Last line: Here, as in so many other things, the “thee“, that I dread may have been the “I“ all along.
I tell myself that these tiny scraps of relief and convenience and advantage will eventually accumulate into something transformative --that one day I will ascend to an echelon where I won't have to compromise anymore, where I can really behave thoughtfully, where some imaginary future actions will cancel out all the self-interested scrabbling that came before. This is a useful fantasy, I think, but it's a fantasy.
He [Trump] did all this out of a sort of demented, maniacal salesman's instinct, grabbing rough handfuls of all the things that half-secretly thrilled his base most--violence, dominance, the disowning of the social contract-- and tossing them at crowds that roared and roared.
Those girls are all so brave, where adult heroines are all so bitter, and I so strongly dislike what has become clear since childhood: the facts of visibility and exclusion in these stories, and the way bravery and bitterness get so concentrated in literature, for women, because there's not enough space for them in the real world.
I wanted to love this more but I just didnt. I dont necessarily blame the author bc part of it I think is the essay format not letting the book flow for me. Her writing is excellent but some chapters just went on forever and some I never saw a clear point. However, some of the issues she writes about def needed to be talked about.