Author Timothy Morton and I were in perfect alignment in the opening chapter as he spoke of being 13, seeing Close Encounters and Star Wars and making up spacecraft in his head for his own amusement. Sadly, this nerdy bonhomie didn’t last long as I soon encountered the sentence “This is a feminist book about spacecraft and hyperspace”.
Oh, dear.
I soldiered on for a bit but when he referred to the Millennium Falcon (the ostensible subject of the book) as “a vulva rushing through the vulva-like realm of hyperspace” I had to call it a day. The points he makes are probably quite astute to someone who can work out what he’s going on about. There is a lot of rambling about how good Star Wars is, which I wouldn’t normally mind reading, but his analyses and conclusions are quite barmy. The kindest description I can give this book is pseudo-intellectual, word salad-y claptrap. This book is not about whizz-bang spacecraft and sci-fi - it is about everything really being a vulva.
Who signed off on this??
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