The subtle sexism of ‘feminist’ Democrats
If you claim to be an ally to women, try to understand those who don’t share your views
If you claim to be an ally to women, try to understand those who don’t share your views
How will we remember the great musicians of the past?
Her rise to fame and influence was based on her skill and determination at sidelining rivals
Intersectionality comes for all
We must stand up for women who dare to tell the truth
In Canada, romance isn’t dead
The constant search for validation on the internet brings out the worst in us
Thank you, Shell, for finally doing the right thing
Symptoms include seeing sexism everywhere and forgetting Tulsi is still in the race
Digital media is concerned with the trauma of women only inasmuch as it can create an effective spectacle of the grotesque
The crusade to cancel my talk at Toronto Public Library
Will the Democrats confront the erosion of women’s rights at their LGBTQ town hall?
Refinery29 and GLAAD have torn up the dictionary
It’s a full-time job
The message is politically confused and an admission of unconscious bigotry
The winter of digital media discontent continues
If you don’t conform to the programme, you’re Not One of Us
I got some bad news this week. I discovered that I’m a ‘privileged, white male’. It was my agent who broke it to me. We were talking about the trouble he’s having in finding a publisher for my book — a work of non-fiction — when the following exchange took place. Me: What’s wrong with my book? Agent: There’s nothing wrong with your book. It’s brilliant. It’s moving. It’s funny. Me: OK. So what’s the problem? Agent: You’re the problem. Me: Excuse me? Agent: You’re a middle-aged, privileged white man. You’re out of fashion — and so is your book. Publishers think you’re too male. Too white. Things are difficult
It’s because it’s the land of the loner that the United States is so loved or loathed. Yet to me the most beguiling novels that have zipped across the Atlantic in the past half-century or so are mostly about groups, specifically groups on campus, usually a rather classy campus at that. Mary McCarthy’s Group were at Vassar; Donna Tartt’s The Secret History is set in an elite liberal arts college in Vermont. Even The Catcher in the Rye, though legendary as a portrait of moody adolescence, is also a brilliant picture of life at the sort of college Salinger himself went to. But no novelist I can think of has