mariness

Summing up journalism today:

New York Times asks if they should be, you know, checking statements to see if they are true.

Good lord, New York Times, even I – a non journalist – do some (very basic) fact checking, both on this blog, my Tor posts and even in my science fiction where I'm allowed to just make stuff up.

Just reading this made me feel even dizzier on a medium day, so I'm going to be stepping off the computer for a bit. Expect the usual L'Engle post to pop up on Tor.com sometime this afternoon.

To Ginia Bellafonte of the New York Times:

STOP.

Seriously, again, STOP.

I mean, yes, it's great that you took a moment to respond to the overwhelming criticism of your condescending "women don't read fantasy" review. It's not great that your response included this:

:As I wrote in the review, I realize that there are women who love fantasy, but I don’t know any and that is the truth: I don’t know any. At the same time, I am sure that there are fantasy fans out there who may not know a single person who worships at the altar of quietly hewn domestic novels or celebrates the films of Nicole Holofcener or is engrossed by reruns of “House.”

Ms. Bellafonte.

THESE ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE INTERESTS.

Not entirely irrelevant sidenote: I was introduced to that rather domestic novel Pride and Prejudice by my grandfather, mostly because he was horrified that I was reading and filling my little head with the very bad Famous Five novels by Enid Blyton. (What can I say? When I was a kid I had no taste.) For Americans unfamiliar with the Famous Five novels, they are an inane, unrealistic, poorly written and mildly racist series of, yes, Ms. Bellafonte, "boy fiction." (What can I say? I had no taste back then and I admit the racism went right over my little head.) Continuing this sidenote, I went to Friends with Money with a straight male friend at his suggestion, and – gasp – we didn't die. Continuing with the continued sidenote, I first watched House at the instigation of a male friend, and one of the most enthusiastic current fans I know is a guy. The loudest anti-fan I know (largely because of the House-Cuddy relationship this season)? A woman.

On the other side, my mother, who likes Star Trek but was bored to tears by The Lord of the Rings ("it just went on and on and on. Did it ever stop?") hates House. With a passion. (She is a registered nurse driven to distraction by the ongoing errors on medical dramas; she also hated ER.) She also thought Friends with Money was annoying.

I can assure you that I have friends of both genders who both read fantasy and are engrossed by reruns of House. I can also assure you that I can and do read both fantasy and quietly hewn domestic novels. And while my friends, admittedly, do tend to be geeks and fantasy readers, I have been known to speak to and even make friends with people who are not. (Not date, though. I have to draw the line somewhere.) You, by your own confession, have never made friends with geeks. (Your loss. We tell better jokes.) And I'll also note that it's more than barely possible that you do have women friends who love this stuff, but are afraid to discuss it with you because of your dismissive attitude.

The real problem here is that despite letters, emails, a loud blog cry, and even a response from George RR Martin, you continue to assume that gender dictates a response to art.

I have no problems with you disliking Game of Thrones. It certainly isn't everybody's cup of tea – I know quite a lot of people who don't particularly want to watch or read a series that contains a lot of violence and sex where beloved characters die. This includes, as I noted before, both men and women, and it includes several fantasy readers who just didn't like the series. That's ok. I've even stayed friends with these people.

But I do have a problem with your continued insistence that I need to respond to art, be this books, movies or television shows in a certain way because I'm a woman, that my likes and dislikes are determined by gender.

No.

I hated this back when I was seven and I was told I had to be Princess Leia because girls couldn't be Jedi or be smugglers with the cool starships, even if Princess Leia had a pretty cool gun and got to order the Wookie around. I hate this now.

So stop. Just. Stop.

Oh, for the love of god, New York Times, STOP.

STOP.

Thanks to their new paywall, I've recently managed to successfully avoid the various annoyances of the New York Times. Until television critic Ryan McGree (who, I'd like to note, was not particularly enthusiastic about HBO's upcoming Game of Thrones, but that's ok; I don't expect everybody – or even most people – to like it) pointed me to – or more accurately, warned me off from -- The New York Times review of Game of Thrones.

The reviewer didn't like it.

That's ok. What is not ok is this bit:

The imagined historical universe of “Game of Thrones” gives license for unhindered bed-jumping — here sibling intimacy is hardly confined to emotional exchange.
The true perversion, though, is the sense you get that all of this illicitness has been tossed in as a little something for the ladies, out of a justifiable fear, perhaps, that no woman alive would watch otherwise. While I do not doubt that there are women in the world who read books like Mr. Martin’s, I can honestly say that I have never met a single woman who has stood up in indignation at her book club and refused to read the latest from Lorrie Moore unless everyone agreed to “The Hobbit” first. “Game of Thrones” is boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half.

This is not the first time the New York Times has, to use their own word, patronizingly assured us that women just don't like all that fantasy stuff. That fantasy is just for the guys. And yes, for the record, a couple of my female friends didn't like The Game of Thrones either. But also for the record, a couple of my guy friends also hated the series or couldn't get into it. This isn't a gender thing.

So, let me be clear, New York Times. I'm a girl. I'm even a girl who – gasp – likes to wear dresses from time to time. I am a girl who loves (good) chick flicks and Pride and Prejudice and hot baths with lots of bubble baths. That sort of thing. I'm also a girl who has hated several chick flicks and chick books and that sort of thing.

I'm also a girl who loves dragons, swordfighting, zombies and all that stuff. I'm a girl who has happily devoured books about men, or books with mostly male characters. And I'm a girl who has happily devoured books featuring the adventures of girls and women in fantasy worlds.

And I'm not alone. News flash: women don't just read and watch this stuff, they also write it. And as a writer, I'm here to tell you: you don't write fantasy unless you really, really love fantasy. Trust me on this one. And as a reader, I'm here to tell you: having girls and women in fantasy books is not a new thing, and it wasn't done as a "little something for the ladies."

If you don't like Game of Thrones, fine. But don't drag in this sort of crap. And stop telling me that I can't like this sort of thing because I'm a girl.

(Also, for the record, I am not in a book club, and I have never read Lorrie Moore. But if I were in a book club, yes, I would strongly suggest that everyone, but everyone, read The Hobbit just because it's such a satisfying book, even if The Hobbit is all about the guys, well before we read Lorrie Moore.)