Instead I'll admit, here, that I'm guilty of a form of sexism that may not even be recognized on the door-hold/career-hold-back scale . . . I'm a literature sexist. I can honestly tell you in the 34 (or so) years I've been literate and the probably 1,000 books I've read in those years I've read MAYBE thirty books by female authors. And I didn't even like all of them.
I know, I know . . . I should be (and AM) ashamed. Here are the books by women I can remember reading and enjoying off the top of my head (I'm sure there are more):
- Ann Packer's "The Dive From Clausen's Pier". It really was magical in its momenty.
- ANYTHING Alice Munro has ever written (short stories vs. full-length books) with emphasis on "Hateship, Friendship, Courtsthip, Loveship, Marriage". She's truly terrific.
- Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird". Because to not like it is disrespectful.
- "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen. Because, well, sexism.
- "The Magic Treehouse" (Vol. 1 - 35 and counting) by Mary Pope Osborne (but those are mainly for my daughter's sake)
- Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged". I'm still, years on, in the process of reading it and I disagree with a good chunk of it but it is well written stuff - no doubt about that.
- Virginia Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway". TOUGH reading (her sentence structure is insane) but she writes her ass off.
- "A Wrinkle In Time" By Madeline L'Engle. Going OLD SCHOOL on you.