Death of the Author

I just finished reading a book by Roald Dahl entitled Switch Bitch: I was attracted not only by the fact there was a rude word in the title (although, the only other book I've read with an expletive in the title, The Bloody Chamber, definitely merited cursing and should, in my opinion, be called The Bloody Bloody Chamber), but by the promise of reading some of Dahl's fiction for older readers, which I found a fascinating prospect because he was one of my favourite children's authors.

I really wish now that I hadn't read it.
The stories all concerned sex, which is fine, but two of the four stories were told from the point of view of rapists. This does not necessarily mean the stories have to be bad- exploring the psyche of villainous characters can be extremely interesting (if somewhat unpleasant), what worried me was the way the stories treated the rapes: sadly, I am going to have to use spoilers to explain why I was uncomfortable. The first story, The Great Switcheroo, is about two husbands swapping wives without telling their spouses- they sneak into each others' houses in the dark and copulate with the women (beginning when the wives are asleep, I might add) while giving the impression that they are the women's husbands. This is treated as perfectly fine, if risky- nevermind that this is a crime in the real world known as 'rape by fraud'. The husband from whose point of view the story is told does get a 'comeuppance' in the loosest possible sense in that his wife prefers the other man's method of sex and so he feels outdone. That's it. It never occurs to him what a horrific thing he has done not only to his own wife, but to his friend's: yet again, stories where characters get away with horrific acts are not automatically bad, even morally, but the book treats this as nothing more than a joke. The men in the story know their wives would object to their plan, which is why it's risky, but they never stop to consider what effect it will have on their wives' emotional well-being if they're uncovered. And we're supposed to find this funny.
And I can't. I find it sickening.
The other story which really concerned me, although to be honest all the stories in this collection have elements of misogyny to them, was the last story, entitled Bitch. This is the second instalment in the adventures of Uncle Oswald, a character introduced in an earlier story- a rampant sexist playboy who we're meant to find 'cool' judging from the forewords to the stories, written by Oswald's nephew who thinks that Oswald 'knew how life should be lived'. Yet again, characters, even narrator-characters, in fiction having wrong opinions does not equate to the author holding them, but yet again the presentation of Oswald makes me think that we're meant to find him impossibly awesome and I simply don't. Mainly because he plans to goad the President of the USA into raping a woman on live television using spiked perfume (don't ask). He genuinely doesn't mind the woman being ravaged as long as it's caught on live TV so the President can be impeached. Once more, Oswald does receive a comeuppance of sorts- the perfume's used on him and he ends up having sex...with a fat lady! The humiliation! At least in this case, unlike Switcheroo, the rape doesn't actually occur but still, this is appalling.
And it makes me like Dahl's other works less, knowing he thinks like this. This is a problem I've encountered before- after all, I'm quite into Woody Allen at the moment, and look at the things of which he's been accused. I was going to say that at least in Allen's case his works don't betray his sentiments, but then I think about Manhattan and how accepting the adults are that Allen's character is dating a teenager and I realised I can't make that call.
And I genuinely don't know how to feel about it. I love Annie Hall, and I love Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but they were written by people with such abhorrent views that I can't help but feel that the works are tainted by association. This works the other way too: Daniel Radcliffe comports himself beautifully in the public eye, speaking out against bullying and all, but he can't act to save his life and so I can't help but wish he'd just stop. If only I could install Radcliffe's ethics into Allen and Dahl, or their talent into him. But perhaps that's too much to wish for: look at any artist you admire and I bet you'll find acts worthy of contention in their behaviour. I would hardly be the first person to suggest that an inner darkness is needed to create great art, but then what do we do? The obvious answer is to divorce the author from the work completely, say one is completely separate from the other, but in the case of still-living artists, like Allen, you then give them money every time you consume their work. You fund someone so vile. I refused to go and see Ender's Game because I knew some of the profits would go to anti-equality charities, but in that case at least there was a direct economic link between the art and the evil: Allen doesn't give money to some kind of international paedophiles fund, as far as I know. So the cases are not comparable.
I didn't write this expecting to come to a conclusion and I haven't. I don't want to stop consuming things of beauty- after all, without them life is extraordinarily dull- but I also don't want to support evil. I want to have my cake and eat it too, but the cake has been made with malice in its batter, but not consuming it will make life dull and dry. There really isn't an answer.