SovietMan decided to see what all the fuss was about and give lady writers a go. But as he found out, even books by the gals written almost a century ago are infested with the usual tropes. They do call them tropes for a reason.

So many annoying female clichés are present in this book that if it weren’t on Kindle I’d throw it out the window.  There’s the Apex Fallacy – of course the husband is some kind of famous philosopher.  Blokes who are not famous somethings do not exist.  There’s the Solipsism – why should the little wife, or we, care about the husband’s groundbreaking work?  That’s what men are supposed to do – to bring home money for their ladies and shower them with reflected prestige.  The details of how they do it or how difficult it might be don’t matter.

Feelz – we have to know exactly how every character is feeling.  Who is uncomfortable.  Who is proud.  Who feels neglected or jealous.  In painstaking detail.  Because how a person, especially the main lady, is feeling at any given time must be pulled apart and analyzed and no one ever says ‘toughen up, princess’ like they should.

There’s Toxic Masculinity, back before it had that name and was just called Frogs and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails.  The male brutes do not bother to notice all that vitally important emoting going on when they speak too harshly or directly or focus on the practical rather than fluttering around like tipsy homosexuals, making sure everyone’s alright.  Especially those fragile ladies.

And then Virginia comes through with my pet misogynistic peeve, and probably the main reason why I will never marry: Martyrdom.  The poor mother, the only one of these animals who focuses on caring about everyone else!  So hard working, so pure, so unappreciated!  Just like ME, the lady reader thinks.  My husband doesn’t appreciate ME, either.  And my daughter didn’t even eat all of the sandwich I made her which I knew was her favorite.  And Jenny from marketing is such a BITCH.

That’s his reaction to a booked called To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolfe. She wrote it in 1927, which was when all of the womens started to get out of control. It’s been a downhill race since then.

With hindsight we should have been very much afraid of the likes of Virginia Woolfe. We should also have burned her book and her at the stake while we were at it. Just to send a little message. Don’t get out of line. There be consequences.

Getting out of line is all that women do. So many Karens, so few re-education camps. I have avoided reading any books by women for some time now. They’re all the same.

If a book has been written by a woman, I’m not interested. If a book has been edited by a woman, I’m not interested. And given the fact that 90% of the publishing industry is made up of women, (no cries of equality there though), it seems that if you want decent writing you’re going to have to do some digging.

I had a phone conversation with a very old friend and mentor the other day. He is in his late 70s and I have known him since I was a young teenager. He was a true mentor for me when I needed it. He never gave me advice; he just listened and let me work it out on him. Great guy, and every young man needs one.

Anyway, we were chatting and he mentioned how he had recently gone into a bookstore and how the main display table was covered with books by women; over 80% of the books in fact. He began to say how wonderful this was and I cut him off. I told him that it was a sure sign of the end of times. He thought I was joking. I convinced him of my complete sincerity. He had trouble buying it.

What vexed me was that he has been so conditioned to believe that women are at a disadvantage that he still views the world in this manner, decades after any such disadvantage has long passed them by. We still have literary awards which exist only for women while at the same time women dominate every other award in existence. And yet still people believe that women are discriminated against.

Men could be banned from writing books, (as opposed to unofficially boycotted as is the case now), and all previous books by men banished to the memory hole, and women would still be railing against the injustices that their all so precious feelings perceive. You can never arrive with this lot. Women are professional agitators for themselves. They might have their Karens that do the dirty work for them, but all women secretly nod along with it all. The worst are those that pretend to be on the side of men, even supposedly working for us in our pathetic struggle. The Bettina Arndts and the like.

It’s getting to the stage where you’re all Karens to us.


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