I am privileged. I have never found myself in a rapeable situation. But, more importantly, I have never allowed myself to be in that kind of situation. And let me tell you, I have been in some doozies. Like stopping random people on the south side of the City of Chicago, near 24th and Rockwell actually, asking them how to shift gears on a manual volkswagen cuz my boyfriend is passed out drunk.
Here is the thing. A certain well-known blogger and author did a column on rape being used unnecessarily as a plot device. This is stupid. Rape is not a plot device. If it is in the story it is to authenticate the historical period. It is not a trope. It is a reality. And to avoid talking about it is disingenuous. So maybe it wasn’t used as a plot device. Maybe it was a somewhat strained attempt to introduce a reality into the story. Or, we could have people saying, “Gee, that was a swell story. It is nice that people didn’t rape or even know what it was in those times.”
And how profound is this? “Truth in fiction is about authenticity.” What the fuck does that mean? Since we are trying to redefine everything else in our culture, at least semantically, are we going to redefine “fiction”or “truth” and/or “authenticity”. I mean, I have seriously wasted my whole long fucking life if, all along, I have been looking for truth and authenticity in my fiction reading. Fuck you, Raggedy Ann.
Comments closed, Chuck? You’re not the boss of my comments.