Women as Animals

Yeah, Bradley Pearson demonstrates more than a little misogyny throughout his narrative. One of the ways in which that misogyny comes through most clearly is in the many, many examples of connections he draws between women and animals or animalistic behavior.

Although there are one or two instances in which these connections have positive associations (he's fond of describing Julian Baffin's hair as a lion's mane, for instance), on the whole, they tend to be pretty negative. For your viewing pleasure—or, more likely, your viewing displeasure—we're gathered a few of them here so that you'll know them when you see them as you work through The Black Prince. Take a gander:

Only a little of [Priscilla's] hair was visible, with a dirty line of grey at the roots of the gold. Her hair was dry and brittle, more like some synthetic fibre than like human hair. I felt disgust and human pity and a prowling desire to vomit. I sat for a time with the awkward ineffectual gesture of a small child trying to pat an animal. I could not make out what forms I was touching. (1.7.111)

Julian's delight was literally indescribable. Her face dissolved and glowed, she quite unconsciously clapped her hands, she rushed back to me and shook me by the shoulders and then rushed back to the mirror. Her innocent pleasure would have moved me very much upon a better occasion. Why had I thought of her as an image of vanity? This delight of the young animal in itself was something pure. (1.19.121)

Rachel left me. I saw her disappear into the crowd, her battered blue handbag swinging, the plump pale flesh on her upper arm oscillating a little, her hair tangled, her face dazed and tired. With an automatic hand she had scooped up the hanging shoulder strap. Then I saw her again, and again and again. Oxford Street was full of tired ageing women with dazed faces, pushing blindly against each other like a herd of animals. I ran across the road and northwards towards my flat. (1.21.134)

Rachel was dressed more smartly than usual in a silky dress with red and white blotches on it and a low square neckline. Her collar bones, sun-browned and mottled, were prominent above the dress. Her neck was dry and wrinkled, faintly reptilian, her face was smoother, more made-up than usual, and wearing the expression the French call maussade. (2.1.28)

A woman's face changes in tenderness. It may become scarcely recognizable. Christian en tendresse looked older, more animal-like and absurd, her features all squashed up and rubbery. (2.3.94)

Are you getting sick of these yet, Shmoopers? We sure are. Bradley's dim view of women isn't exactly subtle. In general, what Bradley would seem to prefer is a Platonic, idealistic, sexless kind of existence. Too bad all these women are getting in the way.