I haven’t any right to criticise books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticise Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Everytime I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.
They tried making me read it in school and I just re-read the plot synopsis and I still don’t get why this book is so popular. Everything about it is so fucking boring.
But then again maybe the reason it doesn’t resonate with me is because I wasn’t raised to fantasize about finding a rich, hot husband… you know, as a cis man.
I haven’t any right to criticise books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticise Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Everytime I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.
They tried making me read it in school and I just re-read the plot synopsis and I still don’t get why this book is so popular. Everything about it is so fucking boring.
But then again maybe the reason it doesn’t resonate with me is because I wasn’t raised to fantasize about finding a rich, hot husband… you know, as a cis man.
Hey, maybe I’m wrong not seeking a hot, rich husband. Maybe this is why I can’t find true happiness in life. You know, as a fellow cis man.