Today, I saw the videos you posted where you “pranked” teenage girls by running up behind them, grabbing them around the waist, and then running away with them while they were trying to get into VidCon. I’m one of the people who was instantly upset and disgusted by your behavior,…
From the black jazz clubs on Central Avenue in Watts, to the tidy homes of the war widows he cons, Louis Greenberg lives life on the outside. No matter how charming and passionate he is, an outsider he will always be. He is white, a Jew, and that never goes away.
“You’d think the very thought of a romance writer would bring a smile to people’s lips. Ah, how nice. Love. Making love. Laughter. Kissing. But no, the world is upside down as far as I can see, and romances and their writers are ridiculed, hisses and generally spat upon. For what reason? One of my favorites is that women who read them might get mixed up about reality and imagine a man is going to rescue them from Life. According to this theory, women are so stupid that they can’t tell a story from reality. Is anyone worried that the MEN who read spy thrillers are going to go after their neighbors with an automatic weapon? No, I don’t remember anyone thinking that. Nor do I remember anyone worrying about murder mysteries or science fiction. It just seems to be dumb ol’ women who might think some gorgeous, thoughtful, giving hunk is going to rescue them. Honey, if any woman thought a gorgeous hunk was going to rescue her, romance novels wouldn’t be forty percent of the publishing industry.”—
Remembrance (Jude Deveraux)
I cannot begin to tell you how much I agree with this. It infuriates me that there is a general conception that women are so moronic and infantile that they cannot separate fiction from reality, and that the reading of romance will somehow create the expectation that a duke/spy/SEAL/vampire is our only viable romantic partner, and anything less will result in a catastrophic mental collapse. I’m looking at you, Flaubert.
Women know the difference between fiction and reality. What romance does is teach us the value of valuing ourselves, and I refuse to be ridiculed for that.