I Hate Men
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4.4 • 21개의 평가
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- US$12.99
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The feminist book they tried to ban in France
‘A delightful book’ Roxane Gay
Women, especially feminists and lesbians, have long been accused of hating men. Our instinct is to deny it at all costs. (After all, women have been burnt at the stake for admitting to less.)
But what if mistrusting men, disliking men – and yes, maybe even hating men – is, in fact, a useful response to sexism? What if such a response offers a way out of oppression, a means of resistance? What if it even offers a path to joy, solidarity and sisterhood?
In this sparkling essay, as mischievous and provocative as it is urgent and serious, Pauline Harmange interrogates modern attitudes to feminism and makes a rallying cry for women to find a greater love for each other – and themselves.
Reviews
‘A good book, written from a burning heart but with a cool head’ The Times
‘Rousing … a call to liberation. Her writing is full of hope, unwavering in its trust of other women and their abilities’ Independent
‘An exhilarating essay to be read in one sitting’ Libération
‘Written in wise prose, devoid of excess or rage, I Hate Men explores the terrain of contemporary feminism, its arguments in keeping with those of writers like Rebecca Solnit, as well as the movement's key ideas: patriarchy, the mental load, #MeToo and solidarity’ L’Obs
About the author
I Hate Men is Pauline Harmange’s first book. Originally published by Monstrograph as Moi les hommes, je les déteste, it was subject to a censorship attempt by an adviser in France’s Ministry for Gender Equality in September 2020. Sales skyrocketed as a result and the French rights were then acquired by Éditions du Seuil, and the foreign rights snapped up by publishers around the world. Pauline Harmange lives in Lille.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
French blogger and women's rights activist Harmange debuts with a provocative yet unconvincing argument that misandry, or the hatred of all men, is healthy, liberating, and even joyful for women. Calling on women to stop being afraid of accusations of emotionality and to embrace their rage at misogyny, sexual violence, and the patriarchy, Harmange characterizes feminism as "the interface between private anger... and public anger." She proclaims her lack of sympathy for men's concerns and calls on women to stop praising men for their "pathetically trivial" attempts toward gender equality. Declaring that "female solidarity is never frivolous," Harmange celebrates the power of women-only communities, and vows to make "sisterhood compass." Unfortunately, a rather bland feminist critique of her own mostly happy straight marriage steals the thunder of her argument, making the issue more about men's socialization rather than their essential nature, and her suggestion to reject compulsory heterosexuality in favor of single childlessness feels rather narrow-minded and out of touch with the reality of women's lives. Ultimately, Harmange's take feels more like a bloodless thought exercise than an authentic worldview. This manifesto packs a weak punch.
