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22 March 2007
Marilyn French, the author of The Women’s Room, tells why she is still full of fury that the world remains a place messed up by men.
Short answer; she’s angry because she’s a Western Women, who are nearly always pissed off and moaning about fucking something, and she believes it is all men’s fault because she’s a Western Woman and a feminist to boot, and thus unable to accept any blame for her own misery.
The long answer…well, let’s read the article and sneer at the fucking bitch.
The girl at the Bobbi Brown make-up counter at Barneys wants to know what I’m doing in New York. I tell her that I’m interviewing Marilyn French, who wrote a book in the Seventies called The Women’s Room, bought by 20 million people and read by many more: dog-eared copies passed around neighbourhoods, hidden from husbands, read in secret at kitchen tables when the kids had gone to school. Hailed as the first feminist novel, it was devoured by desperate housewives around the world for its dramatisation of their feelings of rage and frustration, its offer of freedom through sisterhood and radical politics.
And now women have that wonderful freedom to be old and single and angry, not to mention slaving away at soul-crushing jobs. Brave girls.
“Wow!” breathes the girl, a blonde American beauty with flawless skin. “Yeah, wow!” says her colleague, who has a mane of dark hair and scarlet lips, “that’s so cool.” The blonde girl had done a semester of women’s studies at college and was getting married soon: she wanted to keep her career but also to have babies and make a nice home.
Typical dumb greedy bitch; she wants it all – to be a career woman, a housewife and a mother – but can’t comprehend the idea that she can’t. No-one can.