Stieg Larsson’s Lisbeth Salander trilogy (starting with “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo”) is wildly popular. Feelings about the books range from irritation at our willingness to jump on a bandwagon to a cult-like appreciation. (I’m closer to the cult end. And how can you complain too much when they’re getting us to, gasp, read?)
The novels have everything for adult readers (and film-goers): Murder, intrigue, sex, cultural commentary, tragedy associated with the author (he died at age 50, just after completing his manuscripts). Yet there is another reason, which occurred to me the day I was headed out to see the second movie, “The Girl Who Played With Fire”: Lisbeth Salander kicks butt.
Don’t get me wrong, none of us should get too in touch with our inner Lisbeth. She is a heavily tattooed, chain smoking, computer hacking, dark, angry chick. But the afternoon before I was supposed to go to the movie with some book club friends, one of the women called to say she couldn’t make it. She had just left a meeting at her job where her boss and some other members of her team systematically deconstructed a project that was near and dear to her heart. A project she had worked for months, with passion and intensity, because she really believed it would accomplish good, even great, things.
Her biggest lament after the meeting? She had cried for an hour — in front of her boss and colleagues.
I knew just how she felt — and so did many of the working women with whom I shared the story. It’s just so darned frustrating to watch our evolutionary biology undermine our ability to respond in a professional setting. Like it or not, crying in the workplace undermines the perception of our professionalism and ability to handle a job.
Yet, there are times, whether it is because a situation seems to attack our core sense of self, kicks around ideals central to our professional self, or touches off our stress and exhaustion, we (and I mean women) have found ourself crying against our will or better judgment.
The kicker from my friend’s afternoon meeting? Her boss suggested they meet the following week, when she was “less emotional.”
Grrrrrr.
Remember the uproar after Hilary Clinton got emotional (her eyes welled up) on the campaign trail? What about when Martha Stewart told a contestant on “The Apprentice”: “Cry and you are out of here. Women in business don’t cry, my dear.”
There are some who would argue a touch of humanity in the workplace isn’t a bad thing. But as the person doing the crying, all you know is you wish you could shut off the waterworks and make your point. Or do what Lisbeth would do: Taser the guy and step over him on the way out the door. (OK, not really. But you get the point.)
When this character is wronged — and she is wronged over and over again in these books — she doesn’t cry. She gets even. For every woman out there who has cried when what she wanted to do was take a stand, fight for an injustice or just make a point, channeling a little bit of Lisbeth would come in really handy.
In the meantime, go read the books. Love or hate Lisbeth, you’ll find yourself wanting to know what happens next — for many reasons.
Lisa Geissler (ljgeissler@hotmail.com) is a school psychologist at Cherry Creek High School.
