Norah Vincent (1968–2022)

I first heard about Self-Made Man: One Woman’s Year Disguised as a Man by Norah Vincent via the xckd blag, and finding the concept intriguing I had to pick up a copy when I saw it available at CyberRead.

Norah Vincent decides to live as a man for more than a year. As Ned, she partakes in various male experiences like bonding with a bowling team, visiting strip clubs, going on dates, joining a men’s group, taking a sales job in a Glengarry Glen Ross-esque environment, and even joins a show more monastery for several weeks.

The book is a well-written and extremely engrossing account of her search for what it means to be a man. Though I don’t think Vincent could in any way truly become a man, I do think certain gender differences became more acutely visible to her, precisely because she isn’t male. A man couldn’t write Self-Made Man any more than a woman could write a book called Self-Made Woman.

Something that struck me about the book is how very brave Vincent was to do some of the things she did. She put herself in a wide variety of situations where she was completely out of her depth and which could have turned ugly fast had she been unlucky. Not only did she have the guts to get into those situations, and the skill to navigate them successfully, she also has the ability of eloquently describing how she felt at the time.

After reading Self-Made Man I realised just how tough life can be when you’re male, and was left with a profound sense of empathy towards men. If you are at all interested in how men and women think and interact with each other I suggest reading Self-Made Man, hopefully you’ll enjoy it as much as I did. I just wish Norah Vincent had more/better pictures of Ned available on her website. After reading so much about him I would have appreciated seeing him properly. show less

Grief does funny things to people. For Nick Walsh in Norah Vincent’s debut fictional novel Thy Neighbor, grief is the excuse he uses in order to explain his excessive drinking and drug use. For the past thirteen years, Nick drinks himself into a memory-blanking stupor in order to ease his pain and confusion at the sudden and violent murder/suicide of his parents. When he is not doing that, or sleeping off the effects of the alcohol, he is busy spying on his neighbors, taking a perverse show more glee at their foibles and secrets. At first, Nick is the type of character to offend and shock his audience as much as possible, as much to protect himself as it is to protect others. He is crass and disgusting, in his habits, language, and actions. However, there is an tender vulnerability just beneath the surface that plucks at a reader’s heartstrings and prevents one from dropping the book like a hot potato. Once the mysterious Monica enters his life, with seemingly no strings attached, no earthly ties, and no expectations of anyone, he begins to question his behavior and that of his neighbors. Suddenly, his self-loathing is almost as great as his desire to drink himself into an oblivion every night, and as he struggles to find meaning in his life, a reader’s sympathy profoundly grows.

Thy Neighbor is not a novel to rush through to the end. There is so much hate, confusion, debauchery, and perverse attitudes that it takes a strong stomach to make it through certain scenes, let alone the entire book. Yet, Nick’s struggle to find redemption, or to redeem others, becomes absolutely mesmerizing upon careful reading. It is a bit like pulling off a Band-Aid, which initially hurts, has a lingering sting, but eventually all residual pain dissipates. No matter how sickening the story becomes, Nick’s search for answers, and his growing inability to completely numb his senses, is gut-wrenchingly painful to read. His discoveries keep the sting lingering, but sooner or later, the reader feels relief. In a way, the reader is mirroring Nick’s own emotional roller coaster, without the fifth of whiskey or the resulting hangover.

Thy Neighbor is a provocative redemption story, throughout which Nick is desperately trying to seek the closure he does not even know he wants. His spying is as much a symptom as it is a solution to his pain. The discovery that he is not the only unsavory, hypocritical person on the block simultaneously adds fuel to his rage and confusion while providing a balm to assuage his loneliness. Unfortunately, while the first half of the novel is surprising, Thy Neighbor’s ultimate conclusion is anti-climactic and predictable. However, a reader’s enjoyment is not driven by the not-so-surprising end, but Nick’s journey along the way. It is so raw and honest, it is all but hypnotic. While not the most appropriate summer reading choice, a reader will be haunted by Nick’s story long after the last page is turned.

Acknowledgments: Thank you to NetGalley and to Penguin Group for my e-galley! show less

This is a fascinating book, but I was shocked by how depressing it is (in fact, the author ended up checking herself into a mental hospital by the end of the book).

Norah Vincent spent a year or so as Ned Vincent - she disguised herself as a man, and explored how differently she was treated as a man, and tried to explore the male psyche as much as she could. She makes some really fascinating observations, although clearly these are just one person's observations, and Norah's past and show more personality play a huge role in her perceptions.

In some ways, I think gender ends up being a straw man in the book. As much as her insights about gender are fascinating, I think that Norah/Ned is often reacting just as strongly to other factors that are independent of gender. For instance, in the first chapter, she joins a bowling league and spends a bunch of time with white trash blue collar guys. She is surprised at their intelligence and sensitivity, and as an intellectual writer, finds her own supposed superiority knocked down a few notches. It seems to me that she is responding to their culture as much as to their gender. Something similar happens when Ned gets a job as a door-to-door salesman - the job is so life-sucking and depressing that the employers have to keep everyone really pumped up all the time, and they use sex to do it. I (a female) actually worked for a PIRG for a few days, which is also basically door-to-door salesmanship, and my experience there very closely mirrored Ned's experience - that kind of work requires a certain culture. I would have been far more interested in Ned's treatment in a boardroom than as a salesman.

Having said that, Norah's/Ned's insights into gender are fascinating. She essentially concludes that the two genders come from such totally different starting places that getting them to understand each other is nearly impossible. She compares genders to religious sects - there's just no way to get them to connect meaningfully.

Norah's/Ned's personal crisis at the end of the book is ultimately about identity: she says that conforming to any gender role is basically a denial of your own identity, and her year pretending to be someone else was really devastating to her.

This is an interesting read, with lots of food for thought, and has certainly changed my perception of men. show less

Author Norah Vincent does something pretty daring and potentially dangerous: she pretends to be a man to see how the other half lives. She joins a men's bowling league, hangs out at seedy strip clubs, works at a mostly male company, lives at a monastery, and infiltrates an Iron John men's group. I can't agree with her revealing herself to some of the men she befriended; there's just something emotionally unethical about lowering the boom like that. But as a woman reading this book, I found show more some of her insights about men revealing and sad. I was also surprised she suffered a bit of a breakdown afterwards, but considering the mental and emotional stress of passing as a man, it makes sense. An intriguing and different take on gender differences. show less