Just had some middle-aged dude lecture me for giving a dollar to a homeless man in Starbucks. What a patronizing mansplaining fuck.
I haven’t properly researched whether Arianne Martell is permanently cut out of Game of Thrones, and honestly, I’m afraid to find out. It cannot happen. It cannot fucking happen. You cannot take out the amazing plotline that is Arianne and her birthright as Dorne’s heiress, the only woman in Westeros and possibly the entire world who expects to inherit the throne in her own right and before her own living brothers. You cannot cut out the plot that illustrates the equal primogeniture system that is a complete political anomaly and is the basis of Dorne’s very existence and comparatively progressive culture. Godfuckingdamnit.
In my mind, they’re doing this because they’re meshing Quentyn and Trystane into one character and Arianne will show up to inherit later, either as a younger child that becomes the eldest (this is not a spoiler, this is pure speculation—this is GoT after all, anything can happen) or is temporarily exiled slash barred from inheriting because she was up to her old shenanigans again. This has to be what happens right? They’re not going to give her up in favor of some fucking 12-year-old boy who barely appears in the books?
For many of these women, the reading experience begins from a place of seething rage. Take Sara Marcus’ initial impression of Jack Kerouac: “I remember putting On the Road down the first time a woman was mentioned. I was just like: ‘Fuck. You.’ I was probably 15 or 16. And over the coming years I realized that it was this canonical work, so I tried to return to it, but every time I was just like, ‘Fuck you.’” Tortorici had a similarly visceral reaction to Charles Bukowski: “I will never forget reading Bukowski’s Post Office and feeling so horrible, the way that the narrator describes the thickness of ugly women’s legs. I think it was the first time I felt like a book that I was trying to identify with rejected me. Though I did absorb it, and of course it made me hate my body or whatever.” Emily Witt turned to masculine texts to access a sexual language that was absent from books about women, but found herself turned off by their take: “many of the great classic coming-of-age novels about the female experience don’t openly discuss sex,” she says in No Regrets. “I read the ones by men instead, until I was like, ‘I cannot read another passage about masturbation. I can’t. It was like a pile of Kleenex.”
This isn’t just about the books. When young women read the hyper-masculine literary canon—what Emily Gould calls the “midcentury misogynists,” staffed with the likes of Roth, Mailer, and Miller—their discomfort is punctuated by the knowledge that their male peers are reading these books, identifying with them, and acting out their perspectives and narratives. These writers are celebrated by the society that we live in, even the one who stabbed his wife. In No Regrets, Elif Bautman talks about reading Henry Miller for the first time because she had a “serious crush” on a guy who said his were “the best books ever,” and that guy’s real-life recommendation exacerbated her distaste for the fictional. When she read Miller, “I felt so alienated by the books, and then thinking about this guy, and it was so hot and summertime … I just wanted to kill myself. … He compared women to soup.” —
In No Regrets, women writers talk about what it was like to read literature’s “midcentury misogynists.” (via becauseiamawoman)
Here’s a fun thing you learn when you study literature: the western canon is not universally beloved. Those books are not the Truth any more than the New York Post is skilled journalism. The main reason they’re held in such high esteem is because they were written by boring white dudes with rage fantasies and boring white dudes with rage fantasies also happen to be largely in charge of deciding which books are deemed classics and taught forever in the American school system.
So if your boyfriend tells you he loves Kerouac then you tell your boyfriend Kerouac was a fucking second rate hack who wrote Beat style because he didn’t have the skill or talent to write any other way, which is probably also why he just copied every adolescent male wanderlust story since the beginning of time. That shit’s derivative and boring.
Everyone go read this immediately. As I decided last week, my life motto has been expanded from “Do your thing and don’t care if they like it” to include “If all your favorite books are by white men, I probably don’t think you’re a very interesting person.”
i have so many professors i want to force to read this post
Pretty sure I reblogged this before but another time can only help me clear my head of the misfortune of having recently read Philip Roth
I read on tumblr that if an appendage falls asleep, you should shake your head not the appendage. Totally works. Literally takes 5 seconds.
Having a difficult time getting through Season 4 of Breaking Bad because I just hate Walt so much at this point
(Source: forever90s, via 50thousand)
yugoslaviannickels said: I just googled 'David Foster Wallace dudebro' and came across your tumblr. :)
HAHAHAHAHAAAAA. This made my day. I have to admit that I haven’t read much DFW—and the stuff I’ve read so far I quite like—but seriously, guys and their love for DFW have taken on a slightly creepy association with me, particularly after two strange DFW-related incidents at my school. At this point, I just don’t give a damn about boys who love Sensitive White Male Authors—all that tells me usually is that they identify themselves as such, and nothing insightful about how they view or treat others.
Carine Roitfeld is the Walt Disney of what Tumblr is today. She is the Kanye West of what Tumblr is today. She’s the single most important person to what street style is today. — Kanye West
(Source: GQ, via staff)
reverse hades/persephone, where the young daughter of summer uses plant magic to ensnare the lord of darkness and keep him prisoner in a beautiful garden above ground. Eventually, enchanted by her cleverness and wild youth he agrees to eat six pomegranate seeds and stay with her for half of every year.
# ID READ THE FUCK OUT OF THAT # HE TRIES BEING ALL IMPOSINGLY MIGHTY AND WRATHFUL WHILE PERSPHONE JUST GOES ON WATERING THE FLOWERS OUTSIDE HIS CAGE # HE PETITIONS TO AT LEAST GET SOME DEATHBELL AND NIGHTSHADE AND ASPHODEL GROWING IN THERE BUT IT’S ALL LOTUSES AND SUNFLOWERS AND APPLES # AND LIKE CORN EVERYWHERE HE FUCKING HATES CORN # THEY COMPROMISE ON POMEGRANATES (x)
Not sure if that’s a subversive take so much as another trope of Greek mythology and folklore in general tho. Right off the top of my head, this sounds like Circe and her garden of beasts.
i identify with fight club a lot because i also like to express my nonconformity through traditional masculine violence and misogyny. it really goes against what society wants me to do. no wait
I like Fight Club enough because I’m really bad at reading between the lines, like not realizing that Fight Club actually parodies totalitarian conformity. Also I worship its portrayal of anti-capitalist loners despite the fact that they’re portrayed by two incredibly wealthy Hollywood actors who probably own major stock in the company whose coffee shop franchise I’m trying to blow up