Classic Fantasy Fail
It's been a while since I posted. This is not due to lack of interest or time (I can make time for shit I really care about), but really because I can only write about things that are unusual, funny and inspire strong emotions in me. This is a rare combination. Anyway, back to writing now...
Story time! Recently I read one of Ursula K. Le Guin's old novel's, The Word for World is Forest. The man and I had just seen Avatar and he mentioned it reminded him of the movie. I love Le Guin. She is one of the great old dames of the world. If I had a third daughter I would, in all seriousness, name her after Ursula. The Left Hand of Darkness, with it's Women's Studies doctorate level deconstruction of the role of gender in society, is my favorite book. That is how much I love her. But this book ... I swear by the star-child Jesus is a well-formed turd.
We had a used copy. (That should have been my first clue, it's not in print.) I read it. Within the first chapter, I felt the need to bleach my brain. The central antagonist was the sort of man every good feminist has in mind when they talk about needing to gather up all men and put them into camps. The world of this novel was populated with thoughtful aliens trying to teach humans their hippie wisdom. Meanwhile the human men (there were only male characters) fell into two categories; rugged, misogynists who had rape and murder for dinner and awkward, sciencey misogynists who thought women were are also good for breeding AND whoring. I hated it.
Don't get me wrong it was awesomely well crafted. She is an amazing writer, I devoured the book DESPITE my distaste. She's like a witch that one. But oh god, the ick.
If anything I feel so sorry for her. How the fuck did women like Le Guin stay sane fifty, thirty years ago?! When, even in their fantasy future, with space flight and robots and medicine and shit, they still relegated their future daughters to being breeding stock or whores.
I am sooooo fucking done with old people's fantasy novels where the plot centers on Manly Men being Men at each other. Of the old greats, Robert Silverberg is the worst offender in my readings, from his Majipoor books to The World Inside (I still can't scrap that ick-inducing misogynistic horror show out of my mind.) He's the master of relugating women into roles where they are around only because they are having/going to have sex with a man. ... Go to bed old man!
PS- When is your next novel coming out so I can buy it?
PPS- Thank God for Michael Swanwick, his characters get to have fantasy sex the way it's suppose to be, uncomfortably weird yet sweat inducingly hot. (Riding the Giganotosaur) I know what I'm doing tonight.
Story time! Recently I read one of Ursula K. Le Guin's old novel's, The Word for World is Forest. The man and I had just seen Avatar and he mentioned it reminded him of the movie. I love Le Guin. She is one of the great old dames of the world. If I had a third daughter I would, in all seriousness, name her after Ursula. The Left Hand of Darkness, with it's Women's Studies doctorate level deconstruction of the role of gender in society, is my favorite book. That is how much I love her. But this book ... I swear by the star-child Jesus is a well-formed turd.
We had a used copy. (That should have been my first clue, it's not in print.) I read it. Within the first chapter, I felt the need to bleach my brain. The central antagonist was the sort of man every good feminist has in mind when they talk about needing to gather up all men and put them into camps. The world of this novel was populated with thoughtful aliens trying to teach humans their hippie wisdom. Meanwhile the human men (there were only male characters) fell into two categories; rugged, misogynists who had rape and murder for dinner and awkward, sciencey misogynists who thought women were are also good for breeding AND whoring. I hated it.
Don't get me wrong it was awesomely well crafted. She is an amazing writer, I devoured the book DESPITE my distaste. She's like a witch that one. But oh god, the ick.
If anything I feel so sorry for her. How the fuck did women like Le Guin stay sane fifty, thirty years ago?! When, even in their fantasy future, with space flight and robots and medicine and shit, they still relegated their future daughters to being breeding stock or whores.
I am sooooo fucking done with old people's fantasy novels where the plot centers on Manly Men being Men at each other. Of the old greats, Robert Silverberg is the worst offender in my readings, from his Majipoor books to The World Inside (I still can't scrap that ick-inducing misogynistic horror show out of my mind.) He's the master of relugating women into roles where they are around only because they are having/going to have sex with a man. ... Go to bed old man!
PS- When is your next novel coming out so I can buy it?
PPS- Thank God for Michael Swanwick, his characters get to have fantasy sex the way it's suppose to be, uncomfortably weird yet sweat inducingly hot. (Riding the Giganotosaur) I know what I'm doing tonight.