Caffeinated Politics

I was reading a book in the parking area at the Middleton Post Office this afternoon as James ran some boxes in for mailing. I was 300 pages into Ted Bell’s second Alex Hawke book, Assassin, and abruptly closed it and threw it in the back seat. I had come close to calling it a day with the book on Monday, after male dress shoes worn at a wedding were described as “sissy’ and breaking news was reported to the characters by Fox News. While the international plot of high drama is convincing and engaging, every page oozes with toxic hyper-masculinity. There comes a time when a book being drenched in chest‑thumping bravado needs to be ended. Even though about 200 pages remain to be read. Ted Bell will be found at a local lending library in our neighborhood.

As the book was flung over my shoulder and I waited for James to get packages sent to Maine, I thought about a quote from C.S. Lewis that I could cobble together from memory. I found it online when back at my desk

“The best safeguard against bad literature is a full experience of good…” 

Before I get too far into this column, I want to make it clear that Bell is an effective writer. His plots are masterful. After the first Hawke book, however, I felt I could not read another. But the second one had been bought and was on my shelves. My experience with Assassin leaves me with a question for the author. Is this really all we’re allowed to imagine masculinity to be? This book is another example of what I know is an endless parade of similar machismo books that pass for ‘good reading’.

While I read a lot of history and biography, I also have at least one fiction book nearby. While I read about the past with credible and well-established writers and historians, I also desire my fiction to be driven by strong narratives, powerful dialogue, and plots that could be lifted from the front page of a newspaper. As such, you will find me sending up accolades for Daniel Silva, as an example. He has his main male character as a meticulous art restorer. While there is violence and international chaos (to say the least) in his works, his men are not burdened with emotional constipation.

As I grow as a reader, I find less ability to pretend the narrow, brittle version of manhood of hyper masculinity is acceptable. It is not.

And then there’s the way emotional connections, softness, and domesticity are treated as if that is a punishment. I speak not only about Bell books, but the whole genre of these types of reads. These books often use ‘femininity’ in men as a foil, something to be mocked or overcome. Not knowing how to throw a rope to a boat about to dock, or driving a speedboat in a fashion that doesn’t suit a professional soldier. The message these books wish to have us believe is that to be a “real man,” you must reject anything coded as feminine. You need to walk, talk, and think hyper-masculine 24/7. I can tell you 300 pages later, it’s exhausting to read.

I like authors who can shape a story that doesn’t need to romanticize masculinity, nor have us sense that every page is filled with stale cigar smoke and a whiskey glass. The male experience should be relational, compassionate, and curious. It can be shockingly human.

I’m tired of reading books that mistake emotional repression for strength. I’m tired of narratives that cling to outdated gender scripts. As such, Ted Bell’s Alex Hawke book series is out of this reader’s hands.

I never had this problem with John le Carré.