With her trademark tone of more in sorrow than in anger, Wolf tells the story of a party her friend Alan threw her, in celebration of Vagina finding a publisher. As a joke, Alan said he was going to make vagina-shaped pasta, which he did. When, in front of guests, he referred to it as “cuntini”, Wolf was so horrified, so traumatised by his language, that, she writes, she suffered six months of writer’s block.
One understands that “lighten up, love” is the stock misogynist response to women protesting male aggression. But this seems an extraordinary reaction to a …
“Party?” says Wolf.
“I mean. You know. I’m not sure what your question is?”
It’s hard to understand how she can have had such a reaction to a bit of a shit joke, but not that bad a joke.
“Well, that’s a good question.”
She looks very much as if she does not consider this a good question.