Now now, don't be angry. I am not a woman. I don't read this stuff. I don't care about the sexy emotionally unavailable protagonist and the charming badass girl who understands him.
"But sir, not all women…" ah ah ah. I am not here to bash women, I am here to bash men. Yes I despise this female led revolution. Until I remember my hatred for the male movement far predates that and is far greater.
So lets name names. On the female side we have Yarros, Maas, Gabaldon (she gets the shaft too), Bardugo, etc.
On the male side we have: Martin, Rothfuss, Jordan, Erikson, and whole other host of malcontents and bad guys. Oh yeah, and Robin Hobb is on their team too.
To be clear, the former are my enemies. The latter are my primordial foes. I despise the first, I seek to destroy the second. This has also in its own way diverted my displeasure of "romantasy" because I remembered the other guys.
So the women are bad enough, stuck in romantic delusions. And sexual perversions. But what about Martin? Dany's breast flowing freely in the Dothraki sea? Drogo fingering a thirteen year old with his fist is romantic? Or a dwarf getting a hard on for a naked 12 year old being treated as the spurned lover because he wasn't hot enough, and because she was too shallow to see passed looks and understand the dwarf was the good one all along who would really love her?
Weeks is no better. And don't forget Rothfuss. Or even Erikson. Sanderson avoids sex like the plague, but this just shows how uncomfortable he is about the subject.
Either you are Brent Weeks writing about shapely breasts, or you are Sanderson and have romance with no passion. Women have failed too, but not as badly as the boys.
Narratives aren't pornography. Erotica is NOT pornography. Porn is about getting you horny. It does not bolster the narrative because it reaches without and contorts your emotional state. It does not permit deeper thought because it clouds the reader with a sense of physical satisfaction that exists OUTSIDE the novel.
When dealing with sexual content in a narrative format, it must explore the emotional RAMAFICATIONS of sexual encounters, delving into a deeper truth. It must not be used for self-pleasure as these stints are short, and once the feeling is through the reader is left with nothing. It feels significant in the moment, but offers no meaning either for you or for the narration. That doesn't mean we should Sanderson it and run for the hills, but have a mature take by an author who is not jerking off to his own work. A sober mind if you will. This applies to an assortment of other mental diatribes like hunger, drowsiness, or rage.
Swallowing the pill can lead to potent results but a dry after affect. If you are really hungry you can write pages about your favorite foods. But then once you are full those pages read like gibberish. And artistically treating porn like a metaphor is but a thin veneer of literary bluster that does little to hide the intent which is, like always, self-pleasure.
FYI the women failed in all this too because their stuff is also directed at self-pleasure. But the depravity of the male stuff is far more extensive. making romantasy relatively less intrusive. AKA, the fantasy we consider high end is a rung below the romantasy trash that is being spat out.
by butterweedstrover