What makes me sadder than book reviews of feminist works by obviously anti-feminist needledicks? Negative, seemingly purposefully ignorant reviews of such works by women who claim to be feminists. Usually when it will add another zero to their paycheck.
First, we have Elizabeth Wurtzel’s review of Rachel Simmon’s The Curse of the Good Girl. Just to let us know right off the bat what kind of head-splodingly crass and ignorant drivel we’re in for, she starts review off with a disgustingly classist/racist old wheeze: that academic standards have fallen ever since the fancy schools started allowing colored folk, Jews, and vagina-Americans to sully their ivy-covered halls. No, really, she actually says that:
Ever since the fancy schools started recruiting in the shtetl and the hood, elitism as a coherent narrative has declined to meaninglessness.
She also totally misses the point of the entire book, but that’s understandable. She was probably coked up and snorting crushed Ritalin off a hooker’s tits when she wrote this review, like she was when she wrote Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women. Which is most memorable nowadays for claiming Hillary Clinton is an irrelevant non-entity. You may remember her as the First Lady who became a New York senator, was thisclose to becoming the nations’s first female president, then was appointed Secretary of State. Yeah, nothing to see here, move along.
Then we have Charlotte Hays writing a sneering op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, claiming that feminists have our knives out for Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, because she got married. Because Eat, Pray, Love is some kind feminist manifesto. (Hint: Sarcasm! It is not. It’s the story of a self-absorbed wealthy white female Baby Boomer who “finds herself” while globetrotting in exotic locales. I found myself once, I was behind the ‘fridge the whole time.) And feminists are agin’ marriage. Which is silly, because secretly we all want a man to protect us from the scary world. Also, lesbians are a myth, like unicorns.
I’m sort of aghast that Mz. Hays sincerely seems to believe that feminists are keeping close tabs on Gilbert’s personal life and feeling personally betrayed by her relationship choices. I can’t speak for all feminists, but this woman barely registers on my own radar. I actually plan my own emotional responses around whether or not Lady GaGa is a hermaphrodite.