The Red Pill Chapter 2
Chapter 1 was difficult for some people because of the suicide content, but happily, that’s behind us, hopefully never to be mentioned again. Andrew is Moving On:
Two weeks later Andrew was still in a shell but not quite the zombie he’d been. Throwing himself into work dulled the pain and at least the numbers and spreadsheets wouldn’t lie to him.
Apparently he’s never heard of lies, damned lies, and statistics. Anyway, he’s home for a family dinner with his mom, his dad, and his sister Tracy. Being a single female, Tracy of course has to embody every negative trait the author can think of:
She was in her second year of grad school but still lived at home, unlike Andrew who moved out of the house for good the summer after freshman year.
He knew his son was going through a rough time. They had talked about his breakup with Natalie and he couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Kids were a lot different today than when he grew up. They seemed to have so many choices and distractions these days. He hoped his son would follow in his footsteps. Being a certified public accountant wasn’t the most exciting career but it was steady and dependable.
Let’s talk about sentence length.
Words per sentence in this paragraph: 10, 17, 11, 11, 9, 16. The longest sentence is not even twice the length of the shortest. The result is a monotonous, unfocused passage with no sense of rhythm or fluency and no clues as to what we’re supposed to focus on. Compare that to a random passage from Dorothy Sayers’ Busman’s Holiday, since that’s what I happen to be reading:
“Well–” began Kirk; but, after all, what could he expect this short-sighted old gentleman to notice? Signs of a struggle? Fingerprints on a door? Foot marks on the path? Scarcely. Mr. Goodacre would possibly have noticed a full-sized corpse, if he had happened to trip over it, but probably nothing smaller.
16, 4, 4, 5, 1, 21. It starts with a mid-length “topic sentence,” then a series of small fragments to draw us on, and finally wraps up with a longer sentence. The result is a much more fluent, engaging passage. Then again, Dorothy Sayers actually knows how to write.
Doad: Yeah, this Andrew guy seems like a keeper. Anyhow, apparently being a CPA is the noble thing to do in life.
Me: The CPA thing is supposed to show what a beta his dad is, working a boring job to care for his family.
Since the western world unfairly privileges women, Andrew is buried under student loans because his parents chose not to pay for his tuition so that they could pay for Tracy instead:
A free ride? That’s what Tracy had: no job, no rent, no student loans, their parents were paying her way and for what? A feminist studies degree with plans to continue on for a Phd.. What was she ever going to do with that, teach school and write papers?
If I were going to point out every mistake like “feminist studies” and the fabled MRA double period, I’d be here for the rest of my life. Instead, have this:
And, of course, she has Lesbian Hair:
a short bob haircut with random colors of black, brown, pink and a shock of dark blue hanging to one side
Doad: I like her hair.
Me: Blue and pink at the same time? Feminists have much better taste.
Doad: Indeed. Unless she’d been dressing up as rainbow dash.
“It’s interesting how men react when a woman decides to move on. We were actually talking about this in my advanced gender studies class last week-,”
Doad: It’s funny that it says she watches it unfold like the discussion in the class said it would–I’m not sure if it’s intentional but the scene almost implies she’s right about his reaction.
Me: Yeah, there’s a whole thing with straw feminists (and straw characters in general)actually turning out to be right.
Me: I’m just amused that the gender-studies class is talking about what men do when women dump them.
Doad: You know when you get a bunch of women together they just discuss guys.
Me: Aside from the obvious “absolutely no clue what women do in their stupid womany classes,” it actually brings us back to the Red Pill aspect. These guys are proud that they’re getting away from those terrible women, but then they spend all their time obsessing over them, as seen in this book. So they imagine that feminists are the converse: Women who hate men but also spend all their time obsessing over them.
“Charles!” Joan used the same tone with him as she used with her son.
A henpecked husband, naturally.
“It’s not true, Dad,” Andrew stammered. “I didn’t hit her! I love Natalie! She cheated with all these guys and I tried everything, I did everything I’m supposed to do and she just broke my heart… and… I don’t know what to do!”
Okay, now Patton’s making it too easy.
“Oh hi Mark!”
That’s not actually the next line (but it should be). He and his dad leave those awful wimminz and have a little male bonding time, laced with empty platitudes:
They sat for a few minutes in silence. “Now you are smart and you’re a good guy and you’re tough, Andrew, even if you don’t feel very tough right now. It’s just like riding a bike, you fall off a hundred times but you get back up and keep trying, you don’t quit riding the bike.”
Will Andrew learn from his experiences and build healthier relationships in the future? Or will a skeevy con man convince him that there’s a set of secret tricks he can learn that will make him able to effortlessly manipulate women and everyone else around him? Find out next time! I’m sure you’re on the edge of your seat.