Evo-psych is a favorite pet topic of R Scott Bakker and assorted shitlords. It’s the domain of the uneducated who nevertheless believe they are brilliant; evo-psych is popular pseudo-science at its worst, used to justify roughly every form of bigotry you can imagine (and a few you can’t), with special attention paid to misogyny.
Imagine my surprise to discover that it’s also an obsession in the lofty genre of paranormal romance/urban fantasy.
“Don’t you understand? You, your subconscious or whatever wanted a life mate, and you wanted me bad. Something deep inside you wants to be loved, manu. All you have to do is let me.” –Shirin Dubbin, Dream’s Dark Kiss
Apart from being rapist logic, this line of thinking–”your subconscious wanted a life mate”–lines up neatly with the rhetoric and reasoning of real-world misogynistic creeps. Continue reading
RAPE TRIGGER WARNING
I come bearing a gift.
By which I mean bearing a curse. What’s this curse? Over 3,000 words of rapefare from that most favored of punching bags, R. Scott Bakker. Specifically it’s from his non-fantasy thing–I’m not sure what genre it falls into other than “mumbo-jumbo”–Neuropath. Now, by and by I’ve come to view Bakker as rather harmless if socially incompetent; his boon companion Peter Watts is a far more loathsome piece of shit (although anecdotes have it that Watts is, in real life, quite socially incompetent as well and that translates to a certain kind of schoolboy pettiness. Now imagine if he, Watts and Pat have a drink together at a con–but never mind, that’s a vile image: so much smug idiocy concentrated in one place!).
Then someone told me about the rapefare in Neuropath.
Here follows a close reading and dissection of about 3,000 words (more than 10 pages in paper!) of rapefare. I was warned it would be disgusting, but after a while I found it merely hilarious. There’s a weird, off-putting tone to this as of a schoolboy dipping a stick into his own fresh excrement, then running at people to wave said stick in their faces. This isn’t edgy, haunting, horrifying. It’s very simply disgusting in the same childish, mindless way and suggests that Bakker perhaps needs to be house-broken. If Chris Priest believes Charles Stross to be an incontinent puppy, then one can only imagine Bakker as a piglet suffering from explosive diarrhea. It rolls around in–well, you know. Obeying its natural instincts, as it were.