostly one-sided infatuation with a man called Dick (get it? The title was a phallusy). But it’s an indirect plotline, with plenty of other ruminations about gender, art, politics and more thrown in too.

“Plotline” may not be quite the correct term to use, given that the basis for the book is essentially autobiographical, and it reads like a memoir in the clothes of literature – or possibly the other way around. You’re certainly aware that these are real people being discussed, none more so than the author, Chris Kraus, who brings her whole self to bear on the page, with all the messiness that genuinely makes up a person. In a literary world where characters generally are well-rounded, with clearly defined motivations, this stands out strongly and is refreshing.

Kraus’ writing is clear and self-assured, which is just as well since she often sprints into complex philosophical discussions from a standing start. And what starts out as a series of letters and short stories that she and her husband directed to Dick ends up as a form of address to herself, letting her more fully explore her feelings towards Dick, her husband, herself and the world in a safe space. What starts as infatuation ends up almost replicating a therapist’s office, which is really neat to watch.

The book is at its best in the second half, with damning analyses of women’s dismissal from art history, right up to the 90s art worlds of New York and Los Angeles. She slowly comes to the realisation that she has sidelined herself to support her husband’s career across their whole marriage, and puts it into a wider pattern that is really powerful and important.

I have to be honest and say that I didn’t overly enjoy the book, but that’s mostly a matter of personal taste. Kraus describes and endorses an artworld bubble that to me comes over as self-absorbed and pretentious, but which others may find more interesting. I also can’t say I’m completely comfortable with the manner in which she pursues Dick. But the questions this raises about the lack of respect and representation of women in that same artworld are as vital as in any other industry, and equally the societal factors that dictate a woman’s behaviour in developing romantic attachments are rarely explored in this style or depth.


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