One of the dynamics that doesn’t get discussed a lot when it comes to pregnancy is the disparate ways in which men and women experience the process. Understandably, 99 percent of the focus is put on the woman. It’s her body that is being physically and psychically transformed into a vessel of life, that is suddenly gestating an entirely new human. She is likely experiencing nausea, indigestion, swelling, a sensitivity to smell and other symptoms I decline to detail. In the case of my wife, she was literally glowing. To put it bluntly, the pregnant woman is the show. The man in question is basically support staff. And in our culture, which, for all our talk of enlightenment remains devoutly male-centered, this is a tough gig for a lot of men. We’re used to feeling that we’re the show — our accomplishments, our ideas, our jokes. We move through the world habituated to that kind of entitlement. Then pregnancy comes along and we’re suddenly confronted by the truth that, in the grand scheme of things, we are not at all the show.
I work at my university's bookstore and every semester one of the professors teaches 'Fight Club' and it's so exciting to see boxes of it come in and rather disappointed to see people return their rented copied or sell them back. Once I returned a copy and the student wrote the synopsis of each chapter under the heading and I freaked out. My manager said it was in otherwise fine condition so we couldn't charge her but what spoilers. How do you feel about your work being taught ?
That fact that ‘Fight Club’ is being taught seems — to me — to underscore the dearth of novels that explore male issues. The past years have given us so many books, from ‘The Color Purple’ to ‘The Joy Luck Club’ to ‘How to Make an American Quilt,’ which depict women in groups and relationship, but almost no books depicting social models for men. That’s my two cents worth.
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL GOOD ONE CHUCK PALAHNIUK
I actually googled the definition of “dearth” because I thought surely not, and yet there you go: “the dearth of novels that explore male issues.”
I keep trying to find a way to get my ire up about this but I can’t because of the oxygen deprivation to my brain when my blood curdled upon reading that dumbass sentence.
I keep reading this, hoping I’m missing out on some very subtle form of sarcasm or satire… Because if this concluded with a winky face emoji, I’d be all RIGHT ON.
I wish it were different. I wish that every woman whose actions and worth are parsed and restricted, congratulated and condemned in this country might just once get to wheel around—on the committee that doesn’t believe their medically corroborated story of assault, or on the protesters who tell them that termination is a sin they will regret, or on the boss who tells them he doesn’t believe in their sexual choices, or on the mid-fifties man who congratulates them, or himself, on finding them appealing deep into their dotage—and go black in the eyes and say, “I don’t fucking care if you like it.”