Holy Crap, I Found Something!

There was a blissful time before children and jobs and this whole adult thing during which I didn’t much care what other people had to say about a book; if it looked decent, I bought it and I read it.  This was, of course, also a time during which I was living mostly on someone else’s dime (though I am more likely to pick up a random book once more because I have access to a fantastic library system that’s, well, free).

image via aidanmoher.com

But.  But.  I have less time to dedicate to reading now than I did before.  Simple fact of life being crowded and loving the vast majority of it but being forced to admit that I’m simply not smart enough to alter the space time continuum and give myself ten more hours in a given day, nor am I likely to stumble across a time turner any time soon.  Thusly, these days, I do tend to at least glance at reviews.  My fav sources (yes, fine, I’m a snob): The New York Times Review of Books (which tends to be a little light on my preferred genres, but hey), NPR Books, and the book section of SciFi Now.  I use Goodreads to keep track of where I’ve been and, when I add a book, I often look at the average star rating and then take a brief survey of the reviews for additional tidbits.  My favorite reviews aren’t the “good ones”; they’re the anomalous ones.  Someone who loved a book most people disliked or gave one or two stars to a book the vast majority enjoyed usually has something interesting to say.

I am, currently, reading The Mirror Empire by Kameron Hurley.  Which, so far, I love.  I realized this afternoon that I hadn’t added it to Goodreads yet and logged on to do so, happy to see the rapidly growing pile of four and five star reviews.  Then, a lone 2 star caught my eye.  Hmmm.

I won’t summarize the review here; if you use Goodreads and want to take a look at it, it’s easy enough to find, being the only 2 star The Mirror Empire currently has.  The short version: while he did some story critique in passing at the end, the majority percentage of words were spent discussing the the ways in which the reviewer didn’t like Ms. Hurley’s female dominated world because it was, well, female dominated.

He wasn’t offended by it.  It didn’t cause him to feel triggered in any way.  He clearly states he is not a “prude.”

He then goes on to say he fells Hurley included certain elements in her book only to “shock” her readers.

Well.  That does pose an interesting conundrum.

Let us, for the moment, exclude genuine triggers from this conversation; that isn’t discomfort, it is a serious response to trauma and should be shown some fucking respect.  Let us even exclude that which genuinely offends people.

Let us talk about why it’s good, dare I say, beneficial for us to be uncomfortable every so often.  Let us discuss for a moment, that which gets our hackles up and propels us into the realm of righteously indignant.  I’ll use this review as an example because it’s current to, well, me, but consider the concepts generally applied.

image via viralwomen.com
(click for full comic)

The reviewer takes issue with the following: the majority of the main characters being female; one society has 2 genders, another has 3, and a third has 5; he calls one of the few male mains “weak” because said dude evinces more traditionally “female” wants/needs/emotions; he says he understands rape is present in fiction but can’t conscience the act being perpetrated by females against males (let me state, as I have stated before, rape is never okay, though, as I’ve mentioned previously, there are times in which it is an important part of the story around it).

Again: he is not offended.  He is not upset.  He is just uncomfortable.

Ah, what he could have learned if he had stepped back for a moment and examined why he had the reaction he had.  Maybe he could have learned something.  Something huge.

Change is hard.  I’m not sure I know a single person who enjoys it, though some adapt to it more easily than others.  Change makes us uncomfortable.  But if we don’t experience new things, if we don’t grow, if we don’t jump into the frigid lake or out of that plane or have that baby or decide firmly not to have that baby, we learn nothing.

It then follows that, when something makes us uncomfortable, it behooves us to make an attempt to figure out why instead of hiding it under the napkin or feeding it to the dog.  If this particular reviewer had held his discomfort up to the light and examined it honestly, he may have discovered the reason he was uncomfortable is because he is used to being a dominant male and that, for a brief instant, he understood what it was to be female in fantasy, and, even more mind-blowing, in reality and it made him feel squidgy.  Squidgy because he was forced to acknowledge that even now, in 2014, all people are not created equal.  That many men are still uncomfortable with strong, independent women.  With women in positions of power.  With sexually dominant woman (as in women who take charge in the bedroom not women who assault men — they deserve the same punishments men who assault women and that needs to stop altogether).

Made you look!

And that is time for that to change.  Time for that to change in fiction and in life.

So.  Next time something in a book makes you uncomfortable, take a moment to figure out why.  If it’s a matter of genuine offense or upset, throw the thing out the window.  But if it’s just that little crawly feeling in your gut, it may be you (by which I mean all of us) in need of the attitude adjustment, not the author.  She is not a bad writer because she makes you feel uncomfortable, just like you aren’t a bad person for being uncomfortable.  Change is terrifying.

Change also explodes suns and makes planets.

Make a planet.  We need more of those things.