saturday august 29th
12: 18 p.m.
If I marry or, as is more likely, become a high-flying executive lesbian, I am never going to do housework.
Although not exactly attaining the same status of popularity in the U.S. as in in the U.K., the novel has risen to a certain level of the incompetence of American school boards. It has been challenged for inclusion in school libraries on the basis of a number of different reasons not the least because of the notoriously rebellious quality of the diarist, Georgia, toward certain—toward many—icons of institutionalized culture. What is particularly amusing about the challenges to the story is that there is much in the way of simple structural dynamics of Georgia’s narration that recalls the narration of infamous punk Alex’s narration in A Clockwork Orange.
The amusing part is that Georgia does not even begin to come close to being the character lacking character that is Alex. Mainly, the thing that seems to tick off reactionary types is stuff like this—the contemplative musing (and only musing)—of the very boy-crazy Georgia that she might not marry and might instead become a lesbian.
sunday august 23rd
midnight
Oh God, please, please don’t make me have to be a lesbian like Hairy Kate or Miss Stamp.
12:10 a.m.
What do lesbians do, anyway?
The narrator is not even sure what it means to be a lesbian, but also has learned she doesn’t want to become one. Just goes to show that for some people, even mentioning a topic that makes them personally uncomfortable is enough to urge them to make the material in which it is found difficult for anyone else to get their hands on. One of the more interesting ways a reader might traverse through this narrative is as an explorer coming across a New World. Ask yourself how many topics Georgia comments upon that might—just possibly might—move a parent or school board member or otherwise bored member of the community to outrage and then compile a list of the topics that one has never heard being discussed by an actual living thirteen-year-old girl.
sunday august 23rd
my bedroom
raining
10:00 a.m.
Talking of breasts, I’m worried that I may end up like the rest of the women in my family, with just the one bust, like a sort of shelf affair. Mum can balance things on hers when her hands are full—at parties, and so on; she can have a sandwich and drink and save a snack for later by putting it on her shelf. It’s very unattractive.
This, of course, is not good, either. While those who are opposed to lesbianism may not necessarily also be opposed to ample breasts—call it 50/50—there are those who simply opposed to young readers even knowing that such things as ample breasts exist. It would not be exactly unfair to suggest that Georgia is somewhat obsessed with breasts, but it would be a mistake to suggest her obsession has anything to do with lesbianism. They are not anatomical objects to be lusted after for the young diarist, but rather, to a point, something to be avoided. Genetics is a funny thing, isn’t it? While one born into a family of large-breasted women might well wish to become part of the lineage for one reason, another might steadfastly hold out hope genes aren’t predictable. For pretty much the same reason, actually. More to the point, this quote offers insight into the comical style of Georgia. She is a very funny young girl.
