I admire many of the current and former staffers at the Observer. I have written here in some capacity for the past four years, and I have had a gratifying time doing so. You can opt out anytime. But lately, I find I do not like the articles the Observer is putting into the world. To paraphrase Nora Ephron, management seems to realize that it would be good to produce articles that people want to read but feels no obligation to ensure that those articles are any good.
What a gross article. I could marvel at his ability to turn a single event into many pieces for various publications. I could surely question his disconnected, incoherent writing style.
When he exclaims in a fury over the fact that there are thousands of women bloggers who think they are more qualified to write for Elle than he—hell, I can think of thousands of dental hygienists more qualified to write for Elle than Jacques Hyzagi. Hyzagi meant men and women. However, given that the publications Mr. For bonus measure, Mr. Hyzagi is very eager to reveal that he himself fucks models. Female writers sadly get used to being described that way.
The Guardian just did a really interesting assessment of its own commenter culture and found that of the writers most abused in the comment section, eight out of 10 are women. The two male writers were black.
Female writers have probably long suspected this. The only way to cope is to remind yourself that those commenters represent a minority of angry, powerless people. If you wanted to make them happy, as a woman you would have to devote yourself full time to dieting and quietly bearing their children, which sounds extremely time-consuming. Most people reach an age at which their actions should provoke a response other than outraged wonder—and most publications do, as well.
