Quote:
Originally Posted by ardentfemme
Y'all, I'm reading the most Male Author book I've ever read. The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It's critically acclaimed, which makes me livid.
The protagonist is a habitual cheater and womanizer who has absolutely no understanding of female desire. (To say nothing of the female orgasm.)
There's a great passage in which one of his lovers reflects that she wants to feel weak and violated during intercourse.
Then there's another in which the dude doesn't want to give their dog a masculine name because she'll develop "homosexual tendencies."
My favorite part is when he leaves Switzerland to return to his wife in Prague because he loves her and can't live without her. Only to discover immediately upon reuniting with her that he wants to bang other women ASAP.
This book's only redeeming quality is that I'm finding myself aroused thinking about all the ways in which I want to have sex that are the complete antithesis of what this dude is continually fantasizing and describing in nauseating detail.
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You made it further than me. I got so fucking annoyed and bored by the book about 1/3 of the way in - and I concur, it's the most male author book I've ever read in my life - I just put it down and didn't bother finishing it.
But I do that. I don't finish books I don't like. Which might make it hard for me to give a book review of a book I didn't like as I've likely buggered off. If I haven't liked it 30% of the way in, I'm not going to like it any more of the way in, I learned that in my 20s. So I stopped forcing myself to read books that bore the fuck out of me or annoy me when I was 33.
So I can give the review of the first 1/3rd of books that annoyed or bored me. Would that be passable?
"at page 112 I sent it on to the free book place because I lost all hope that anything would interest me."