Day 272: Brats

Hello wild ones! As you know I have been reading up a storm lately and after rolling my eyes at the fit the female character in the current novel I am reading was throwing I thought about what I wanted to say in today’s post.

I’m not a fan of the females are sometimes portrayed in literature. Last week I read a historical romance novel about a female Laird, which if you don’t know if just a leader of a clan back in the days of the highlanders, that may not be entirely accurate, I think maybe they still have Lairds in Scotland. Never the less, this is a woman in a high place of power and yet the novel reduced her to nothing more than a simpering idiot.

Don’t beat me over the head with sentences announcing the woman’s bravery, strength, and intelligence just to reduce her to a childish fool who cares more for playing with children than worrying about the fate of her people. In this particular novel, the woman (called “little warrior” by her father many times) is named Laird when her father is killed in battle. Instead of sticking around to help her people fight, which we are told many times she was quiet capable of doing, she runs for help from other clans. Which, hey makes complete sense, you know you need a larger army, so you go out to find one. What I did not understand was why in the world this “head strong, intelligent, little warrior” would hang around said clan long after it was clear he could not help her immediately.

Instead of just saying, “Cool, I get that you don’t have the people to help me now. So I’m gonna hop on over to the next clan and make some inquires. Thanks for your help.” she stays for MONTHS. Not days. Not weeks. Months. After he makes it clear that because he has already sent soldiers to another clan he could not spare any to help her reclaim her home from her cousin. She instead spends her time with the Laird’s young son, whom she rescues from said cousin, and then becomes the Laird’s mistress. Seriously, I get drooling over a hot, muscular man, who knows his way around the bedroom, I really do, but don’t you think your time would be better spent coming up with a plan to fight your cousin?  She takes the kid fishing for fucks sake, while her people are being murdered, women are being raped, and her home is being torn apart, she is fishing with the Laird’s son. And the only indication that we have that she even cares one iota about the fate of her people are the few pretty speeches she makes about the atrocities being committed against them, but she makes no move to help.

Explain to me how that sounds like a good leader. What I think makes me more angry is the prospect of reading about a female Laird kicking some ass instead of needing to be saved was thrilling, but instead of her being a warrior princess like my girl Xena, she was a simpering fool who fainted one more than one occasion. Xena never fucking fainted. Who the hell faints? And she freaking cries at the drop of a hat about every little thing.

I know that is like the pot calling the kettle black, but dammit all to hell I know to keep my freaking tears to myself. I would just about rather die than let a man see me cry. If I was a freaking Lady Laird not a damn person would even know I had tear ducts.

They make us out to be creatures compelled by our emotions and nothing more. If I let my emotions control everything in my life I would be a homeless, jobless, vagrant. In the current novel I had to set down the female is acting like a spoiled child every 5 seconds. This is not the first novel I have read recently where the female lead acts more like a child than a lady.

Maybe I am just so severe on my own sex. I find myself infuriated with these women on occasion, sometimes for the pure and simple fact that they let their men get away with all sorts of shit. Every single freaking time I read about a man sleeping with someone other than his wife, or even attempting to it just pisses me off that the woman would be okay with that. I swear if I ever walked in on my significant other having his way with a serving wench I would never allow that bastard to touch me again. You can bet your ass I would also never allow a man to hit me for no freaking reason.

I just had a conversation about this very topic at dinner weekend before last because I had just read two different books where the women were treated so terribly, but still fell in love with the men dolling out the punishment. It made me so angry that we had a very spirited talk about the novels and my friends were making fun of me for getting so worked up over a dang book.

I would hope that my female characters are never viewed as a detriment to our sex. Now, I am going to go back to the fit the lady was throwing and hope this terrible brat somehow redeems herself and soon. NIGHT!

Until tomorrow, stay wonderfully wild!



2 thoughts on “Day 272: Brats

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