This Is Pleasure by Mary Gaitskill
“Without being beautiful, he gave an unexpected impression of beauty—but then he would subtly thrust out his jaw, with his lips parted so that his lower teeth were just visible, and his narrow face would look strangely insectile and predatory, like something with large mandibles.”
Although this is the first of her books I have read, I’m aware Mary Gaitskill is no stranger to writing about some of the more intimidating sides of human experience. As Leslie Jamison describes in her interview with Gaitskill for The Guardian, “Ever since her explosive debut Bad Behaviour, Gaitskill has dealt with pain and intimacy, sex and power.”
In This is Pleasure (2019), Gaitskill unpacks a complex, yet addictively interesting narrative. A clear response to the development of the #Metoo movement, this novella charts the twenty-year friendship between Quinlan Maximillian Saunders (known as Q) and Margot (M). Told from each character’s perspective in alternating short chapters, we are invited into the platonic intimacy of their relationship.
Both are influential book editors, living in New York. Q has built a reputation for uncovering hidden gems in the manuscript piles, publishing the type of indie hit books that covet him acclaim in the industry. A dapper dresser, British, oozing charisma, Q is someone who attracts women easily. M’s friendship begins with them going to lunch. Q attempts to put his hand between her legs but she fends him off with a firm “NO” and a palm held in front of his face. His response: “I like the strength and clarity of your ‘no.’” The next day he sends her flowers, and their friendship begins.
Q’s questionable behaviour with women is often excused. He protects his behaviour (which includes going clothes shopping with a new female colleague and pinching her nipple in the changing room, spanking another colleague in his office in punishment for being late for lunch and asking a woman he’s just met at a work party to bite his finger) as simply testing whether they are “game.” In so doing, Q creates a code of conduct that is all to himself, one the women around him must abide by if they want to be “accepted” by him. As the #MeToo movement has brought to light, women are often on the receiving end of unwanted sexual advances of men, particularly male superiors who hold power leverage in their professional field, and feel unable to challenge, question or refuse. In the workplace, there has been an unspoken fear that rebutting such behaviour could lead to bigger problems or harassment, missed opportunities or advancements, or the loss of jobs entirely. Q, like many men, revels in his power and influence, refusing to see it as problematic but more his earned “right.”
Dubbed as slightly eccentric, rather than sexist or misogynistic, the acts of borderline sexual harassment start to mount. In the wake of a formal complaint made against him by various women he has worked with throughout his career, M’s chapters start to read as confessionals. She is attempting to understand not only why his behaviour is being viewed the way it is, but the complicit role she may have played in allowing it to continue. Q’s behaviour is something she may have occasionally chided, but it is also something she has also revelled in and drawn amusement from:
“I sat there inexplicably furious. Inexplicable because I'd been amused by and watched other people be amused by these - what a ridiculous word and how accurate it is! - microaggressions since I’d know Quin.”
Q is married to a beautiful and wealthy woman, with whom he shares a daughter. He never actually cheats on his wife, but neither does he take particularly seriously the effect the way he acts has on her, or their daughter: “‘She’s a girl’ she said. ‘I don't think she enjoys watching her father flirt with every woman he meets any more than I do.’”
We’re also given insights into the ickiness of Q’s self-importance, the ways he thinks he “helps” the women in his life, and how easy they are for him to throw away:
“She accepted my professional advice (I was a great help to her)...Eventually, I helped her get a plum job with a literary agency. On her last day at the office, she wanted to know if I’d still invite her to my parties. I said, ‘As long as you flirt with me, love.’ I didn’t invite her to a party, though. There were others who better filled the spot that she had occupied.”
Despite the charges filed against him, don’t expect any epiphanies or empathy from Q. While he concedes the world is changing, he believes that “Women are now very into the victim story.” He views his own takedown as simply collateral damage for the larger injustices women are seeking:
“They are angry at what’s happening in the country and in the government. They can’t strike at the king, so they go for the jester.”
An interesting way Gaitskill conveys the moral complexity of her chosen subject matter is through M’s standpoint. M has witnessed how some women behave around Q, playing willing components in his odd little games. In the case of the woman Q spanks in his office for being late, M recalls that it was the woman who proffered Q her behind when he calls for her to be punished and that Q did not actually instigate the punishment (even if he did go along with it). It’s this incredibly fine line that Gaitskill is an immeasurable pro at walking. Emily Temple does a great job of summing this up further in her essay about Gaitskill, Why Is Bad Behaviour So Good? for LitHub, which I highly recommend.
In the end, we’re given no outcome for Q, M, or their friendship. The furore around Q escalates with a petition for his dismissal garnering thousands of signatures and M’s standing-by of her friend being both questioned and admired. Q never sees himself as at fault, and instead makes plans to find work in London or wait for the whole thing to die down. The reality for many men in his position: life will simply carry on.
This is Pleasure is a pleasurable read. It will certainly make you think in a more nuanced way about gender dynamics across platonic and non-platonic relationships. Gaitskill offers no clear moral camps for us to sit with, and sensitively offers us an impressively huge world to consider in under 100 pages.
Elaine Mead is a freelance writer and book reviewer, currently residing in Hobart, Tasmania. She is passionate about the ways we can use literature to learn from our experiences to become more authentic versions of ourselves and obsessed with showing you photos of her Dachshund puppy. You can find her online under @wordswithelaine.
