I am so angry at the man in this book that I can only read it for short periods.
Of course, I'm supposed to be angry at him. That's the author's intent, but it's why I'm angry at him that makes everything worse.
If he was some kind of comic book villain, I could enjoy hissing and booing at him and rooting for the young girl. He is not a comic book villain. He is the kind of over-focused, unempathetic, fear and anger driven, intelligent, methodical controlling man that you might meet dozens of in any city crowd.
When the is just him, when he stands without the cover of social convention and the camouflage of good manners and social position, I find I want to extinguish him.
This does not make me a particularly nice person but it does tell me a lot about where some of my day-to-day anger comes from.
There is a test that I have never been able to pass. It measures field independent vision. If you have it, you can find dropped car keys easily amongst fallen Autumn leaves without using your fingers. It's a cognitive function rather than an attribute of your eyes. I am exceptionally bad at it.
This book has blown away the leaves that have hidden things from me or left them half seen or half imagined or felt only with my fingertips. Now I can see clearly those things in the male mindset that I would like to see bred out of existence.
I know they teach this book in schools in America. I am now amazed that it hasn't ended up on some banned book list for letting men, or at least the kind of men that seem to get elected to high office in America, be seen too clearly.
Rant over. I'll go back to the book now.