Now something weird happened, and I think I will vent my frustration and my preoccupation here.
Sorry to use you guys as a lightning rod, but sometimes blogs are also useful as safety valves.
The thing goes like this.
I am told that many of the ills of our current culture depend on the fact that we grew up with the Classics, that are basically books written by misogynistic, racist white heterosexual males, and therefore we all turned out—well, bad.
Having enjoyed the works of, say, Charles Dickens, I am obviously a misogynist with little or no respect for other cultures1.
The thing, in all honesty, reminded me of the old George Orwell warning, that any kid growing up with Tarzan would turn into an animal-killing big game enthusiast.
Is it possible?
Indeed it is.
Is it a given? Thank goodness no. Continue reading