January 21, 2018

The funny thing about her is when I read her…I have to keep reminding myself this is woman and not a man writing about not women per se. Rather it is the soitariness of womanhood…the hood being a sort of cloistered state of cosy inderism that only women would really know about….which is a paradox within a paradox. Because if she writes about women in the way that only a woman can feel and express…why would I ever for one moment assume that a man is writing all this?

I guess its because all her characters are so unlike women…they’re masculine. Maybe not in a gruff sense, but there is certainly a hardness and determined will about them that suggest what she writes about can only come from knowing more about how it feels to see the world like a man.

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