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A Crypto Book Review
© 2021 James LaFond
2016, 300 pages, memoir of a successful misery
I decline to pan books I read and cannot promote in some way. I literally had a hard time getting through this book.
To begin with, you know it’s a book of emasculation when the author identifies with his mother almost completely, his father non-existent, absent or vapidly cucksum.
This is pretty simple in my experience.
The man who was shaped by his relationship with his mother almost always lives in frustrated misery upon entry into actuality, whenever her stifling apron is finally blown clear by life. A man is usually better having had no mother and no father, than just having had a mother. There are a couple of exceptions. But the constant is that men who were cast into the world by a mother rather than being guided by a father suffer internally much more than those who have been prepared by the hand of a man.
Thinking of one such fellow, who avoided this fate after being subjected to maternity rather than balanced upbringing or paternity, is instructive. He sought out men among the neighbors and learned from them.
Men can emerge from under the apron of the suffocating matron, but it is a much harder journey and cripples most of them, with only a few exceptional personalities escaping the drear shadow of Mother.
In this unnamed book I was nauseated by accounts of Mother having sex with animals, reading pornographic magazines and leaving them lying around for her son to figure out…and her son has a predictably disgusting and interesting life, cashing in on degeneracy as an anti-culture undercurrent of late stage Modernity.
The man wrote a book in which he was honest about painful things, so I will not denigrate it. It was well-written and received the highest editorial and publishing attention. So the established publishing houses certainly value such material. For me it was an icky version of some of the more sorrowful lives I have been in contact with and a sad reminder that the maiming of the male soul is the centerpiece of our social construct.
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