* Welsh novelist Tessa Hadley writes some fascinating fiction. Her novels tend to be somewhat episodic, like short story collections tenuously strung together, but there are some magnificent anti-feminist insights in them.
Her third novel, “The Master Bedroom”, portrays an early-40s Jewish literature professor’s midlife crisis, trying to seduce a married old flame while his son horndogs after her. The old flame’s current wife is an elementary school teacher and SJW maniac, whose long mental breakdown begins with her storming out of a Handel recital because Classical music is, according to her, “evil”.
Hadley’s use of musical tastes for psychological profiling is of immense interest. Her debut novel “Accidents in the Home” has the late 20s, PhD candidate and cohabiting mother become obsessed with snagging the club promoter boyfriend of her childhood BFF, a fashion model who wears a lip ring. On family holiday in Ireland, she sulks around alone, takes up smoking cigarettes and listens nonstop to techno mixes on her headphones, self-consciously profanating her mind and her middle class existence, longing for a cold slick world of postmodern emptiness, fantasizing about the promoter’s apartment full of cold chrome fixtures.
Fay Weldon’s late novels, like the horrific “She May Not Leave”, have turned into delirious anti-feminist satires. Weldon’s actually a better writer than Hadley (more energetic and more rabidly funny), and her Conspiracy Theorist’s Tale in “The Spa” is a full-out anti-Cultural Marxist manifesto.
* Wolfe’s I am Charlotte Simmons-even the church girls get hypergamy. Charlotte has spergy SJW Adam in the friend zone, longs for ZFG uber-Alpha Hoyt, and is an alpha widow notwithstanding snagging JoJo the basketball player (her beta bucks). So much sad truth in that one.
