A pugnacious and necessary pamphlet which makes a compelling case for the reclamation of a class dimension in contemporary feminism and a rejection of the superficial promises of liberation dangled by those who would confuse commodification with freedom. Nina Power is one of a generation of thinkers who have established themselves as exciting theorists and analysts by blogging (in this case over at infinite thought) while maintaining commitments both to serious intellectual enquiry the traditional way (PhDs in philosophy, lectureships and academic publishing) and to political activism (as in the recent attempt to articulate a feminist manifesto for the 21st century).
Some reviewers here seem to have read a different book. Although certainly tightly and passionately argued, 'One Dimensional Women' is also frequently subtle and even generous. The discussion of pornography is particularly free of dogmatism, and MacKinnon and Dworkin are dealt with fairly as well as critically. Moreover, Power eschews easy condemnation and plenty of effort is made to understand how and why the co-option of feminist thematics has taken such problematic forms. Yes, potential reader, it is true that some feminists are specifically named-and-shamed for their embracing of personal expression over collective struggle, but this is hardly enough to suggest some naive assault on the entirety of previously-existing feminist thought. On the contrary, the links established with currently under-represented strands of feminist thought suggests fidelity much more than a rebellious acting-out.
Which is not to say that this is entirely perfect - there are moments where repetition or over-description somewhat disrupt the flow. But this is more than balanced out by the immediacy of the tone and the urgency of the issues at stake. Where else could you cover the role of pleasure in feminism, the necessity of an account of economic exploitation for liberatory thought and Sarah Palin as ideological symptom in an afternoon's reading? Angry, but also surprising in its wit and its occasional flashes of hope, this is well worth your time and the money that will end up with The Fistula Foundation if you buy it. Which I suppose is a kind of consumerist feminism, but one that I can live with for now.