So anyone who knows me knows I have this thing for Junot. Drown, his first collection of stories, was one of those books that made me unravel with envy. Given my Junot-love, a few guys have asked me, don’t you have a problem with his misogyny? And I’ve always been like, what?
Well. I just finished Oscar Wao and I have to say, I’m conflicted. It’s good. Punchy, breezy, seductive, serious, a real pot-boiler. But that whole middle section about Oscar’s mom is so rife with pussy fascination that even I found it hard to take. I can see how it works (considering who the narrator is), but at the same time, is it really necessary to pummel us with all that male gaze-y lust? Hmmm. I’m still figuring that one out.