Reviews Round-up

The critics' verdicts on Raymond and Tallis, Bergner and Adichie.

What Do Women Want?: Adventures in the Science of Female Desire by Daniel Bergner

Daniel Bergner’s ‘What Do Women Want?’ is an in-depth and unique take on female desire. Bergner uses scientific experiments and studies, anecdotal evidence, and interviews with experts in the field of arousal (sexoligists, behavioural scientists, and psychologists), to enlighten his thesis concerning the relationship between women and themes such as monogamy, intimacy, porn, narcissism and sex. Contrary to conventional wisdom, Bergner argues that women are naturally the less monogamous and more desire-driven than men and in the process forces the reader to challenge many common conceptions about the sexuality of the sexes.

Emma Brockes for The Guardian suggests that Bergner’s exposition of female desire is hardly a “new narrative” and criticises the implied causation in certain examples which extrapolate from the behaviour of rats and monkeys to human nature, saying they “can sometimes feel a bit flippant”. In addition, Brockes complains that “the potted social histories are cursory”, and dismisses Bergner’s superficial analysis of social or political context as “practically meaningless”. That said, Brockes concedes that there are “good sections” on the subjects of female mental health and reluctantly admits that Bergner’s discussion on the “difficulty of sustaining interest in a partner over the course of a long marriage” is “touching”.

Zoe Williams, also for The Guardian, looks at the disconcerting ramifications of Bergner’s findings and remarks that “the idea that fidelity has no natural defender” is somewhat unnerving. Moreover, Williams comments that it “blows [her] mind a little bit” that Bergner’s conclusions about female sexual energy were not arrived at sooner.

At the New York Times, Elain Blair, like Brockes, is sceptical of the task Bergner has set himself. She comments that despite primatologists finding evidence “that many kinds of female primates initiated sex, while their male counterparts pretty much sat around waiting for the ladies to take an interest in their erections”, in fact “[h]uman arousal and sexual behaviour are difficult to study in a lab.” Blair concludes that Bergner “seems to get lost in the sexiness of it all” – sometimes letting vaginal blood vessels “throb” with arousal - and states that “[t]here is something drastically under-theorized about what all these tentative findings and speculations…might mean taken together.”

NHS SOS: How the NHS Was Betrayed and How We Can Save It Edited by Jacky Davis and Raymond Tallis

This summer marks the 65th anniversary of the British National Health Service and coincides with the implementation of a series of far-reaching reforms. NHS SOS, edited by Jacky Davis, a consultant radiologist and co-chair of the NHS Consultants' Association, and Professor Raymond Tallis, a British polymath who specializes in geriatric care, depicts the “dismemberment” of the NHS as an institution and provides a manifesto for the retraction and reversal of Lansley’s reforms, paying particular attention to the effects of the Health and Social Care Act 2012.

The New Statesman’s Richard Horton writes that NHS SOS “lucidly describes” the way in which Lansley “infiltrated the Department of Health, ignored the advice of his most senior civil servants and implanted his plan to end more than 60 years of consensus.” Horton elucidates upon the “three catastrophic failures” which Tallis and Davis claim resulted in the “end of the NHS”. Firstly, Labour MPs are said to be “culpable” for having effectively “prepared the NHS for privatization”. Then Horton switches the onus to the media’s failure to ask the right questions concerning Lansley’s reforms. Finally Horton laments the “most atrocious betrayal of all”, citing the BMA’s policy of appeasement as the final nail in the NHS’s coffin. Horton calls NHS SOS “a painful story” but resolves that it is “one that we must confront if we are to have any hope of reclaiming what was once ours”.

Bernadette Hyland at the Morning Star is of the opinion that NHS SOS “is a difficult book to read” because “In chapter after chapter we see the way in which determined neoliberals have hacked away at a cherished British institution.” Despite calling NHS SOS a “devastating read”, Hyland achieves a more optimistic outlook than Horton, deciding that “the purpose of the book is to bring together the various individuals and organisations that are horrified by the prospect of the new NHS” and emphasising that “A whole section at the end of the book gives advice on what people can do to save the NHS.”

In a similar vein, Yvonne Roberts, writing for The Observer, provides an impassioned analysis of the nuances contained in Section 75 of the Health and Social Care Act, which removes the Health Secretary’s duty to “secure or provide” free of change “a comprehensive health service for the prevention, diagnoses and treatment of illness”, leaving behind only a duty to “promote”. Roberts, like Hyland, accentuates the optimistic normative ending of the book and advises her readers to “Buy the book, read that chapter, act” otherwise, in her words, “we'll all be sorry when she's dead and gone – and 90% of the country can't afford to be sick.”

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

In her third novel “Americanah”, former winner of the Orange Prize Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, follows the lives of two former sweethearts from modern-day Nigeria, Ifemelu and her first love Obinze. As a student, Ifemelu makes the decision to relocate and continue her studies in the U.S. Here she suffers a series of tribulations, eventually falling into prostitution. Obinze opts to move to the U.K. where he too is faced with trying times, and finds himself cleaning toilets before he is deported. Adichie tackles pressing issues regarding race, having acknowledged that many of the experiences faced by Ifemelu were very similar to her own. 

Claire Lowdon, Assistant Editor at Areté, unravelled “Americanah” for the New Statesman. Although in parts, examples of racial torments feel “like an anthology of examples - an agglomeration rather than an arrangement”, Adichie is undoubtedly insightful. Her observations “are always sharp, intelligent, humourous and humane” and her commentary “will challenge the way you think about race”. Despite some “wobbles, moments when the whole book risks losing its balance”, Adichie “is a very skilful writer and her talent for illuminating the intricacies of human interactions carries her.”

Mike Peed in the New York Times also acknowledges Adichie’s insightfulness. He praises her as “an extraordinarily self-aware thinker and writer”, and again remarks how “Americanah” manages to challenge our perceptions of race, holding “the discomfiting realities of our times fearlessly before us”. Adichie is “hugely empathetic, both worldly and geographically precise” and her work “never feels false”.

Laura Pearson in the Chicago Tribune, offers similarly impressive praise for an “absorbing love story”. Its ambition is evident, managing to present “a multilayered meditation on learning to belong to one's own life” alongside a romantic novel.  Like Lowdon, Pearson does note that Adichie “indulges in a lot of detail” to the extent that the novel “meanders” and “lags in places”. Yet the novel still remains precise, as Adiche manages to “capture specific emotions with rich, exacting detail”. Accompanied with Adiche’s own experience of life in Nigeria and the U.S., we “get vivid descriptions about the often lonely, disorienting experience of adjusting to a foreign country.”

Like Raymond and Tallis, protesters leading a mock funeral procession in London are critical of the Government's changes to the Health Service. Photograph: Olly Scarff at Getty Images

Book talk from the New Statesman culture desk.

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Why does food taste better when we Instagram it?

Delay leads to increased pleasure when you set up a perfect shot of your dinner.

Been on holiday? Take any snaps? Of course you did – but if you’re anything like me, your friends and family didn’t make it into many of them. Frankly, I can only hope that Mr Whippy and I will still be mates in sixty years, because I’m going to have an awful lot of pictures of him to look back on.

Once a decidedly niche pursuit, photographing food is now almost as popular as eating it, and if you thought that the habit was annoying at home, it is even worse when it intrudes on the sacred peace of a holiday. Buy an ice cream and you’ll find yourself alone with a cone as your companion rushes across a four-lane highway to capture his or hers against the azure sea. Reach for a chip before the bowl has been immortalised on social media and get your hand smacked for your trouble.

It’s a trend that sucks the joy out of every meal – unless, that is, you’re the one behind the camera. A new study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology suggests that taking pictures of food enhances our pleasure in it. Diners at the food court of a farmers’ market in Philadelphia were asked either to photograph their meal or to eat “as you normally would”, then were questioned about how they found it. Those in the photography group reported that not only did they enjoy their meal more, but they were “significantly more immersed in the experience” of eating it.

This backs up evidence from previous studies, including one from this year in the Journal of Consumer Marketing, which found that participants who had been asked to photograph a red velvet cake – that bleeding behemoth of American overindulgence – later rated it as significantly tastier than those who had not.

Interestingly, taking a picture of a fruit salad had no effect on its perceived charms, but “when descriptive social norms regarding healthy eating [were] made salient”, photographing these healthier foods did lead to greater enjoyment. In other words, if you see lots of glossy, beautifully lit pictures of chia seed pudding on social media, you are more likely to believe that it’s edible, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
This may seem puzzling. After all, surely anything tastes better fresh from the kitchen rather than a protracted glamour shoot – runny yolks carefully split to capture that golden ooze, strips of bacon arranged just so atop plump hemispheres of avocado, pillowy burger buns posed to give a glimpse of meat beneath. It is hardly surprising that 95 million posts on Instagram, the photo-sharing site, proudly bear the hashtag #foodporn.

However, it is this delay that is apparently responsible for the increase in pleasure: the act of rearranging that parsley garnish, or moving the plate closer to the light, increases our anticipation of what we are about to eat, forcing us to consider how delicious it looks even as we forbid ourselves to take a bite until the perfect shot is in the bag. You could no doubt achieve the same heightened sense of satisfaction by saying grace before tucking in, but you would lose the gratification that comes from imagining other people ogling your grilled Ibizan sardines as they tuck in to an egg mayonnaise at their desk.

Bear in mind, though, that the food that is most successful on Instagram often has a freakish quality – lurid, rainbow-coloured bagel-croissant hybrids that look like something out of Frankenstein’s bakery are particularly popular at the moment – which may lead to some unwise menu choices in pursuit of online acclaim.

On the plus side, if a diet of giant burgers and salted-caramel lattes leaves you feeling queasy, take heart: if there is one thing that social media likes more than #avotoast, it is embarrassing oversharing. After a week of sickening ice-cream shots, a sickbed selfie is guaranteed to cheer up the rest of us. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser