So much has been written about Martha Stewart -- and precious little of it complimentary -- that I have found myself drawn lately to defending her. Rude Martha jokes abound, many of them featuring nasty things being done to her attractive blonde hair with a Cuisinart. People enjoy sneering at her craft books, her recipes, her magazine, indeed, her very existence. I enjoy a good dig at Martha on occasion myself, but things seem to be getting a bit out of hand.

The crystallization of my pro-Martha feeling took place when an acquaintance insinuated that I might be like her (Martha, that is -- and I'm not). This friend was being given the nickel tour of our new home. We happened to be standing in the master bathroom together. On the counter, I had placed a vase of goldenrod (that's goldenrod, folks, not rare lavender tea roses). The aforementioned person spotted the vase and said, "Do you always have flowers in your bathroom?" in a tone of voice more suited to asking whether or not my leprosy was getting worse.

"In the summer, yeah, usually," I replied.

"Oh, that's so Martha," this person said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Now bear in mind here, before you decide whether or not it's "so Martha" yourself, that goldenrod is one of eastern Ohio's most ubiquitous wildflowers, and one which most folks around here consider nothing more than an allergy-causing weed. It grows all over the woods surrounding our home, and it takes all of two and a half seconds to walk out the front door and yank some out of the ground. Bringing in a few stems of this homely stuff takes no more thought or effort than yawning, but this person acted as though having goldenrod in the bathroom were tantamount to having hand-painted an outhouse to resemble the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. I wavered back and forth between being complimented and being insulted and to this day, have not completely decided how the remark strikes me.

There are an awful lot of folks who think Martha is God, but there are at least an equal number who find her ubiquitous, smiling presence at least out-of-touch (who has time to do all that stuff, anyway?) and at most, borderline offensive. But the legions of "We Dislike Martha Intensely" anti-fan clubs springing up across the country have, when you stop to consider it objectively, very little to complain about.

Here is a woman who, through dint of her own hard work and savvy marketing skill, has created a veritable kingdom out of domesticity. Her many craft and cooking-related books fly out of the bookstores, and her magazine, MARTHA STEWART LIVING, is one of the most successful start-ups in recent magazine publishing history. Her television program and her television specials accompany her newspaper column in reaching millions (according to a CBS "60 Minutes" broadcast in June 2000, she reaches 35 million Americans every month through her various enterprises -- that's well over 12% of the population). I'm not saying she's done it all with no help from anyone. I'm saying that she has a message concerning the domestic arts -- and the message she has to give is delivered most effectively by herself.

Sure, it's easy to make jokes about a woman who, in her self-named magazine, publishes articles like "How to Vacuum" (I kid you not). This sort of instruction will be invaluable, assuming that the next UFO to plunk itself down on Earth is carrying little green extraterrestrials who are all eager to apply for housekeeping jobs at Holiday Inns across the country. It's like rolling off a log to snicker at someone who constructs not gingerbread cottages, but electrified gingerbread mansions for Christmas.

I'm sorry to say that I suspect a lot of the dislike stems from the simple fact that Martha is a woman. I don't want to go into pro-feminist hysterics here, but I can't think of a single man who, were he in Martha's position, would be so castigated. Martha goes from a successful catering business to successful books to a successful magazine to a successful television series and television special, and all her critics have to say about it is how she is demanding, or has a temper, or seems smug. Well, my gosh. Wouldn't you be a little smug if you had umpteen houses, wealth beyond belief, good looks, and a veritable publishing empire to boot? I know I would. You couldn't be in the same room with me, I'd be so smug. As for being demanding and having a temper, it strikes me that those two qualities are absolutely necessary in any perfectionist.

Her detractors wonder, who made Martha Stewart Goddess of All That Is Domestic, after all? Who decided that she was fit to instruct all of us in the gentle arts? She did. That's the whole point. She is a ravenous student, deciding on her next project or skill and then researching the hell out of it. If she then wants to turn around and impart the fruits of her labor to anyone willing to listen (or read), how can anyone fault her for that? Granted, few of us are going to be able to make topiaries as trim and fine as hers, and probably more of our soufflés will fall. After all, Martha has lots of help from a large staff (according to a lawsuit brought to court a couple of years ago by one of her gardeners -- yes, she has a number of them -- the $56,000 she paid him that year did not cover his having to wash her cars and dog).

Then again, few of us are willing to spend the time perfecting these skills. Martha is. Again, that's the whole point. Martha is willing to do the dirty work (or at the very least, pay others to do it) and if she wants to then turn around and make it look, well, a lot easier than it truly is, that's her prerogative. In addition to being willing and able to do the work necessary, Martha Stewart is smart as a whip. She knows what works, she knows what people want, and she gives it to them.

No one makes an issue of the fact that José Ferrer wears a false nose in the title rôle of the 1950 film version of "Cyrano de Bergerac." Why, then, does anyone fuss that all is not as tranquil and perfect as it appears in Marthaland? So what if half her readers probably never attempt to make dainty sheet metal Christmas tree ornaments? So what if most of them get pleasure out of simply reading about doing all this stuff? The same holds true for lots of us and cookbooks. We're never going to make every single recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking (as, it's rumored, Martha did), but we get vicarious pleasure out of reading the recipes and how-tos and picturing the end result. There's nothing wrong with that.

Food for the mind and heart don't necessarily have to translate immediately into decorations for the home, or seafood bisque for the dinner table. Not everything in life has to be substantive, serious, and concrete. Anyone familiar with Martha Stewart's books and magazines knows that, along with the how-tos, they are things of beauty, and therefore, a source of pleasure -- and for a lot of us, that's more than enough.

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