What is lurking in Orson Scott Card’s closet?

Bless me father, for I have sinned: I tried to read Orson Scott Card!

Specifically, Lost Boys, a 1992 thriller that I was able to get as a free ebook. I have to admit to a weird on-and-off fascination with Card that was rekindled by the recent proposed boycott of the Ender’s Game movie. Most of the fascination doesn’t come from the beauty of Card’s storytelling–it’s pretty easy for me to boycott Ender’s Game, frankly–but rather from his strident anger about the existence of homosexuality, combined with his propensity to write about child abuse and underage encounters. I have a prurient interest in his prurient interests. Continue reading →

A fight in Paul Dacre’s madhouse

Hooray, it’s time for a fight between Suzanne Moore and Liz Jones! Well, more of a swipe from Moore against Jones. Jones, the fashion editor of the Daily Mail (my god), has published a memoir of her miserable life, and Guardianista Moore doesn’t like it very much at all.

I have to confess that I’m fascinated by Liz Jones’s trainwreckery. First of all, because she’s a trainwreck, but secondly, Jones’s confessional writings destroy a certain lady-magazine lie–the lie being that if you keep your body in good shape and make sure to be pretty in a certain sort of way, then everything will turn out all right. Jones’s tragedy is that despite working in the lady-magazine industry, despite buying armloads of expensive clothes and slathering her skin with every potion known to humankind, she hasn’t achieved the other lady-magazine goals–a man, a baby, a house in the country, and so on. Her story is one of constant failure to live up to an impossible ideal that she doesn’t seem to really desire but strives towards nonetheless. Continue reading →