Tuesday, August 21, 2018
We Were Liars by E. Lockhart
If you are reading pop fiction, and if there is an old white guy in the book, he is gonna be racist. What the hell, people? Do you not see the irony of so predictably assigning that characteristic to a certain type of person? Jesus. Remember the 60s? That was us! We were trying to help the Civil Rights Movement long before you were even born to fulfill your post-racial destiny doing the Whip Nae Nae. The problem here is really more about words. I admit that we don't always keep up with the changing vocabulary around race and sexuality and things like that. But just because I don't know the word cisgender (thank you Jackson) does not mean that I am a bigot. You know who you should be worried about? Young racists! These fuckers are dangerous, and they know how to use social media. And they get to vote like 40 more times. So why don't you leave us alone for once and go after a real problem. They're not hard to find these days - it's like a coming out party for racists in this country. Anyway - Harris Taft, the racist in this book, is a rich, scabby jerk, and the book seems great as his whole rich family is going to get their comeuppance from the younger, smarter generation (they all think they are, don't they?). But then, in one of the worst plot twists of all time, it turns out, and this is what my grandson told me is called a spoiler alert, they are all dead! The whole time! And it's not like The Sixth Sense, when all of sudden everything makes sense. It's more like all of a sudden, you throw the book across the room and make a gimlet. Screw it.