What do you think of when you think of high heels? For me, there’s a divide between high heels ‘in the wild’ and my own experience. High heels in general are elegant: they’re worn by women who are smart, professional and probably wealthy enough to jump in a taxi rather than risk getting their stiletto wedged in a Tube station escalator. A woman of this type would probably not get her heel trapped in a grille on a staircase, and has to grimly hunker down, one shoe on, one shoe off, to winkle it out. (That was me.) Heels have a mythos of their own, provoking envy, longing and pride in otherwise quite reasonable women, and transforming their designers into household names; but why should this be? Exactly what is it that makes the high heel such an enduring object of obsession? The Bloomsbury Object Lessons series is always engaging, but Summer Brennan’s investigation of the heel is a particular favourite so far. Embracing Greek myth, fairy tales, history, fashion and biology, she sets out on a quest to understand exactly why this most uncomfortable of shoes has become the most ubiquitous. Fierce, feminist and fascinating.

For Christmas 2005, I asked my parents to buy me Camilla Morton’s book How to Walk in High Heels. It promised to teach me all sorts of things that I would need as a newly-fledged adult, but I was most interested in the bit about heels. I was twenty, and about to leave university, and felt certain that a successful professional woman would wear heels (an impression reinforced by the Devil Wears Prada film the following year). I dutifully bought the most expensive heels I could afford, but have never learned to feel comfortable in them: a shame, given that my fiancé is over a foot taller than me. For me, heels mean an event: a posh night out where I’m wearing a dress and really can’t get away with flats. They mean sitting down as much as possible; a constant leitmotif of discomfort in the back of my mind; the sheer relief of taking them off at the end of the night and feeling my reddened feet expand gratefully into the air. Even now, when I slink flat-footed into an exhibition opening or art fair, I can’t help feeling as if I’m breaking the code in some way, revealing that I’m not the established woman I claim to be, but merely a scruffy student in disguise. Perhaps, if I’d read Brennan’s book at a younger age, I’d now feel less self-conscious about failing to buy in to fashion’s ‘consensual martyrdom’.

The women of 17th-century Massachusetts must have looked forward to receiving the new fashions from the old country. However, when they received word of ‘the bewitching new high-heeled shoe styles from France‘, something strange happened. Their community elders enacted an extraordinary law, that any woman ‘who used high-heeled shoes to seduce a man into marriage would be tried and punished as a witch‘. High heels have elicited mixed reactions ever since: the acknowledgement of their allure, alongside a suspicion of their power. There are dark parallels between this law, which blamed women and their shoes for luring men into marriages, with modern responses to rape cases, in which women are accused of provoking their attackers with their outfits, ‘as if shoes cast a spell that a perpetrator can’t resist‘. But what’s a woman to do? Brennan’s book explores the mixed messages that women are given, both explicitly and implicitly. We receive approval when we wear heels ‘in the boardroom or at the gala‘, but criticism if we wear them to walk home late at night. How is a woman to judge the watershed point between her heels being appropriate signs of poise and status, and an apparently open invitation to attack? Early in the book, Brennan deals with one of the most disturbing questions of all: how is it that the shoes which women are brought up to see as the most elegant, the most prestigious, beautiful and admirable, are also the shoes in which it’s hardest to run away from a man?

For me, the strength of Brennan’s book is in the way that it spirals out to consider the historical context of high heels, which started out as men’s shoes: military garb, in which the heel helped to grip the stirrup. She even nods to the cultural history of platforms, which appear in towering form on ancient monumental statues of Aphrodite, and which persisted through functional medieval pattens until their apogee in the tall chopines of Renaissance Venice. As she goes, she looks at the way that society responded to women’s footwear, which can be traced to some degree through fairy tales – and trust me, once you start thinking about it, it becomes incredible that so many fairy tales and myths boil down to women wearing, or not wearing shoes – having feet, or not having them – shoes as traps, or shoes as freedom. Think of Daphne, running from Apollo and being rooted into the ground, feet-upwards; or Cinderella and her mythical ancestor, the Chinese Yexian. Think of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, whose secret is betrayed by their worn-out dancing slippers. Think of the Little Mermaid, who makes such sacrifices in order to have feet, and shoes, and whose constant pain is hidden from others, cloaked beneath her outward exquisite grace. And think, too, of Hans Christian Andersen’s other story, the most explicit warning against the vanity of footwear ever written: The Red Shoes.

I love delving into fairy tales, and seeing what they reveal about the societies which created them. Brennan has some fascinating insights in this area, especially when she draws attention to the contrasting treatments of men and women. ‘Men’s folkloric footwear,’ she observes, ‘is usually an instant boost to power… Fairy tale shoes for women and girls are often correctional, if not dangerous, or serve as stand-ins for her character or worth.’ And what’s true in fairy tales is often true in reality as well. If a shoe is a metaphor for a woman’s virtue, then surely nothing achieves that quite so brilliantly as a shoe that makes it difficult for her to move or be independent – whether that’s a towering modern stiletto or the lotus shoes of China which, from the 10th century until the 20th, encased the repeatedly broken, tiny bound feet of elegant women. Foot-binding, thank God, has now died out, but we aren’t free yet: we’ve just yoked ourselves to a different, slightly less painful kind of beauty. Using high heels, we try to make ourselves taller, slimmer, more ‘feminine’ in its most exaggerated sense, deliberately accentuating those parts of the body which distinguish us from men – an artificial attempt to emphasise sexual dimorphism, which provokes one of Brennan’s most interesting discussions. Fashion, it seems, can sometimes be brought into play when biology itself has been found wanting.

Something to bear in mind is that the Object Lessons series gives its authors considerable leeway. These are not precise, objective books: they’re more like a series of linked stories, a set of allusions, the literary equivalent of a dinner party conversation. Each and every one of them is different, and deeply personal. Naturally, approaches differ, and I’ve found myself responding in a variety of ways: I’ve really enjoyed some, been interested by others, and found one or two utterly bewildering. It just so happens that High Heel was the first one I read – although I’m only writing about it now, two years later – and the way it approached its subject, with a blend of poetry, mythology, literature, fable and politics, was particularly to my taste. Brennan writes beautifully, which also helps, with a light and lyrical touch, and hers is a book that speaks to everyone who’s ever tried on a pair of high heels, admired them or excoriated them. A lively, inclusive and engaging romp, full of thought-provoking facts.

"The story of a person’s shoes is the story of her function in society, and our footprints are the marks we leave, where we’ve been and the direction we’re going… Pain, pleasure, dreams, desire, status, blood – these are the refrains in the songs of women as we strut, hobble, dance and walk through this man-made labyrinth we call the world."

For the review, please see my blog;
https://theidlewoman.net/2021/05/24/high-heel-2019-summer-brennan/

DNF

I did not read this book and I know longer have any interest in reading it. This was during the beginning of my NetGalley “everything looks great so I am going to request it without looking into the book. I have definitely become more selective in choosing what books I want to request and read.

Wonderful book! I'm a huge fan of Summer Brennan's writing, and this book is a solid piece of research. Well done. Love the "object lesson" series.

Okay, so technically I DNF’d High Heel by Summer Brennan. BUT, this really says more about my work load and reading preferences than it does the book itself. You see, I always like to imagine myself as someone who reads nonfiction books for fun, but I can’t think of the last time I actually managed to complete a nonfiction book that wasn’t for work. At this point, I should probably give up the ghost and stick to reading YA, fantasy, and romance when I’m reading to relax. Still, I was lucky to receive a copy of High Heel through NetGalley, so I’ll go ahead and give you my initial impressions.

High Heel reads like a cross between an academic text and series of personal meditations, and I think this is, ultimately, one of the books strengths. This relatively unique format is more accessible to a general audience that might not otherwise pick up a book on literary or social criticism. It also gives readers room to think of their own experiences with high heels, structural inequality, and gender (just some of the topics covered in this short but dense text). I would recommend this book for readers interested in high heels (duh!) and gender socialization and inequality.

I did enjoy this book, but out of the three Object Lessons books that I've read, this would have to be my least favorite. It was still a simple and fast read though and I enjoyed it, but there was just something about this book that didn't catch my attention like the other two books did.

This is definitely one of the more interesting and thought-provoking volumes from the wonderful Object Lessons series. It’s a thoughtful and wide-ranging exploration of high heels – how and why they were first thought of to why women (in particular) still wear them, however uncomfortable, nay even dangerous, they often are. (How glad I am my own high heel days are over). Insightful, non-judgemental and entertaining – just what the books in this series should be.

Was delighted to interview the author for my weekend column. It’s slim but thought-provokingly great and started many conversations with and between readers about footwear, feminism and societal pressures to choose heels. Written in elliptical labyrinthine tidbits, like "Notes on Camp" and Maggie Nelson's BLUETS, and I'm still thinking about the ideas it brings up weeks later.

This was another great addition to the series. I liked this one even more than Pill and am looking forward to reading more of these...

"High Heel" by Summer Brennan.

5 stars.
I didn't know what to expect, I loved it!
It's easy to read and entertaining... You just want to go on reading.
I loved how it's divided in small chapters, it makes it so much easier to read and follow!
The way it's written, I loved it! It was captivating, a short read and I couldn't put it down! Read in a few hours.

And also weird and I loved it. First chapter had me hooked :
"A woman runs through a forest, chased by a god.
Another attends a ball.
A third stands ove ra subway gate in white chiffon.
A fourth chains herself t the gates of a palace.
A fifth is carried away.
A sixth is going home now, click click click.
A seventh approaches the guillotine.
..."

It was weird and captivating and I loved it! And knew right there I wanted to read more! An interesting read.

Thank you NetGalley and Bloomsbury Academic for the ARC of this book. This is my honest review. All opinions are my own!

The connections Summer Brennan makes in this book are exceptional and seamless -- myths, literature, history, and personal anecdotes are all folded together in this object lesson. It's hard to stop reading!

I always enjoy these short meditations on everyday material objects. This one traces high heels through the pattens that carried people above the muck of medieval streets to the high heeled boots made for stirrups, then to showcase male musculature of the calves, then extended to exclusively to women's fashion and use by men transgressing mainstream behavior. Brennan pulls on threads like fairy tales, drag queens, stripper shoes and pole dancing, luxury brands, foot binding, workplace inequality and Barbies to provoke a meditation on a commonplace possession.

When I saw Summer Brennan’s book High Heel, I felt intrigued. It is the first of her books that I read and the first of the Object Lessons series from Bloomsbury, a collection of interesting books about the hidden lives of ordinary things.

High Heel gave me so much pleasure. It is a short and concise book but it covers a lot of ground. As you read it reveals more and more, so much so, that I don’t know how Summer Brennan managed to write it. It is a book about femininity and feminism, sex and gender, violence and mythology.

High Heel explores the history of the shoe, and high heel in particular. High heel was first considered masculine; they were actually invented for men as a form of riding footwear. You were not supposed to walk with these shoes. Eventually, during the Enlightenment, men's fashion shifted towards more practical clothing and as the differences between the sexes became more pronounced, female immobility and desirability begun to be constructed in terms of impractical fashion. The high heel becomes the primary example of this impractical dress, one of the obstacles to slow down and objectify the women.

Summer Brennan is going as far back as the Greek myth of Daphne, who when she was pursued by the god Apollo, she run until she grew exhausted and cried out to Gaea for help. The goddess transformed her into a laurel tree which Apollo then adopted as his sacred plant. She also refers to the fairy tales of Cinderella, Little Mermaid and the Beauty and the Beast where women and girls are things to give and barter and are often asked to pay a price of pain, or silence, or both.

Overall, I loved High Heel. It is a great read, thoughtful, intriguing and easy to read. Thanks to Bloomsbury and NetGalley for my review copy.

Yet another interesting read from the object lessons series. Discussions on the relevance and ramifications of high heeled shoes right from fairy tales to feminism make it a very interesting read.

I received an advanced copy via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

High Heel is part of a series published by Bloomsbury Academic called “Object Lessons” that takes everyday topics and does a brief, but in depth look at those objects. I probably would have overlooked the series entirely if I didn’t already follow the author of this work on Twitter. I am intrigued by some of the other works in the series so this was a good gateway book for me.

High Heel explores the history of the shoe and how it was considered masculine, and made for soldiers in cavalry, before becoming the fashion of noble Europe, and eventually making it’s way as the standard for professional dress for women in today’s world. This is just the shallows of the world of high heels. Under the surface, there’s tension that comes with wearing high heels for women that this book really took the time to spell out. Even going as far back as the Greek myth of Daphne, where for as long as a woman is pursued, there will be obstacles that slow her down, whereas Daphane was turned into a tree, high heels now are a tool to slow down the modern woman and make them objects.

Further, the idea of women are told to wear the shoe, even though it is uncomfortable, and causes pain, and the fact that we can’t acknowledge it in social settings is even more obvious when we see the history of the high heel, like in the original Grimm fairy tale of Cinderella, or Andersen’s Little Mermaid. Now, we must be in pain, walk slower, and also be at fault for when we are assaulted.

Of course, I don’t think everyone is going to agree with the assessment that women are required to wear high heels, or agree that they have to wear them because of the patriarchy, and that is valid. In my experience, if you’ve ever worn high heels and felt some sort of power then you know why you want to wear them. This book makes you pause to evaluate your motivations–is it really for yourself or to please the patriarchy? Why should I have to only feel powerful in painful shoes? Am I trained to think less of pain, and more of beauty?

Overall, I found this a quick read that was interesting and well thought out. I wasn’t a fan of the structure, but it was easy to read past that. Looking forward to reading other books in this series and by this author. Check out The Oyster War by the author, which is a fascinating micro-history/politics surrounding a small California town, a private oyster business, and the Parks Department of the U.S.

Was there ever an article of clothing more weighed down by cultural baggage than the high heel?

Summer Brennan, a wearer of heels, offers a discursive and allusion-heavy meditation, ambitious in its breadth, on this fraught and revealing cultural symbol. Solnitesque, this book's themes and subjects include female entrapment and social mobility in myths and fairy tales; origins and history of the raised shoe and heel; sexual dimorphism and our obsession with exaggerating the differences between the sexes; sexuality and sexism, femininity and feminism; fetishization of and violence against women; and subversive and artistic reappropriations liberated from patriarchal contexts. Whew!

Though emphatically not a wearer of heels, I liked this. I hope I haven’t made it sound dense: it’s smart but very easy reading. At its best, it's thought-provoking and surprising; at its worst, which thankfully isn't too often, it's self-conscious and overly whimsical. I would have appreciated more cultural diversity among her sources and references. But overall this short book would make a great gift for a reader whose interests include culture and fashion. Personally, I prefer Brennan's first book, a full-length and in-depth exploration of a controversy surrounding an oyster farm in Northern California.

Oysters and high heels—and I hear her third book will be about a Parisian artist. Brennan sure knows how to pick her subjects!

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the opportunity to read this in advance of publication.

"Object Lessons is a series of short, beautifully designed books about the hidden lives of ordinary things".

In this object spotlight we dive into the world of the High Heel.
The High Heel, the icon of femininity a landmark symbol to be celebrated, fetishized, demonized and outlawed.
A particularly in depth look into the world of the High Heel and how it has transformed over time, it's relevance to gender identity, sex, women and the feeling of empowerment to the wearer's.
Brennan makes a great comparison from Hollywood to cultural and societal associations with the "heel" it branches into the significance of feet binding and over to fairytale and the cinderella myth were interesting to read.
An intriguing set of books to read give them a go you will enjoy them.
4 Stars

Many thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and Netgalley for sending me an arc in return for an honest review.
(All opinions are my own and are unbiased)

I really enjoy the objects series and how they focus on the reasoning behind an object. This was no exception to that. I rarely wear standard high heels and normally opt for a boot with a chunky 2-3inch heel as anything else is painful for long periods of time. The way that Brennan brings her various sources and arguments together was done really well and I finished this feeling like I learnt something about the cultural significance these shoes play. The combination of the past and the present discussions was also a good addition and this helps expand Brennan's argument beyond what we already know.

This is a quick, fascinating discussion of high heels and their impact on society. Brennan's writing is strong and more literary than you'd expect for this kind of nonfiction book, but that just adds to the readability of it. I don't know that it will fit in with my library's collection, but I will still recommend it to readers with relevant interests.

"Our shoes pin us to the world... and because the stories that shoes tell are invariably about public life, they must also be about status"

A thought-provoking meditation that starts with heels and travels over a range of related topics from rape culture to fashion, pain and femininity, beauty and art. Brennan is a wonderful companion as she moves us from Ovid's Daphne via Sylvia Plath's haunting black pumps in The Bell Jar, the shoe workshop in Ferrante's quartet of novels, and the numerous fairy-tales that work around shoes (Cinderella, The Red Shoes, Puss-in-Boots just as starters) through to David Bowie's glitter platforms and modern feminist debates about empowerment vs. submission to patriarchal strictures.

I've read a few of the books in this intriguing series and this is the best to date - of course, that's partly because it speaks so clearly to my own concerns and interests, but also because Brennan combines the anecdotal with the researched, and ultimately leaves things open rather than closing them down:

"How can we retain and celebrate a woman's sexuality and femininity, while freeing her from sexual objecthood? What are women even like outside of patriarchy?"

Witty, personal, wide-ranging, interrogative, angry in places, but always thoughtful and stimulating - you won't wear your favourite heels in quite the same way again!

I have found these Object Lessons books intriguing yet somewhat uneven so far. This one, however, is without a doubt my favorite to date...

High heels are such an emblem of femininity - for good or ill - and their fetishization by men and women alike is a fascinating topic in and of itself. Add in the layered feminist and sociopolitical ideology that Brennan weaves throughout the narrative and you find yourself with a very intriguing book that covers a lot of ground in a relatively short time. The organization is interesting. There are not chapters so much as sections, some of which are long and some quite short, but all of which offer food for thought and discussion on the topic of women's shoes - and their implications, which are surprisingly broad-based and startlingly impactful - throughout history. The writing style felt vaguely reminiscent of that of a Southern preacher. There is a back-and-forth, almost call-and-response feel to it, with sections addressing a topic, moving on to another, then falling back into the rhythm of the first as though to remind the reader of where they've been. It's an interesting choice in such a politicized book, and I found it occasionally to feel redundant and irritating rather than emphatic.

That point aside, overall the writing is clear and the points made resonated with me. I, too, struggle with the conflicting messages and standards that are wrapped up in women's fashions and my own response(s) to them. For a topic that many deride as silly or frivolous, there's a rather wild amount of serious politics and socioeconomics tied into women's shoes and the choices we make about them, and Brennan does an admirable job at laying those out. Her perspectives on these issues are blatantly presented, but that contributed to my interest in the book. I didn't want a wishy-washy bit of trivia; I enjoyed the give-and-take between observation and opinion and found it to hit a nerve more times than I thought it would.

Overall I think this was a great addition to the series.