Do Books a Misogynist Make?

I had the great fortune of stumbling across Amanda Hess' article, "It Was Like a Pile of Kleenex...", over on Slate this afternoon. I say great fortune because it was a super interesting article about female authors' inability to connect with literature that is widely considered to be part of the Western literary canon; Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski, and others were all discussed by a panel of female writers. If you've read some of the so-called great works of these authors, maybe you have a guess as to why their writing makes women feel the way they do.

The second part of this "great fortune" is in the impact these same works are said to have had on young men. Hess recounts Elif Baufman's anecdote about reading Henry Miller for the first time, only to find that the guy she was dating at the time had lifted his stories up onto a pedestal, internalizing the narrative and becoming much of what she hated about Miller's works. That idea stopped me.

I began to wonder just how much influence a book can have on the formation of identity. Could it truly be the case that a narrative, a foreign perspective can be taken so far as to mold a person? If so, what sort of implications does this have on my beliefs about the impact of video games and other media on personality, actions, etc.?

As it turns out, realizing the truth required little thought. As soon as I began to dissect the idea, having originally thought it ludicrous, my mind was pulled to a rather dark summer over a decade ago. At the height of my hero worship, I was consuming classical epics, comic books, Harry Potter, and more at something of a breakneck pace. I began to envision myself swinging on a strand of silken web toward someone bleating for my help. Naturally, in my dreams, I saved her or him.

The problem, of course, isn't with the dream. At one point or another, we all fly or do something fantastic while we recover from the world. The trouble starts when the line is blurred. Say, for example, you start to map out a costume, a vehicle, and an ideology. Say, just for example, that you begin to build that costume. What if the only thing that stopped you from doing something stupid was a suspicious mother and her ability to convince you of your foolishness?

I still have those costume plans in a box somewhere.

Having grown up digesting fiction and historical literature, I built who I am today. I've long since abandoned my notions of costumed crime-fighting and Hogwarts, but I certainly still dream of it. That mentality, the hero complex as a former love called it, bleeds into everything. It informs my personal, professional, and emotional choices. All of it is founded in the words of someone struggling to spread their own perspective, their own story.

Imagine, then, what it means for young men to grow up reading the misogynist manifestos that are increasingly rare, yet present, these days but were a dime a dozen in the past. Imagine what it means when young men grow up dreaming about objectifying and ruling. I doubt you have to work to hard to see the results. I'm not sure those fantasies end with drawing a costume.