TITLE: Just read: Female Chauvinist Pigs, by Ariel Levy
DATE: 6:38:00 PM
Ariel Levy, the conservative daughter of hippie-feminists (actually thinly-disguised intellectuals), is conflicted about the state of contemporary sex. At one point she calls it the "overlap of character and chemistry," but throughout the book, she crys "raunch culture."
What is raunch, you may ask? It's the granddaughter of suffragists, it's the bastard child of the 70s-era feminist movement, it's the black sheep sibling of 80s-era objectification. It's the mono-syllabic "hot" that all women are supposedly reduced to become -- as they sadly join the frat party of pop culture, and judge each other all the way to being "like men." However shocking, it's confusing and unsupported.
Levy leaves holes in her research, in her interviews, and in her grammar. Christy Hefner isn't a victim, she's an executive. What's wrong with genderqueer exactly? And with teens seeking a thrill? Mark Morford sums it up like this: "aside from the "thrill" of seeing bits of young flesh and cringing at the 10 million ways teens can find to abuse the English language, there is really nothing of substance here... they simply have yet to do much of anything truly interesting."
In only two places do I hear how Levy truly feels: anxious and aroused and, bored and tense. This would be more exciting as a memoir! In 200+ pages, she's defined nothing more than a fad. And the symptoms of that fad.