Damp Patches, Patricia Highsmith and Misogyny

Damp Patches, Patricia Highsmith and Misogyny

Is misogyny OK if women indulge themselves? Two female authors revelled in hating their own sex. I’ve just finished Little Tales of Misogyny, by Patricia Highsmith, and Girl Friday, by Charlotte Roche. The latter is not yet available in English and the original German title is Ein Mädchen für Alles.  There is the first fascinating conundrum. Charlotte Roche has a British passport, because her parents … Continue reading Damp Patches, Patricia Highsmith and Misogyny

The Temple Of The Heavenly Elephant

The Temple Of The Heavenly Elephant

‘Look. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t wait to pay for the bloody bananas.’ The magistrate pursed her thin lips. ‘So you admit stealing them?’ ‘Yea, yea, course I do. It was a fuckin’ emergency.’ The lips almost disappeared. ‘Watch your language in court,’ she snapped. ‘Sorry your honour.’ ‘You may continue.’ ‘Look, she was running amok on that forecourt. What with all … Continue reading The Temple Of The Heavenly Elephant

Ransom

Ransom

Kells and I used to play this game in our early teens. It usually started with one of us posing some off-the-wall question or scenario. One day during winter break, one of us asked – and now I don’t recall who – ‘What if you got kidnapped and held for ransom?’ ‘Hmm. Depends maybe who the kidnappers are.’ ‘OK. It’s not kidnappers, plural; but just … Continue reading Ransom

Wendy Swings

Wendy Swings

Wendy had read about swingers in books and magazines. A boy she’d dated in high school had showed her a movie – a mainstream movie, not porno – about wife-swapping. She wondered what it would be like to be a swinger, but married to a devout Jehovah’s Witness there wasn’t much likelihood of it happening; Mike wouldn’t want to swap her for anything except maybe a snazzier Harley Davison. Continue reading Wendy Swings