Originally published at: https://boingboing.net/2020/07/03/lets-never-talk-about-this.html
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There a something in men of a certain age that compels them to write horrible cringe-inducing novels. My own father, now 72, took up writing a couple years ago. The first sentences of his freshman effort are seared into my brain:
The assassin stood naked on the hotel balcony. If anyone in the crowd below had bothered to look up, they would have seen her.
An au naturel fight scene ensues, followed by three hundred incomprehensible pages liberally spiced with deeply unsexy gratuitous nudity, racial stupidity, and boomer-style “all she needs is to meet the right man” homophobia.
He self published. No, I won’t provide a link. It’s for your own good.
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Are you familiar with the podcast/book “My Dad Wrote A Porno”?
As for 'Let’s Newer Talk About This Again", it’s added to my list. Thanks!
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I have now, and I’m just… wow.
Alice - What do you think that your dad wrote that sentence?
Jamie- I think he… needs to hang out with my mum a bit more?
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Not really the same thing, but after my grandfather’s death I discovered that he also had a copy of Alain Robbe-Grillet‘s La Maison de rendez-vous. The difference is I kept my copy in the literature section of my library and he, uh, didn’t.
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When I was about 12 I walked in on my profoundly uncultured, Irish, steelworker/farmer father watching an Italian opera he had taped off of a PBS affiliate. Like, this guy made fun of me for liking to read when I was a kid. He read, but only military histories and Zane Grey westerns. Anything else was sissy stuff.
I was bewildered. Unless he’d been drinking he seldom ever did or does more than grunt in response to any topic of conversation that isn’t guns or worker’s rights (the man’s a hillbilly, but he’s an anti-authoritarian, anti-racist, leftist, pro-union hillbilly), so I went and asked my mother what he was doing.
She said something that burned into my mind forever: “it’s got women with their tits out.” 12-year-old me was scandalized, appalled, and suddenly interested in opera. Funnily enough he wasn’t watching a part with that feature when I walked in and when I said it was just two men singing at each other she said he didn’t believe in fast forwarding and once he put the tape in, he’d watch the whole thing. I’d ask him about it now, but I still don’t think he’d do more than grunt.
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This sounds like an interesting book!
It vaguely reminds me of this documentary, which I want to get around to seeing soon:
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