"Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus"

By John Gray

(Reviewed by Thalia)

A friend came by to visit yesterday and mentioned that she had never read “Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus,” and was considering buying it, just out of curiosity.  In an effort to save a good friend from tossing her money on a less than worthy cause, I offered to dig through my bookshelf and give her my old copy, excited that I had finally found a way to get rid of the burden and open up the space.  I told her what I thought of it and handed it over gratefully, on the condition that she would never return it.

I bought the book years ago, when John Gray was busily penning his follow-up works, and the initial excitement over “Men are from Mars” had died down.  Impressed by Mr. Gray’s credentials (which, I’ve since learned, are possibly less than stellar after all – mail-order PhD, anyone?), and equally impressed by the apparent popularity of the book, I opened it with great enthusiasm, prepared to learn all I’d ever wanted to learn about communicating with the opposite sex.

Not even halfway through, I closed it for good.

I found Mr. Gray’s book to be a pompous pile of patronizing drivel, a thinly-disguised attempt to turn us all into Ward and June Cleaver.  My interpretation of Mr. Gray’s views boil down to women being overly-emotional, constantly needy creatures who need to be humored, and men as nomadic Neanderthals (insert grunting Tim Allen sound byte) who have a primal need for excessive time and space away from loved ones in order to remain human.  I can’t condemn the book as completely sexist, though, as it seems Mr. Gray views both men and women as equally selfish, ridiculous and reprehensible.

Not even those overly simplistic views managed to offend me enough to close the book.  No, I think what turned me off the most was the suggestion that if my man comes home at the end of the day and needs his “space”, then it’s my obligation to give it to him, without any regard to my own needs or those of other family members, and without time restraint. (No mention was made of bringing him a pipe and slippers, or wearing my best dress, prettiest pearls, and brightest smile, but I am assuming that is a given in this scenario).  Evidently, I should encourage the children to respect his time in his “cave” (a barf-worthy analogy; we won’t even get into any of the others, some of which have thankfully faded from memory), and I should hold off on any important discussion, decision, or less than pleasant discourse in an effort to ensure his overall happiness.  Only when he is good and ready will he emerge from his Man Cave, content and willing to take on all issues being held back in deference by the obviously needy and weepy woman he is encumbered by.

No wonder I was nauseous.

In return for indulging my hard-working, misunderstood man, apparently I will then be rewarded by his nodding enthusiastically, if emptily, in agreement to my endless whining about housework and inequality.  There will be no need to discuss anything, because if we women can simply learn to let men handle things only if and when they want to, then they will be kind enough to put up with our silly sniveling about mundane things like bills, children, health, etc.

What could make for a better relationship than all that?

If my friend makes it any further in the book than I did, I will applaud her fortitude.  I consider it to my credit that my own sense of horror at the idea of anyone’s written words being destroyed ensured that I didn’t burn or trash this book when I closed it.  Instead, I stuck it in the very back of a bookshelf, allowed it to collect dust, and prayed to forget.  Now that it has left the premises, perhaps I will.

This book is still available, used and in paperback, from Amazon.  The lowest price I could find was $4.13.  Personally, I’d put it toward a gallon of gas instead; I’d get a lot more mileage.

Rating:   

(one bell, only because it did give me a laugh or two)

Comments

[Dawn]

Love this review Thalia! It reminded me of the time my husband's company sent every 'spouse' a copy of the Sensuous Woman by J. I suppose we were being recruited to keep their employees happy and sated so they'd work long hours for little pay. Oh, the book was accompanied by flowers and if I remember right -- a roll of Saran wrap. They'd never get away with that now. It wasn't even a good idea then!

Some men aren't even from Mars. They're in a world of their own! Sounds like the author was one of them. :)

Good review. Thanks. I never really wondered what I was missing, but now I know.