The "Girls" are all right

Do you watch the HBO show "Girls"? If you don't, I can tell you briefly that it follows the adventures of four friends, twenty-something girls in New York, as they flounder their way through relationships, jobs, life, basically creating mayhem and angst wherever they go.

Sounds a lot like a lot of other TV comedies, doesn't it? Things like "Sex in the City," "Seinfeld," even "Friends." The thing that sort of makes "Girls" different is that all those other shows generally have at least one character with whom you can empathize, one who is likable. All the girls on "Girls" are so messed up, so totally self-absorbed, that it is hard to feel sympathy for them when life sends hard knocks their way.

These are characters that are really...well, unlikable. And yet watching them has been somewhat like watching a train wreck for me. I just can't turn away. I have watched the show faithfully for five years now. This season's finale will be Sunday night, and barring unforeseen circumstances, I'll be there in front of my TV, watching to see the latest outrageous acts of Hannah, Marnie, Shoshanna, and Jessa. Especially Hannah.

Hannah Horvath, as all the sentient world surely knows by now, is played by the writer/creator of the series, Lena Dunham. Dunham plays Hannah as a character who is resolutely unappealing. She screws up everything in her life. She lurches from one disaster to another from week to week. She routinely makes the very worst decisions. She makes us so angry we long to reach through the screen and shake her. She is an exhibitionist who lets it all hang out (literally!) and seems to glory in appalling us.

One of the funniest scenes for me in this most brilliant (in my opinion) season of this series occurred a couple of weeks ago when Hannah went on a retreat with her mother and there was a shot of her walking away from the camera in a wildly inappropriate bikini. Yes, we laugh, but why do we laugh? Is it because Hannah/Lena does not have a model-thin bikini body? Are we laughing because women with imperfect bodies - which is most of us - are funny? Are we laughing at society's unreasonable expectations of women? Are we laughing at Hannah or with her? No body shaming for her!

We viewers want so badly, I think, to see some growth in these young women, some hint that they are on the road to actual responsible adulthood. We've waited in vain for it for four years, but finally, this season, I think I detect a glimmer of the possibility of such an outcome for at least two of the characters, Hannah and Jessa. That has given me pause to try to recall myself as a twenty-something. What was I like? Was I just as bad as these "Girls"? Worse?

Admittedly my memory of those years is clouded by the mists of time, but, if I am honest, I have to confess that I was every bit as self-absorbed and selfish as any of these young women. Maybe my foibles and sins were somewhat different, but they were no less self-destructive and self-referential. I was just as oblivious to the feelings and needs of others as I sought to satisfy my own. But at some point along the way, I did begin to change and grow and finally to become a relatively responsible adult.

So perhaps there is still hope for the girls of "Girls" to become fully-realized human beings. Maybe we'll get a clue in Sunday's season finale and next season, the last for the series, perhaps our hopes will be fulfilled.

Not for Marnie, though. There is no hope for Marnie.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

The Nature of Things

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