It’s been amusing to see all the mentions of Caitlin Flanagan cropping up everywhere today. Is she the new Dave Eggers? I see she’s a part of CultureBox on Slate this week, with Barbara Ehrenreich, which I think is interesting as I had thought independently, when evaluating Ms. Flanagan a few weeks ago, that Barbara E. would probably punch her in the nose if they ever met. And now, here they are, emailing. I can only hope that Barbara E. loses her composure by the end of the week and unleashes some unholy whup-ass.
GMB offers a font of hilarious observations about Flanagan and her writing, from which I have selected this:
What does it say that the New Yorker hires some chick who writes about being the happy homemaker and staying home when she has a career besides being a mommy, namely writing about being a mommy (and wife). Think she sucks, go to TBogg and read his fabulous musings on Meghan Cox Gurdon, “world’s worst mother.” It’s a trend, just like reality tv. All corporate media want these I’m-so-happy-being-a-real-woman “writers,” who, it should be noted, must not be entirely happy just being a mommy or they wouldn’t want people to praise (and pay them) for writing about their lives in print….
Caitlin et al. are the Olive Gardens of writing. Sure, lots of folks may find comfort in not being challenged and in knowing ahead of time what they are going to get (unlimited salad!), but face facts, if you want to eat really good Italian food, you don’t do Olive Garden.
I wouldn’t be surprised if my library allows booksellers one day… they are coming up with plans to open a coffee bar in a to-be-converted copy room.