A revolution of medicore men
Paris Lees' memoirs are...quite something
I think we’re going to have to do an emergency Mess We’re In on Paris Lees’ memoirs.
This is the start of it. I’m not making this up. This is real. This isn’t a parody. This is actually how it’s written.
Here’s another bit. (The highlights aren’t mine, by the way. I just grabbed these from a friend in a rush).
See you at the next Women’s Prize!
This is another one of those things that so funny, you can’t look directly at it for too long. I still can’t quite believe it’s real. Smanfa? SMANFA? My friend Bill Moon sent me this Alan Partridge clip to celebrate.
And if you want any more proof that this is a revolution of mediocre men, have a look at this pathetic review in the Guardian by Kadish Morris. It’s a masterpiece in Trying Not To Give A Bad Review And Being Very Vague About Why It’s Good So You Don’t Humiliate Yourself More That You Have To. It reads like a review I would write if the author had kidnapped my dog.
This is the strongest criticism she can manage. “It does, however, ramble in places, while the racist slurs directed at Black and Asian people are glossed over in a way that makes you question why they were even mentioned.” Talk about trans privilege! Can you imagine Martin Amis getting away that lightly!? But I suppose Amis doesn’t have the moral authority that comes with holding a man at gunpoint and then doing bird for it!
On that, by the way, look at the correction at the end of the review.
This review was amended on 24 May to correct an error (a previous version had suggested that Lees held someone at gunpoint; it was her companion who had a gun).
You can almost hear the panicked phone call that brought about that particular change. “Oh, Paris didn’t have the gun. That was the other one. Paris was just…I dunno. Holding the guy’s coat? Something nice like that.”
Because of this change, all mention of the gun has disappeared from the body of the piece. Funny that.
Anyway, if all that hasn’t annoyed you enough, the book is called ‘What It Feels Like For A Girl’, to which there is only one correct response.
I hate, hate, HATE when people write in vernacular like this and get it wrong. It's grating and irritating and lots of other - ings.
And the patronising "ooh look at this authentic working class trans person, how gritty and thrilling" review. Oh, they can both just fuck off.
OMG! I read the Guardian piece and toyed with getting the book out of the library but this is beyond parody. Feeling extra pissed off as someone who has written a proper novel and just had ninth rejection and yet this pile of shite can get published and widely promoted.