Perhaps one of the best kinds of friends one can ask for in life is the friend who always has books to recommend, books you’ve never even heard of. Through the fortunate recommendation of a friend, I discovered Valerie Shore’s 1987 non-fiction book, “The Compleat Woman.”
The spelling alone is enough to tantalize. What does it mean? Shore, a twice-married journalist and mother of four, set out to understand how 20-some-odd women managed to “have it all,” by which is meant marriage, motherhood, and career. In the introduction, Shore writes that her interview subjects are “‘compleat’ in the sense that each has had a lasting marriage, become a mother at least three times, and managed to achieve some distinction outside the home as well.” By a “lasting marriage,” Shore further clarifies that the couple were married for at least 25 years.
The interviews are from an insular world revolving around the “Who’s Who” of the British upper crust and professionally successful in the latter half of the 20th century. They are as a group, Shore observes, “not complacent.” Though there is no homogeneity of chosen profession, political opinion, creed, or temperament, the women are united in their ability to accomplish many different successes through a full life. Although this sample is taken from a small, interconnected group of intellectuals and professionals, most of them born about 100 years ago, there is timeless wisdom in the experiences that they relate.
Shore describes them collectively as women along the lines of Mary Browne in a portrait by Francis Wheatley, chosen as the eccentric cover art. Browne’s husband is off to the side while she dominates the scene “with her fishing rod and her rather excessive hat.” There is something quite fun about the premise, and the women interviewed offer lively and varied perspectives on what it means to be a woman, a wife, a mother, and a successful professional.
A couple of interviews that stood out to me included Fay Weldon, novelist, who observed, “the great advantage of not having children is that you can go on believing you’re a nice person. You can remain convinced that you are a decent, civilized, pleasant human being. It’s when you have children that you realise how wars start.”
She continued, “This is the great problem the new mother has, along with all the others: this secret knowledge. It’s why she gets into a terrible state. She finds she would rather sleep, and just let the baby cry. And this is what it’s like ever after: you don’t sleep, because the baby needs you. You are not full of pure love after all; it is mixed with resentment.”
Though hyperbolic, there is some truth in her statement, a sober sense of realism about the whole undertaking of motherhood.
Saddled with the responsibility of children and taking on the demands of a career, how does a mere mortal woman manage? Journalist Anne Blythe Munro stated, “It is no use grumbling. You just have to get on with your life: you selected it! Nobody made you have all those children and agree to do that job! So you’re an awful fool if you take on work you can’t cope with.”
That’s splendid! Puts things into perspective. Once you accept that there’s no complaining your way out of the situation you’ve created and you realize you are finite, there is a necessary limiting what you do and care about. That is not always a bad thing!
Blythe Munro offers great practical wisdom. While she did have some domestic help, it was limited. She told Shore, “But I always felt that so long as the children were well-fed, warm and clean before they went to bed, and so long as I could walk across the room without breaking my neck, I was winning. ‘Keep the centre of the floor clear’ is still my recipe for family sanity.”
There is much more I could write about “The Compleat Woman,” and perhaps I will. It’s interesting to look around the contemporary landscape for “compleat women.” It’s a fun concept embodied by real women who did not do anything perfectly but managed to do many different things well.
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