This isn't going to be a big "I hate Betty Draper" screed. I agree with my co-blogger Tami, who, in September, wrote in a piece called "Sexism Makes Me Hate Betty Draper:"

The character of Betty Draper, who was fresh and hopeful in season one, is now nervous with periodically shaking hands. She is withdrawn, bitter and cold. She is alternately dismissive and cruel to her children (particularly her daughter), her friends and other family members. She is unhappy and the world knows it. Personal misery can make for an unpleasant personality.

I understand why Betty is the way she is. She was molded by her family and a society that viewed women like her as dolls not living, breathing women with needs and desires. In Sunday's episode, Betty's father Gene hints several times that he, too, didn't know what kind of person he was raising. He mentions that Betty is nothing like her independent mother, his wife, who was working when he first met her. He frets that he shielded Betty from too many things, raised her to be a princess—"Scarlett O'Hara" he calls her. After he tries to discuss his final wishes with his daughter, she huffs: (paraphrasing) I know it must be hard for you to face whatever it is your facing, but can't you keep it to yourself? It's selfish and morbid for you to talk to me about it. I'm your little girl! Later, Gene tells his grandaughter, Betty's child, that she can be whatever she wants to be..."no matter what your mother says." It is likely a message he never gave his "little girl" Betty. Nor does it seem he encouraged his wife's independent streak, as there is no mention of her working after they married. [...]

A commenter named Lgreer28 on Television Without Pity asked just this question to the Betty haters:

I find it amazing that people are always pointing out Betty's immaturity, while ignoring the immaturity of the other characters. Why do they expect her to be the perfect parent? Why is it that her flaws are not tolerated, yet the flaws of the other characters are? Why do they constantly complain about Betty's flaws and ignore Don's? Why do they ignore the fact that Don is no more a perfect parent than Betty? Why do they ignore his own immaturity or his tendencies to indulge in his own illusions?

Indeed. Betty is a bad mother, but "Mad Men" is riddled with bad fathers. Betty is selfish, but not nearly as selfish as her errant husband. As for my beef, Betty hardly created the hierarchy of race and femininity that strangles her and all of the other women on the show—black ones, included. There is scarcely a man on the show who hasn't committed Betty's "crimes" and much more and who isn't 10 times more responsible for perpetuating the inequities of the time. Yet, she is the person that gets all of our hate, which maybe proves that when it comes to sexism, we aren't so much more enlightened than folks were in Betty's day. We tut and gasp over the biased treatment of women on "Mad Men." "My God, I'm so glad things are different today!" But as we analyze the show and its characters with our 21st century eyes, a woman is still judged more harshly than a man for similar infractions. We've laid aside the mid-day gin at the office, the skinny ties and girdles. But it seems that, in some ways, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

In addition to Tami's take, Amanda Marcotte writes about the ire of some conservatives that so much focus is given to Betty's unhappiness:

Oh, I can't imagine what it must be like to be a social conservative invested in that show. You must flinch every time Betty walks onscreen, looking pained, bored, and miserable. That she herself is a petulant brat doesn't make up for that, because the show is making the point that oppression isn't suddenly right because the oppressed aren't perfect people. And the show implies that certain ugly character traits are the result of oppressive systems, that Betty Draper is a miserable person because she's been turned into one. How dare the show suggest that bitchy women might be more pleasant if they weren't treated like second class citizens? And so [Benjamin Schwartz, writing for the Atlantic] gave you an out: Betty's character makes you uncomfortable because it's not realistic, and January Jones is a bad actress, and women in the 50s were never bored because being someone's sex-and-domestic appliance is what every woman really wants! It's not you, it's January Jones and the evils of feminism. [...]

And really, Schwartz's contempt for the character and his scapegoating of the actress—-and especially the applause he got from social conservatives for it—-shows the underlying contempt for women in the paternalistic platitudes about how women were happier when being a housewife was mandatory. Dreher's being upfront about it. Asking us to spend time on the feelings and thoughts and fantasies of Betty Draper is boring, because the whole point of wives is that they're in the background, making it possible for the real actors—-mostly men—-to make things happen.

The conservative reaction to the Draper marriage shows exactly how effective that storyline is in making its point. A lot of liberals, I've found, are bored with Betty for another reason entirely. They can't understand why she doesn't just pick up and leave already, if she's so unhappy. We're on the other side of it—-so feminist that it's hard to wrap our minds around the psychology of someone who isn't. But conservatives flip the fuck out, get defensive and start scapegoating January Jones, going so far as to argue that her dull affect is evidence that she can't act, when in fact it's evidence that the actress is being fearless in her portrayal of someone whose entire personality has been flattened out by boredom.

I have to admit that part of the Betty hatred comes from the fact that I can empathize with Carla. Betty is, as Tami explains, "the embodiment of pre-Feminine Mystique, upper-middle class, white womanhood." It's part of the same reason I also hate Pete Campbell.

But more than that, there is another element at play. More than just Betty's character flaws, what makes her unwatchable is the painful lack of an inner life.

As I wrote about the fate of minorities on the series in season one, the third season has been categorized by stripping away at the inner lives of all the women on the show, Betty most markedly. Betty, from seasons one and two, had a strong inner life outside of Don. Even while she was confused as to the general reason for her shakes and malaise, she was curious and introspective. She maintained arm's length relationships with other women, but still revealed much of herself. On occasion, she acted out of character, expressing her protective streak by shooting the neighbor's birds, or when she decided to take out her aggression sexually, using a sexy stranger.

For most of season three, Betty's been pouty and insolent. The shades of insight into her motivations and personality have generally vanished, as Betty is mainly used to help advance the plot, at the expense of her own development. (Weiner, in an interview with the Daily Beast today, appears to view her childlike nature as key to her character.) Now, again, this isn't unique to Betty - Peggy and Joan also lost their inner lives this season, appearing mostly in the context of the men they were involved with (romantically or professionally).

But watching Betty go through the motions of finding out Don's secret and falling for another man while stripped of her inner life was something like watching her die a slow, painful death. Gone are the casual conversations with Francine, just hurried discussions about the reservoir. The look into the inner workings of Betty Draper achieved with the psychiatrist are a memory. Without her inner life providing insights to her behavior, we are left with a direct reading of Betty: spoiled, selfish, cruel. The only time a glimpse of the season one and two Betty surfaces is during her finale fight with Don, his careful facade smashed to pieces. They attack each other, brutally, Don focusing in on their class differences and Betty dredging up the scorn, confusion, and anger that's plagued her for the last three years:

In the end, Betty flies off to Reno, leaving behind the suburbs, the failed marriage, and the lingering doubts of her own sanity. She's moving forward with a man she doesn't know, in order to escape another man she doesn't know. Fitting, really.

So while I hate Betty, I kind of can't help to see her for who she is - a flawed, miserable person stuck in an increasingly desperate gilded cage. The marriage was already poisoning the two children - having it end will probably be for the best. Perhaps Betty's story line could have been salvaged. Perhaps Matthew Weiner could have humanized her more, given her more space to experience grief and rage before she got the upper hand by finding Dick Whitman's box of secrets. Perhaps then, instead of being a tangle of privilege and petulance, Betty Draper would have been seen as a woman in an impossible position, seeking a savior, instead of looking like an opportunist.

But either way, it's over. The Draper family is dead. Long live the Drapers.

Related: Sexism Makes Me Hate Betty Draper [What Tami Said]
Why Does Betty Draper Have To Make Wingnuts Feel Guilty? [Pandagon]
"Fuck Pete Campbell!": Mediations On Mad Men And Whiteness [Racialicious]
Why "Mad Men" Is Afraid Of Race [Double X]
On Mad Men And Race [Racialicious]
"Shoot" Wins ADG, Matt Weiner's Visions, Birds [Basket of Kisses]

After an entire season of having his sleep interrupted by Betty, the baby, and Conrad Hilton, Don finally had to wake himself up. This seemed to be one of the themes of this episode, as Don put all his effort into to saving Sterling Cooper, and came to terms with the fact that he couldn't do the same for his failed marriage.


When his relationship with Connie was severed after the news that Sterling Cooper and its parent company were being sold, Don was justifiably bitter, saying, "You come and go as you please, and you don't care that my future is tied up in this mess because of you." It's ironic that it completely escapes Don that he just verbalized exactly how Betty feels about their marriage.

Connie replies, "I've got everything I have on my own. It's made me immune to those who complain and cry because they can't. I didn't take you as one of them, Don. Are you?" He's not. And Connie's speech was the horse kick in the head Don needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and start feeling empowered as a man who is actually in control of his own destiny.

Like Connie, Don is immune to those who "complain and cry" at the idea that they don't have something of their own—namely, Betty.


But unlike Connie—who took a shine to Don because he saw a piece of himself in the creative genius—Don, at times, resents in others what he does himself. Seriously though, didn't you reflexively rubberneck and think, "Who you callin' a whore?" It isn't even a pot/kettle situation: Betty hasn't even consummated her relationship with Henry Francis yet. (And yes, she did fuck that guy in that bar that one time, but her extramarital bedpost is still relatively intact compared to Don's, which has been whittled down to a toothpick at this point.)

More ridiculous was Don's insistence that Betty should see a doctor because she hasn't been "herself". The fact of the matter is that she hasn't been herself during the entire marriage—and possibly for her entire life. She's been the woman she was told she should be. The change Don has seen is evidence that she's actually been getting in touch with herself and her wants and her needs, and she's realizing that Don doesn't fulfill them. She was right when she said she deserved more.


But Don was right, too. Betty built herself a life raft in order to jump ship from her marriage. Don wasn't exactly the whole problem—depending on him to make her happy was. And now she's going to depend on Henry. Will she have to go through a second divorce to realize that what she wanted and needed was independence?


Which brings us to Peggy. Earlier, Roger told Don, "You're not good at relationships because you don't value them." Don's relationship with Peggy in this episode mirrored that of his relationship with Betty. He doesn't ask, he just assumes that she'll follow him around "like a nervous poodle," and everyone thinks he does all her work, even him. He's taken her for granted, saying, "There's not one thing that you've done here that I couldn't live without." She lets him know that she's had other offers—just like Betty.


But unlike his interactions with Betty, Don tries hard to win Peggy back. Like many people, Don subconsciously places more importance on the work that Peggy does more than the work of a housewife. It's interesting how in every scene in his office, Peggy always sat on the right, and Don—in the power position—on the left. Now their roles are reversed. And he says everything to Peggy that he should've been saying to his wife, like, "I've been hard on you, but only because I think I see you as an extension of myself. And you're not."

Perhaps Don took Roger's comment about valuing relationships to heart, because he stresses to Peggy, Pete, Lane, and Roger how indispensable they each are. He seems to know exactly what to say to everyone to make them feel valuable—except for his own estranged wife.


Or his children, for that matter. Although he does try.


Still, his efforts are paying off in some ways. Peggy needed that validation from Don, and now she's sure of her worth—and it doesn't involve fetching coffee for Roger.


Joan—and Roger—however, always knew exactly how valuable she was, and is.


Trudy's pretty valuable, too. She's becoming a Lady MacBeth of sorts, and is proving to be instrumental to Pete's success. It's yet to be seen if he knows this.


Unfortunately, though, the eldest Draper kids are merely afterthoughts. Are they really gonna live with Carla for those whole six weeks that Betty is in Reno?


At the end of the episode, the closing song included the lyrics, "The future is much better than the past. In the future, you will find a love that lasts." Betty's face seems to imply otherwise. Like Don said, "Something happened—something terrible—and the way that people saw themselves is gone." We shall wait and see.

[Image via AMC]

Anyone who's read any career romances (ahem) - or, for that matter, The Bell Jar - is familiar with New York's "women's residences" - genteel residential hotels that ban male guests and maybe provide little "beau parlors" for entertaining gentlemen callers, ideal for the young career woman new to the city, and usually funded by concerned parents. (In the romances, said career gals would generally meet a congenial roommate and find some amazing bachelorette apartment in a "marginal" area like Greenwich Village or Chelsea, where they they proceed to throw elaborate dinner parties involving chafing dishes.)

Well, they're still around, as the Times tells us - places like The Webster, The Brandon, or the nun-run Sacred Heart (where one friend of mine always bunks when in town.) And, guess what? They sound amazing:

Though the Barbizon and others, such as the Parkside Evangeline on Gramercy Park, have succumbed to developers' offers over the years, sold and remade into condos or luxury hotels, the smattering of all-female residences that remain are thriving, most with waiting lists of prospective tenants. The appeal today is not so different than it was in the past: safety, cleanliness and - especially attractive in modern-day New York - a good real estate deal....It costs about $1,000 per month to live at the Webster. For that you get a small single room and shared bath but also a hot breakfast and dinner, maid service, use of a large walled garden and a roof deck with a spectacular view of the Empire State Building. (Developers are constantly making unsolicited offers for the property.)

And yes, for Manhattan, a grand with hot meals is not just good, it's very good. If that sounds quaint, listen to this:

The Jeanne D'Arc Residence on West 24th Street, which was established in 1896 as a home for "friendless French girls" who crossed the Atlantic to take jobs as nannies and seamstresses, is even cheaper - between $355 and $510 a month, depending on the size of the room. But you have to cook yourself...Most residences require prospective tenants to go through a substantial screening process, requiring character references, a doctor's letter testifying to the applicant's good health and an interview. The Webster requires proof of employment.

Um, done! The women quoted in the piece described the single-sex residences as "more relaxing" than coed, and more collegial - some of the same things cited when discussing single-sex education. And given that the piece also cites recent divorcees as residents, something of a refuge, too, between apartments and the stresses of normal city living - albeit of a different kind from what the founders enisioned. It's also, apparently, a great way to make friends in a place where that can be hard. Perhaps most intriguing, the residences bost "older women who have lived there for decades, nurses and secretaries who never quite found another life." How often, in this day and age do women of different ages live and learn together? Suffice to say, despite the disappointing absence of regular tea time, by the end of this piece I was totally sold and had downloaded the application. Sure, there's the small matter of the live-in boyfriend (no men allowed, ladies) but that's a small price to pay for time-travel without the baggage. (Oh, and a garden apartment with housekeeping.)

Where The Boys Aren't [NY Times]

As the news spread through the show's universe, we saw the quotidian collide with the global: work, love, relationships all suddenly became trivial. The reactions rang true - perhaps especially so when we've come to understand what it is to have a beloved young president whose very existence inspires optimism, and in a time when we've come to understand national tragedy and the panic it induces.


Meeting Peggy for a "nooner," Duck makes the questionable - and telling - decision not to inform her of the shooting until after sex... particularly callous when you consider that Peggy, from an observant Catholic family, would feel especially effected by the news of Kennedy's death. In a sense, all the relationships are thrown into stark relief: Jane and Roger prove to be on completely different wavelengths at a time when their generational differences are starting to tell; Margaret and Brooks commit to being part of a dying order; Pete and Trudie bond; Roger reaffirms his bond with Joan.





If people's reactions were telling, Don's speaks volumes. And does this first disregard of his word as law presage a new era in the Draper home?


In the world of denial- or is it grit? - Roger and Mona go through with their daughter Margaret's wedding. Roger calls the moment hopeful in the midst of tragedy; it feels more like the last gasp of an old order who won't let go. Once again, Don tries to make everything right. But clearly, that time has passed. The moment's far more "if that's all there is" than romantic, and for the first time, Don has lost control - not just of the moment, but of the pulse of the times.


In the wake of Kennedy's - and then Oswald's - deaths, clearly Betty feels the time for inaction has passed. But is this brave - or another kind of running?


The showdown we've been waiting for was still shocking. Truthfully, I don't know how I felt about implicitly tying the Draper's marriage to the lost innocence of the Camelot years - but the show is telling us in no uncertain terms: nothing will ever be the same again.

Hendricks talked about her wedding, and Joan's vase-smashing-over-the-head moment. Then Martha said: "I must say… I thought you were much older." Awkward!

Next, Martha talked about her days as a model and how she was asked to wear a bikini for no reason.

After that, Martha made a mixed drink, but asked Christina to shake it — at which point the camera focused on Christina's cleavage. Someone in the audience coughed. As I said, the whole thing was strange.

First: A hobo is a worker who wanders. Wikipedia notes that in addition to "travelers," gypsies were often referred to as "Wise Women."

Don has certainly wandered; Betty is just now getting wise, so to speak. Right at the very beginning of the episode, she challenges Don: "You have no more money." A question phrased like a statement, because she knows the answer. She's seen the stacks of cash in his drawer. She's giving Don a chance to come clean, even though she knows he won't. Not that easily.

The other woman in Don Draper's life, Suzanne Farrell, was also wising up: "I see a man who is not happy," she says. "I'm happy now," Don replies. It's a lie. He's lying to himself. Or it's the truth; and he's happy with things the way they are: Cheating on his wife, sneaking into Miss Farrell's apartment for secret sex and pasta. Either way: Not what Suzanne Farrell believes, or wants to hear.

Meanwhile, Joan was coaching her husband's interview skills. Another example of the "Wise Woman." As usual, Joan is on the money. (Anyone else think she would make a good shrink?) Her intuitive way of dealing with her husband; explaining: "This is a talking profession," came off as experienced and savvy. She knows how to work with people; she's a gifted communicator. In addition, when describing the qualities her husband should project: "You're smart, you're funny, you're great to be around…" was Joan just projecting her own qualities on to him?

Also, since this episode was about secrets coming out of the drawer and into the light, his "I can't believe I never told you that" fit right in.

In bed, Suzanne said to Don: I just wanted more than I thought I would want. But it will pass." This reminded me of "This too shall pass," the phrase Solomon (the famous Biblical wise man) saw on a ring. The ring was supposed to have power: "If a happy man looks at it, he becomes sad, and if a sad man looks at it, he becomes happy." Happiness fades, but so does sadness. Don thinks he's happy — it'll pass. Suzanne is sad they can't be more to each other — it'll pass. Perhaps she's been in this situation before?

In her father's house, Betty spills what she knows about Don to her lawyer: "He's been married before… It's a lie so big." Her lawyer, acting as a stand-in father figure, recommends: "Go home, give it a try." Adding: "That's what I'd tell my own daughter."

Another thing fascinating about this scene is how the lawyer calls Betty "Betsy." It's been interesting how she has so many different names; with her dad, she would say, "It's me, Elizabeth." Don calls her Betty, Betts or Birdie. What does she want to be called?

Roger Sterling and his old flame, Annabelle Mathis, had a boozy night in which they referenced the war, Casablanca and a love affair gone wrong. The sexual chemistry was palpable, but when she said "you still want me," he replied: "So what." And: "It's different with this girl. I'm sorry."

Roger also dealt with his other old flame — when Joan called, asking for help with work. There was something close to pride in his voice when he recommended her for a job, saying, "She's expensive."

Joan's husband Greg screwed up his interview then took his anger out on her: "Stop acting like you know everything." Rational Joan: "We need money." Greg ranted: "You don't know what it's like to want something your whole like, and to plan for it, and count on it, and not get it." Fool! Joan knows all too well what that's like. She thought she'd be the wife of a surgeon, not supporting a whiner/failure. When Joan hits Greg on the head, not only is she pissed: She is trying to knock some sense into him, and rejecting his notion that she doesn't know what it's like to work towards something all your life.

The sole comic relief in last night's episode occurred during the dog food focus group, in which the pup owners projected their own personalities on to their pooches, who were eating horse meat. Peggy's line, "I can't turn it off; It's happening" basically describes everything about this show: Life is not a well-produced commercial. It's messy business not even Don Draper can control.

We found out that Roger Sterling's old flame broke his heart. She said: "You were the one." It's like she's emptying out her own desk drawer of secrets. Unfortunately, Roger Sterling wasn't moved by her revelations.

Don and Betty's showcase showdown over the desk drawer was chilling. She exhibited a steely resolve hinted at (remember when she shot the birds?) but never explored. It was both shocking and a relief to see Betty becoming a font of strength. Don's comebacks — "you changed your name" — were so weak, he was basically destroyed. So much came tumbling out of Betty — "I respected your privacy too long"; "You're a very very gifted storyteller" — it was almost horrifying. So raw, so stripped down of the usual gloss. So out of the comfort zone. Don Draper shaky? Don Draper unsettled? Don Draper fumbling with his cigarettes? Unprecedented. Betty eventually showed signs of concern — not pity — and offered to get him a drink. But that didn't stop what happened next:

Don Draper cried.
He spilled everything about his mother the 22-year-old prostitute, his Uncle Mac, his half-brother Adam and how they're all dead. We witnessed the Death Of Don Draper As We Know Him, and it was hard to witness.

By the by: Nothing good can come of Greg joining the army. Him saying "Vietnam… If that's still going on…" is most likely foreshadowing. We have the burden of knowing of course it's "still going on." And lots of people die. Good luck with that, Greg.

It was kind of insane that while Betty and Don's confrontation was taking place, Suzanne Farrell was waiting in Don's car. "What happened? Did you get caught?" she asked, which we knew was a double entendre: Never mind the affair. He got caught in the biggest ruse of all: His life.

At the very end of the episode, we see the Hobo and the Gypsy for whom the script was named. It was Halloween, after all: The day which celebrates pretending to be someone you're not. Don Draper's spent years faking it; ironic that he's suddenly been forced to take off his mask. But when Betty watched him kiss the kids goodbye as he went to work, it was as though she was watching a stranger.

So. When Don and Betty took the kids trick-or-treating, and the neighbor said, "Who are you supposed to be," it was an excellent question. Don Draper is his unflappable, hardened exterior. Now that it's cracked, who the hell is he? Is he Dick? Is he Don?

The end titles were set to "Where Is Love," from the musical Oliver!. Though the film was released in 1968, the show premiered in London's West End in 1960 and hit Broadway in 1963.

Oliver!, as you may know, is loosely based on Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. In the show, Oliver is an orphan who has the courage to ask for more, ends up hanging with pick-pockets (what is advertising but sleight of hand?), but is actually an innocent, though crime is all around him — what he wants more than anything is a sense of belonging. A family.

Earlier: Mad Men: "Enjoy The World As It Is. They'll Change It, And Never Give You A Reason"
Mad Men: Everyone Is Disappointed
On Mad Men, When Is It Rape?
Mad Men: Sex, Lies, & The Recline Of The Roman Empire
Mad Men's Appeal Is All About Joan
Mad Men: Drinking, Dancing, & Screwing
Mad Women Experience Frequent Aftershocks
Mad Men: It's All Fun & Games Until Someone Loses A…
Mad Men: Blood, Sweat, And Tears
Mad Men: "It's A Dead Man's Hat. Take It Off."
Mad Men: "I'm Peggy Olson, And I Want To Smoke Some Marijuana"
Mad Men: "Just Don't Get Pregnant."
Mad Men: Ann-Margret Gives Master Class In Womanly Arts
"His Name Is Dick - After A Wish His Mother Should Have Lived To See"

Last night's episode was titled,"The Color Blue," referencing this post-coital conversation between Don and Sally's teacher Suzanne,, wherein they ponder a question one of her students asked, "How do I know if what I see as blue is the same as it is to you?" Don remarked, "People may see things differently, but they don't really want to."

Part of the shared human experience is the desire to be understood, to have others (or at least someone) see things as we do. But another part of the human experience is that we each have a different lens—shaped by our individual experiences—that renders a worldview unique to each person. So, basically, we're all doomed to misunderstandings.


Exhibit A: The teacher's brother.
He has epilepsy (or "fits") which is making socialization/work/life difficult for him: it freaks out those who don't understand the disorder. As the brother, Charlie, sees it, "Other people are the problem." He's tired of being misunderstood to the point that he doesn't want to even try to assimilate anymore. His sister tries to renew his faith in humanity when she tells him, "People are ignorant. They're scared of things they don't understand." But he may not have understood.


Exhibit B: Paul Kinsey
He's in the "other people are the problem" camp as well. And when he says "people" he means women, specifically Peggy. As Peggy pointed out to Don when she was asking him for a raise a few episodes back, Kinsey makes more money doing the same job as he does ("and not always as well"). In this clip, Paul's pitch for the Aqua Net account falls flat, but Peggy comes to the rescue with some good ideas. Paul sees her good work as a negative reflection on himself, rather than a positive reflection on his team.


Paul thinks he's telling Peggy something she doesn't already know when he says, "Wearing a dress isn't going to help you with [the] Western Union [account]." Clearly he thinks being a woman is a benefit for Peggy's career, rather than a hurdle.


While Kinsey was jerking off and getting wasted, Peggy was actually hammering out ideas, and making sure to keep track of them. If Peggy views her gender to be a hurdle in this business, maybe she understands that she can't do anything to fuck it up.


Once Kinsey finally has his inspiration, he's too busy being proud of himself to write it down. Perhaps, since he hasn't had to deal with the same setbacks as Peggy in this business, he isn't as prudent about his work. So, in that way, perhaps Peggy "wearing a dress" does help her with the Western Union account.


While Don is busy acting like Tony Soprano (sleeping over the goomah's house and lining his desk drawer with cash), Betty is busy reading The Group by Mary McCarthy, which was on the New York Times best-seller list in 1963. It's a novel concerning a group of women who come from affluent backgrounds and graduated from Vassar together in 1933. They find that the Great Depression has given them a more autonomous lifestyle, as they are encouraged to work and have careers. Again, the Depression was viewed by many people one way, and by this "group" as something completely different. Amazon says:

Mary McCarthy filets Ivy League society, socialism, 1930s child-rearing practices, sexual double-standards, psychoanalysis, and men in general.

Betty probably relates to the character Kay (which was loosely based on McCarthy's own life), as Kay "subsumes her own talent to the artistic 'genius' of her egocentric and philandering husband." Interestingly, since last night's episode, the book has gone from a ranking of around 64,000 to 3,200 on Amazon.


Interestingly, Sterling Cooper was founded in 1933, the same year The Group takes place.


While doing the laundry, Betty happens upon a set of keys that belong to Don. She seems relieved at first that they fit into is desk drawer (and not some women's apartment), but then she finds Dick.


He's gonna have some explaining to do. But after Don doesn't return home from work, Betty rethinks rocking the boat with a confrontation, and returns the box and key where she found them.


Does anyone else think that Don made a huge mistake giving his card to the teacher's brother, who "always" needs money? I have a feeling this guy is gonna blackmail Don for his drawer cash.


In the end, Kinsey, realizes that he's not so misunderstood, when Don and Peggy both empathize with his "lost idea." And in the end, he realized that Peggy's intelligence is what helped her out with the Western Union account.


In the car, on the way to Sterling Cooper's anniversary party, Roger's mother, who seems to be suffering through a bit of dementia, manages to drop a super insightful (not to mention, heavy on the foreshadowing) quip when she told Jane, "Enjoy the world as it is. They'll change it, and never give you a reason." November 22, here we come.

The opener — Betty being caressed by an unseen man — who we just know is Henry Francis — was actually a dream. And Betty's first disappointment of the episode.

Don Draper is headed into work early when he sees Suzanne Farrell — Sally's teacher — jogging. Interesting that she's wearing a top from Bowdoin College: Harriet Beecher Stowe started writing her influential anti-slavery novel Uncle Tom's Cabin in Bowdoin's Appleton Hall while her husband was teaching at the school. Also interesting: When talking about reading Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech to her class, Miss Farrell says: "It would be nice for them to hear an adult say it." Is she assuming parents aren't discussing such things with the children? (Is she correct? And is she disappointed that she's the only one who cares?) Don is clearly intrigued by a puzzle he can't solve, saying: "Who are you? Dumb or pure?" Alas, Don's adman coercion has zero finesse when he commands: "Have coffee with me." If you accept coffee as a euphemism for cheating on your wife, then it's especially wry when Miss Farrell says, "Maybe that's why you can't sleep. Too much coffee."

I like the hints that Don Draper and Suzanne Farrell are old school versus new school: Don's got his '50s tail fins on his car; she's jogging, ahead of the fitness craze. He's the buttoned-up businessman; she's a creative type, into current events.

Also, this scene and the next had sounds of distant thunder… A humid summer rain? Or foreshadowing of the storm that's coming?

Meanwhile, Betty makes a bold step and reaches out to Henry.

Henry reaches right back.

At the office, Sal is settling into his role as commercial director, yay! Only the client, Lee Garner — of Lucky Strike — can't be pleased. Boo. Lee's "long, wet lunch" adds to his mood; and he makes a move on Sal. Sal is not accommodating; Lee is upset. No one likes to be disappointed.

Betty's next letter to Henry is part flirtation and part cry for help: "But I do have thoughts." Her disappointment is clear: Her life isn't living up to her expectations.

More disappointment: Conrad Hilton is feeling so alone. Don tries to reassure him; Hilton says, "You're like a son." In fact, there's something more between Connie and Don than with Connie and his own kids, because, as Connie explains, "you never had what they had." Meaning the fortune of growing up with a rich father. This kind of talk taps into Don's daddy issues, and you can almost see his armor falling when he says, "Thank you… I mean it."

More disappointment at Sterling Cooper: The company's on the verge of losing Lucky Strike, thanks to Sal's refusal to engage in some man-on-man action with Lee Garner. Don is, in turn, disappointed with Sal. Don says, "Lucky Strike could shut off our lights." What he means is: "Obviously you fuck a client, if that is what the client wants!" Sal — recently told he was fired by Roger Sterling — was hoping Don would intervene. No such luck. Disappointment!

Sal was stunned/hurt/destroyed/disappointed as he packed up his portfolio. Sob.

While Don was at work dealing with disappointment, Betty had a surprise visitor: Henry Francis. Unfortunately, Carla interrupted their hand-holding in the foyer. When Don gets home, Betty feels the need to tell him about "that man from the governor's office" — and make sure that Carla can hear. Don's response: "I don't care." How very disappointing. As for Carla, she seems to know that there are shenanigans afoot. Betty may feel like she doesn't have to explain herself to Carla, but she can't help herself. The power dynamics between them are strained.

After Don and his team create a "great" campaign for Hilton, Connie is "deeply disappointed" in Don for not including a reference to the moon. More daddy issues, more let downs. It's hard to please your stand-in-father! And it's hard to have a psuedo-son who doesn't listen!

Even more frustrating: When your dreamlover penpal doesn't show up to the political fundraiser you only threw to get closer to him. Even though Betty is filled with desire, she doesn't want to do it on a desk or in a motel, come on. "It's tawdry." Henry Francis says, "I don't know what you want." Betty's disappointment seems to have many levels: This is not how she thought it would be. She wants romance, or meaning, or something. He should know what she wants. Except doesn't know what she wants, either… But a quickie on the office couch isn't it.

At home, Betty walks in as Carla is listening to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s 'Eulogy for the Martyred Children', which MLK gave at the funeral for the four black girls killed in a Birmingham, Alabama church bombing on September 15, 1963. When Betty says, "You can leave it on YOUR station" — emphasis mine — she is reinforcing the idea that she is separate from Carla, and that black people issues are not white people issues or national issues. Betty's reminding Carla that she, Betty, is on another level. Betty pushes this further by saying, "It's really made me wonder about civil rights. Maybe it's not supposed to happen right now." Since she's already turned the radio off, poor Carla didn't have the chance to get up to the part in Dr. King's speech when he said, "We must not lose faith in our white brothers. …Somehow we must believe that the most misguided among them can learn to respect the dignity and the worth of all human personality."

Meanwhile, somewhere in New York (infamous gay hangout The Ramble in Central Park?) Sal is calling his wife while surrounded by lots of MENZ. Since turning down an encounter got him into trouble, he may as well go drown his sorrows in some al fresco sex.

Lastly, Don and Suzanne have a face off fraught with sexual tension: "I know exactly how it ends," she says. She's practical, guarded, pragmatic. When she says, "I don't think you've done this before this way," is she insinuating that she has? No matter: Don's aggressive and impulsive: "I want you. I don't care. Doesn't that mean anything to someone like you? " He's not willing to entertain the idea that she's not impressed by him: That would be too disappointing.

Earlier: On Mad Men, When Is It Rape?
Mad Men: Sex, Lies, & The Recline Of The Roman Empire
Mad Men's Appeal Is All About Joan
Mad Men: Drinking, Dancing, & Screwing
Mad Women Experience Frequent Aftershocks
Mad Men: It's All Fun & Games Until Someone Loses A…
Mad Men: Blood, Sweat, And Tears
Mad Men: "It's A Dead Man's Hat. Take It Off."
Mad Men: "I'm Peggy Olson, And I Want To Smoke Some Marijuana"
Mad Men: "Just Don't Get Pregnant."
Mad Men: Ann-Margret Gives Master Class In Womanly Arts
"His Name Is Dick - After A Wish His Mother Should Have Lived To See"

Interestingly, every time a rape or sexual assault is portrayed on the show, questions swirl around whether or not it was really, truly an assault. When Joan was raped by her fiancé in the second season the buzz on message boards was that it wasn't really rape. In an interview with New York Magazine, Christina Hendricks expressed her shock at the fact the rape scene was being debated:

[I]n the penultimate episode of the season, her doctor-fiancé rapes her. "Every time I got the script, I was like, ‘Poor Joan!' " says Hendricks. [...]

The rape was a shocker-but the audience reactions were perhaps more disturbing. "What's astounding is when people say things like, ‘Well, you know that episode where Joan sort of got raped?' Or they say rape and use quotation marks with their fingers," says Hendricks. "I'm like, ‘What is that you are doing? Joan got raped!' It illustrates how similar people are today, because we're still questioning whether it's a rape. It's almost like, ‘Why didn't you just say bad date?' "

The scene was polarizing, sparking heated online debates in which some questioned Joan's reaction (she and her fiancé head off for dinner afterward) while others wondered whether Joan would understand that it was rape, a taboo subject in 1962. Labels aside, Hendricks says Joan knew what was going on. "She's smart. She'd think it was awful and ‘Holy shit!' But she also thinks, ‘Pick yourself up, comb your hair. You've got a dinner reservation; don't be a baby. You know many girls this has happened to.' "

Our culture teaches us to excuse rape, to rationalize it away, to pinpoint all the reasons why a woman was partially or fully culpable for a man choosing to ignore consent and force a sexual encounter.

Also in the second season, Don Draper decides to regulate and sexually assaults Bobbi Barrett. But hey, does it really matter if Barrett likes it? (Let me be clear - that scenario is extremely complicated and needs a post of its own to parse out.) How many of us were turned on by (or, alternately, repulsed by) this scene, when the consent was not given beforehand, but complicated by their relationship afterward?

But let's put those two aside for the moment. What happened with Pete and the flustered au pair? Let's say Bobbie Barrett truly enjoyed Don Draper molesting her and found it sexy. Plausible. Bobbie enjoyed Don in a sexual way. But that was not the dynamic between Pete and Gertrude.

She is distraught, he offers to find a solution to her problem. She accepts the dress he has exchanged with thanks. When Pete moves in initially for a kiss, she shakes her head and demurs, mentioning a boyfriend. Pete is rebuffed. He leaves. A little later, after a drink, he comes back, not taking no for an answer. Gertrude doesn't even want to let him in the house, but acquiesces before he makes a scene. She is a subordinate in the building, while Pete is an apartment owner and a peer to her employers. She consents only to trying on the dress - as she goes to try the dress on, Pete restrains her, closes the door, and forcibly kisses her. At this moment, Gertrude stands stiffly for a few moments before submitting.

But submission is not equivalent to consent, especially not with those kind of power dynamics going on.

We didn't have to see the end of the scene between Don and Betty to know that they slept together. Likewise, we don't have to see the end of the late night scene between Pete and Gertrude (or hear about the four boxes of tissues she went through) to know what happened was rape.

Dangerous Curves [New York Magazine]
Mad Men, I Love You, But Your Fans Are Freaking Me Out [Bitch Blogs]

Earlier: Don Draper Dominates Dames
Mad Men: Sex, Lies, & The Recline Of The Roman Empire