I’ve been lamenting over the state of fiction for so long, I got tired of hearing myself bitch about it. I guess bloggers like Vox Day were blissfully unaware.

But now it’s come to his attention and it gave me a good laugh.

No wonder book sales are continuing to decline. Seriously, even the gamma males of science fiction aren’t going to read any of that equine ejectus.

This after he saw the lineup of Reader’s Choice books on Goodreads.

I was an avid reader from a young age, and window-shopping at bookstores was an enjoyable pastime for me until about the late 1980s, when the New York Publishing Cartel choked off pretty much everything I had a desire to read. I finally gave up going to retail bookstores altogether by the mid 1990s, realizing it would never get better.

And we are supposed to believe they’re honestly and truly going to make good, nay, even better, computer games. Really? To quote the Sports Guy: “The lesson, as always, is this: women ruin everything.”

Here is the primary difference between men and women. In the past, women would look at a male-dominated list of book awards and be struck by feelbad because she felt excluded. A man looks at that list, laughs, and thinks, do they really read that shit?

When was the last time men dominated the list of book awards–the ’60s? Well, whenever it was, he’s right.

Porphyry says:

Holy shit, is the future just a bunch of girls masturbating in public with cis-males trying to assist them? Cause that’s essentially what this is the literary equivalent of.

While Daniel said:

Oh Lord. In Memoir there’s a finalist titled “Redefining Realness.” About a trans woman*. His last name is Mock.

My tears of laughter are redefined real. Really redefined real.

*Technically, he’s a trans sister. I hope he’s got a show on the radio.

Then Waterboy asked:

Wait…Anne Rice is writing vampire novels, again? Did she redisunconvert again, or was she somehow able to reconcile glorification of evil with her “Christian” beliefs?

To which Stingray replied:

As I understand it, Ann Rice renounced her faith again. She couldn’t reconcile something or other. Some SJW talking point, I believe.

And Crude added:

Anne Rice’s Christian phase went a bit like this:

Anne: I’m a Christian now! Okay everyone, first order of business: Homosexual sex acts are A-OK. My son’s gay, so I know. Christ would approve of that, so get with the program!
Christianity at large: No.
Anne: This is a hateful religion! I can’t be part of a religion that doesn’t approve of sodomy! There’s no God after all, even if Christ was kind of nice! But Christ would dislike you!

What impresses me most about this exchange is that a dozen different commenters didn’t chime in to bleat: “Not that there’s anything wrong with that…”

Then Stillcho provided this insight:

8 different categories are listed, yet looking at the covers and titles one would be prone to suspect that they are all variations on a romance novel.

And Cataline Sergius sums part of the problem up nicely:

Honestly teenage boys are now actively taught not to read.

Think about it. How would you react to the idea of literature, after you had been force fed a diet a of Margret Atwood, Kate Chopin and Maya Angelou?

After that slog through estrogen soaked quicksand, you would either be a male castrato singing in the choir of SJW feminism. Sniveling grateful for every kick that came your way.

Or if you have kept track of your balls, you would be absolutely too delighted to be done with all this reading bullshit and happy as hell you’d never have to do it again.

I can’t slog any farther through the comment thread without either getting depressed or laughing until I pee where I’m not spozda.

Fortunately there are now some gates not guarded by the pinkshirts, SJWs, homophiles and other Marxists (cultural and otherwise).

My epic rant about traditional publishing back on the old Two-Fisted Blog may be of interest to some.

I threw my hat in the blogosphere a few years ago with the Quixotic notion I could stir up an interest among the average red-blooded American male to read again. Stuff like this drives home the point that it’s hopeless. Even if some average heterosexual dude gets a wild hair up his 4th-point to pause the video game and peruse some available books, when he sees a shelf full of bupkus like this he’ll back up faster than if he realized he just walked into a transgender bar.

And he’ll never bother again.