Saturday, October 4, 2014

Debating The Complicated Gender Roles In "Gone Girl"

With Gone Girl now in theaters, BuzzFeed’s Senior Film Reporter Adam B. Vary and Deputy Entertainment Editor Jaimie Etkin have very different feelings about the movie, and what it’s trying to say about men and women. They agreed on one thing. Maybe two. Warning: MAJOR SPOILERS ahead!



20th Century Fox


Adam B. Vary: Here we are, Jaimie, two people who have seen — and have had quite different reactions to — Gone Girl. In our first meeting about the movie, in fact, one of us may have been moved to speak at quite an elevated volume about the other's opinion about the film. Which, for the record, I think is pretty exciting — it is all too rare anymore that a movie can evoke this kind of raw feeling! And I do think that is something director David Fincher and novelist-turned-screenwriter Gillian Flynn have engineered Gone Girl to do from the very first shot. (I should acknowledge here that Flynn and I both worked at Entertainment Weekly at the same time for a few years, and we were friendly with each other, though I haven't seen or spoken with her since her book tour for her second novel, Dark Places.)


When Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) looks down at the blonde head of his wife, Amy, (Rosamund Pike) resting on his chest and wonders in voice-over what it would be like to crack open her skull to discover what she is thinking, it is at once a horrifying and, I feel, searingly honest sentiment. I think most every person in a relationship has had similar (if perhaps tamer) thoughts pop into their head in the heat of the moment about their loved one. Where those thoughts lead Nick and Amy, however — and what their behavior reveals about how we feel about men and women and how they relate to each other, in private and in our culture at large — is how I think Fincher and Flynn did mean to cause such heated debate among, for example, colleagues who are otherwise good friends.


Jaimie Etkin: Well, seeing as Gone Girl has made me angrier than any movie I've seen in recent history, I guess they were successful in that regard. I think the most important dialogue the movie inspires is something you alluded to in saying it examines "how we feel about men and women and how they relate to each other." Nick's violent prose about wanting to unspool Amy's brains is perhaps the most violent thing he says in the whole film (though not the most violent thing he does), and it seems to be motivated by the fact that he cannot understand his wife in a Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus sort of way. That voice-over sets the tone to me that Nick's motivation is pure, even if his outward appearance (smashing glasses in front of detectives, smiling in front a poster of his missing wife for the media, etc.) says otherwise — it says that he is the one trying and Amy, with her bitterly cold glare, is the frosty bitch who won't let him in.


Besides, after that scene, the camera, which had shown said glare through Nick's eyes, moved away from his first-person perspective to an omniscient, non-voice-over one, which to me, showed the filmmaker's partiality to Nick's side of the story. We never get to see the story from his perspective again and instead, it appeared to me that what we see of Nick from there on out is the but-this-is-what-really-happened version of the story.



Rosamund Pike


Merrick Morton / 20th Century Fox




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The author and screenwriter discusses David Fincher’s film, its detractors, and adapting a seemingly unadaptable novel. Warning: Major spoilers for Gone Girl the movie and the novel contained within!



Gone Girl writer Gillian Flynn


Merrick Morton, Twentieth Century Fox/Regency Enterprises


Like Gone Girl's suspect male protagonist Nick Dunne, played with fitting frat-boy-gone-to-seed handsomeness on screen by Ben Affleck, Gillian Flynn used to be an entertainment journalist. Before she adapted her best-selling third novel into a hugely anticipated movie directed by David Fincher that's now in theaters, she was a features writer and television critic at Entertainment Weekly — so she knows her way around an interview, even a slightly awkward one with someone who loved the book but felt uneasy about its cinematic adaptation.


It's not often that an author gets to be so involved in translating his or her work to film, but Flynn wrote the screenplay for Gone Girl herself, boldly reshaping and slimming down her novel into a movie about how Amy Dunne (Rosamund Pike) disappears on the fifth anniversary of her wedding to Nick, and about all the dark secrets that emerge in the investigation that follows. It's certain to be one of the most talked-about movies of the year, and Flynn, who's already teamed up again with Fincher on a U.S. adaptation of the British cult series Utopia for HBO, was happy to talk about it with BuzzFeed News, the day after Gone Girl's world premiere at the New York Film Festival.


There was talk early on that the ending of Gone Girl would be changed for the film, but what's there is very close to what's in the book. Was there ever actually any discussion of altering the ending?


Gillian Flynn: No. No, it came from a quote that got taken out of context of what David had said, then the aggregation sites picked it up and pretty soon it was being attributed to me, mashed together with another quote I'd said somewhere else. David and I had always been in a complete mind-set that that was how the ending was supposed to be. We liked it that way and it was the right one.


What was your process in fitting the novel into something feature-length? Did you look at it more as "what can I trim away" or "what do I need to keep"?


GF: More "what am I going to keep." That was the first thing I looked at — what absolutely needs to be here, plot-wise. You think you can get rid of one scene, and you realize down the road that now this is going to collapse because we haven't put that brick in there.


It was partly doing that, but also with a real mind to not turning it into a complete procedural. The plot could have just taken over. To me it was so important to have those Nick and Amy flashbacks, to see them all the way through the different stages of their marriage so that you're invested in them.


Obviously some scenes just feel iconic — like the sugar kiss. What was your approach in terms of what to keep from early in their marriage in New York?


GF: I knew I wanted to see them meet. And the way David has filmed it is the weirdest, most diabolical meet-cute ever. I love the cognitive dissonance of that scene, this cute, flirty banter — but the way they play it is not bouncy. It's not the way you're used to seeing a romantic comedy. Something's off.


I like the scene when Nick's been laid off. I feel like that's an important turning point. Some scenes had to be combined together. I had to create other scenes to do the work of what had been three or four diary chapters — otherwise it would have been the whole movie. I could have just stayed in there.



Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike in Gone Girl


Merrick Morton, Twentieth Century Fox/Regency Enterprises


The book is defined by these dueling narratives of Nick's account in the present day and Amy's diary, which in the movie Pike narrates. Was there ever a consideration of something like, I don't know, voice-over for Nick?


GF: Yeah, I know you didn't like that.


I missed his voice.


GF: I didn't ever consider voice-over for Nick, because I felt like it could very easily turn into a book on tape. I beefed up [Nick's twin sister, played by Carrie Coon] Go's role a little bit, to give her some of those moments with him. But I also really wanted him to take on the role of us projecting our emotions onto him. I wanted him to feel more of a cipher, that Amy was hypnotically working her magic.


To me, he still felt like an unreliable narrator — you're still not quite sure why he's doing the things that he's doing, why he's checking the phone, why his emotions seem so off-kilter. Anyone who can joke with his sister that (laughs), "Anyone who took her will probably bring her back," something is a little bit off. But mainly I liked Amy having that control of the voice-over — that sense of planting that seed, that she was in our heads from the very beginning. So when you get to the reveal, you realize that she's been this presence who's been toying with you the whole time, and that she's really in control of this overarching narrative. And it does make her a little more villainous than in the book. It gives her a bit more power.


She felt more like a femme fatale to me in the movie.


GF: I think she's empathetic, because you see the flashbacks with her parents and any time you know where someone's come from, you tend to have more empathy for them. To me, "femme fatale" implies a sort of unknowability, and I think she's known. She's telling you what's going on. To me, they felt like equal players.


I felt like she's in control, and I wanted that sense that you're going to always have to be on your toes when Amy's around, even the audience. Because she's tricked you, because she's been in your head and been playing with you, the audience member, that you have a feeling for Nick in a way.


The "Cool Girl" section in the book has really resonated with people and taken on a life of its own, and a version of it is part of a pivotal moment in the movie as well. Did you expect that kind of response when you wrote it?


GF: It's funny — that "Cool Girl" speech started just as a writing exercise. I was trying to figure out who Amy was, and at the time when I was writing it, she didn't write quizzes; she was more a female issues writer for a women's magazine. I wrote that all in one day in this fugue state, just sweating and angry, it all poured out of me. Normally, as a rule, I don't try to wedge my writing exercise stuff into a book, because it's unhealthy to do that. But that one I just liked so much — I put it in, took it back out, put it back in, and finally was like, fuck it, it's too good, I'm going to put it in there.


But I had no idea... it really does seem to resonate with people. The cool thing about working with David, I think a lot of directors would have seen three pages of a script of pure voice-over and been like "absolutely not." But he was like, great, we got it, that's awesome. He totally was into it, and making that that turning point where you're first really meeting Amy.




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Friday, October 3, 2014

Nicholas Sparks Accused Of Discrimination At His North Carolina School

A former headmaster of Epiphany School of Global Studies said in a lawsuit that Sparks has “vulgar and discriminatory views” about people who are black, LGBT or not Christian.



Cindy Ord / Getty Images


The former headmaster of Nicholas Sparks' private K-12 school is accusing the bestselling author of discrimination in a federal lawsuit filed Thursday.


Saul Hillel Benjamin became the headmaster and CEO at Epiphany School of Global Studies in 2013, which Sparks founded in 2006. The nondenominational school's website heralds its commitment to Christian traditions and the principle to "Love God and Your Neighbor as Yourself," with a "global focus."


In a federal lawsuit filed Thursday, however, Benjamin said that Sparks and the school's board of trustees actually harassed and bullied anyone who attempted to bring in diversity and inclusiveness.


"Sparks has routinely attributed the absence of any African-American students at the School to the fact that 'black students are too poor and can't do the academic work,'" the lawsuit said.


Sparks' attorney said he denies all allegations of the complaint.


"We deny these allegations as presented in the complaint. We will vigorously defend this matter and look forward to pursuing any available remedies," Theresa Sprain said.


The suit also contends that Sparks and school board members prohibited students from discussing their sexual identities or orientation and discouraged school staff from investigating bullying of gay students.


Benjamin also was confronted by Sparks about attending an event that included a speaker from the local National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) chapter.


"According to Defendant Sparks, Mr. Benjamin had brought 'disrepute to Epiphany' by attending the event and publicly associating with African-Americans," the suit said.


Benjamin, who is Jewish by background and is a Quaker, also said that his personal faith was questioned by school parents who doubted his ability to hire a "true Christian" chaplain for the school. A school board member told him to "back away from issues of diversity because people had suspicions about his religious beliefs," the suit said.


Scott Schwimer, the attorney who represents Sparks in entertainment matters, said he found the allegations absurd.


"As a gay, Jewish man who has represented Nick for almost 20 years I find these allegations completely ludicrous and offensive," Schwimer said.


In the suit, Benjamin added that he was "forced" to defend his personal religious beliefs at a forum in front of hundreds of students, parents, and staff.


Two days later, Benjamin was called into a meeting with Sparks and fired, in spite of a multiyear contract, the suit said.


"From the beginning of the meeting, Defendant Sparks immediately berated Mr. Benjamin and acted in a loud, ranting, and physically intimidating manner," the suit said.


Benjamin was not allowed to leave the room or speak with a lawyer until he signed a letter of resignation, the suit said.


Later, Sparks and others told Benjamin's wife, an education recruiter, and others in the community that he was no longer employed because he had Alzheimer's disease or a mental illness, the suit said. The claim was false, the suit said.


"As a result, Mr. Benjamin has incurred grave reputational damage and has been unable to secure further employment in the area," the suit said.


Lawyers for Sparks and the school have not responded to Benjamin's claims.


The Problem With "Gone Girl" Is That There's No "Cool Girl"

David Fincher’s film, based on Gillian Flynn’s novel, doesn’t so much bring the “Cool Girl” polemic to the masses as dilute its scathing argument. Warning: This post contains MAJOR SPOILERS if you have not read or seen Gone Girl .



Rosamund Pike as Amy Dunne and Ben Affleck as Nick Dunne in Gone Girl


Merrick Morton / Twentieth Century Fox and Regency Enterprises


I spent the first hour of David Fincher's Gone Girl watching Rosamund Pike's performance as Amy Dunne very, very closely. I've admired Pike's work ever since her turn as the amiable eldest Bennet sister in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice. But I also knew that she could play icy: Just looking at her in the mostly forgotten 2007 movie Fracture, playing alongside The Gos and Anthony Hopkins, you can see that this doe-eyed girl was capable of menace. Not like Helena Bonham Carter-style menace, but Ice Queen, passive-aggressive, manipulative-bitch-with-a-perfect-manicure-style menace.


That's the sort of menace you need to pull off the Amy in the second half of the movie. The Amy who's not evil so much as cunning and fiercely unsentimental. The Amy who speaks truth to the lies of performance set up in Part 1 — the performance of the "Cool Girl."


Gillian Flynn's novel Gone Girl became a publishing phenomenon for its deft plotting, riptide of a narrative, and complex net of twists. But lots of books have good, addictive mysteries at their core. What's set Gone Girl apart, then, is the incredibly culturally resonate trope of the "Cool Girl." When the narrative switches to Amy's perspective in Part 2, the character offers a trenchant commentary on the type of femininity she had been performing — and with which her husband, Nick, had fallen in love — in the first half of the book:



Men always say that as the defining compliment, don't they? She's a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she's hosting the world's biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don't mind, I'm the Cool Girl.


Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they're fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men — friends, coworkers, strangers — giddy over these awful pretender women, and I'd want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who'd like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I'd want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn't really love chili dogs that much — no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They're not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they're pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you're not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn't want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version — maybe he's a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he's a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn't ever complain.



I quote the passage at length because it's just so incredibly on point — and reflective of a certain mode of femininity that our current cultural moment valorizes and celebrates. (See especially: the star image of reigning starlet Jennifer Lawrence). And Flynn, who also adapted the screenplay, recognized its importance, so much so that it's reproduced, almost verbatim, in voiceover as the "Gone" Amy drives toward her new life. As the voiceover points to the various iterations of the Cool Girl — the one that matches the vegetarian, or the hipster artist — the camera cuts to other cars on the road, filled with Cool Girls matching that description.


I'd been waiting to see how Flynn and Fincher handled the evocation of the Cool Girl, and the scene— the one time in the film that the camera focuses on someone outside of the narrative — definitely felt like a disruptive turning point, and not just because Amy's voice is inflected with the menace and misogyny that would flower for the remaining 90 minutes of the film. It feels disruptive because the Cool Girl that Amy is describing — and that the character Amy portrays so convincingly in the first half of the book — doesn't match the script's characterization of her. Put differently, the First-Half Film Amy isn't, well, cool.



Affleck and Pike in Gone Girl


Merrick Morton / Twentieth Century Fox and Regency Enterprises


She's smart, of course, and beautiful and maybe even likable, but the only time you see a hint of the Cool Girl charisma is during her and Nick's "meet-cute" at a friend's party. There, she comes off as a match to Nick's quick-talking seduction; a tit to his tat, a well-timed raised eyebrow to his well-honed yet seemingly unpracticed pickup line. Her hair is up in a thoughtless ponytail, tendrils haphazardly hanging down in that sexy way that seems totally without artifice. It's the first time we meet Amy, and it sets the tone for the Cool Girl to come.


Only that Amy goes away, replaced by an Amy that's almost annoyingly passive-aggressive (the tone as she "narrates" Amazing Amy at the wedding party) or blandly supportive (her we'll-make-it-through-this recession speech). That's not Cool; that's just an amalgam of various female characters from the last 10 years of bad rom-coms and harping wives in Judd Apatow movies.


Amy needs to be Cool. She needs to be that unbelievable mix of charisma and chill, and to give zero fucks and be all the hotter for it. It's Kate (Olivia Wilde) in Drinking Buddies meets Jamie (Mila Kunis) in Friends With Benefits to the every-public-appearance-of-Jennifer Lawrence power. And while First-Half Amy might have that body and that beauty, she doesn't have that ineffable something, that irresistible gravity. That indelible sense of Cool Girl.


Now, I get that the Cool Girl is a performance. She's a projection of the impossible contradiction of contemporary femininity, which Flynn, ventriloquizing through Amy, describes with such skill in the second half of the book. But in order for us to see Amy's skill and insight — the clear-eyed way that she saw what was expected of her and performed it, immaculately — she has to actually be Cool. She can't just be beautiful, or fairly likable. She has to be transcendent — and then, when the twist turns, and she becomes her "real" self, it illuminates the Cool Girl not as a natural state, but a performance calculated to attract, please, and sate a man's desires.


Without that contrast — and, by extension, the understanding that Amy was motivated by her frustration with the impossible expectations of "perfect" femininity — Amy comes off as a one-dimensional sociopath. The woman with the box cutter and the bloody body of a man who loved her. A caricature. A piece of high camp. A "crazy fucking bitch." And so, the sublimated ideological critique of the book disappears, replaced by the pat narrative logic of the film noir, with a fumbling, rather stupid, yet ultimately victimized male at its core.


Don't get me wrong: Amy is a femme fatale. But the best noirs always showed that the women who provided their narrative combustion weren't born evil; society, and the way it forced women to maneuver within it, made them that way.


The Amy of Fincher's Gone Girl isn't Cool, or complicated, or sympathetic. She's the "crazy fucking bitch" that Nick calls her, yet another example for the eternal argument for women's unhingeability and hysteria.


And the film's avoidance of an engaged interrogation of Cool Girl ideal is what makes it just as hollow, dismissible, and superficial as the version of Amy that inhabits it. It's the major failing of the movie — and what downgrades a transgressive meditation on the politics of gender performance into a run-of-the-mill, if entertaining, thriller.




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Lena Dunham Will Promote EMILY's List Candidates On Her Book Tour

The “Girls” star wanted to use the timing of her book tour to help with Democratic get-out-the-vote efforts.



Courtesy of EMILY's List


WASHINGTON — "Girls" star Lena Dunham will be using her book tour in part to promote candidates endorsed by EMILY's List, BuzzFeed News has learned.


EMILY's List — a group that works for female Democratic candidates supportive of abortion rights — has partnered with Dunham for the tour of her book, Not that Kind of Girl.


Dunham had reached out to EMILY's List prior to her book tour, aides familiar with the conversations said, and wanted to use the tour to help the group with get-out-the-vote efforts for Democrats in the midterms. The group has provided her with the number of women voters who drop-off in a midterm elections specific to whichever area she is on the tour, and she'll use them the numbers when encouraging the audience to vote in November. They also gave her names and details of candidates to talk about on the tour.


She'll also promote the group on her Instagram and Twitter accounts.


According to New York Magazine Dunham told a New York audience that she viewed both writing and voting as "a way to get empowered."


"So let's vote and write our way to a better future," she said.


In 2012, Dunham cut an ad for the Obama campaign comparing the first time voting to losing one's virginity.


23 Incredible Quotes From Your Favorite Books That Hit The Big Screen

According to Amazon Kindle, these are the most highlighted passages from your favorite books turned movies.


The Fault in Our Stars


The Fault in Our Stars


20th Century Fox / Via amazon.com


Divergent


Divergent


Lionsgate / Via amazon.com


Insurgent


Insurgent


Lionsgate / Via amazon.com


Allegiant


Allegiant


Lionsgate / Via amazon.com




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Which “Harry Potter” Witch Should You Dress Up As For Halloween?

Which witch are you?



Warner Bros.


Thursday, October 2, 2014

Why We Need To Fight Online Trolls, Not Just Ignore Them

People say to “just ignore” men like Ed Champion who attack women like me on the internet. Why that’s not OK.



Jenny Chang / BuzzFeed


"Develop a thicker skin." It's a phrase I've heard a lot over the years (as recently as a few days ago), and for a long time I took it to heart and hoped I would develop the kind of calluses that these people were talking about. I'm a woman who's had an internet presence for a little more than a decade now. Which means that for the last 10 years I've been told that I'm a stupid cunt and that I should do the world a favor and kill myself fairly often, mostly by anonymous strangers. If you're shocked, you're likely not a woman. Or maybe you're not online much, or you've never had a controversial opinion in your life; maybe your "corgis eating ice cream cones" Pinterest board is the extent of your ventures into social media, and if so, god bless. Personally, I've come to expect online attacks and threats; I've dealt with them for so long that they hardly register. I accept them in the same way that I've come to accept that smelling piss and garbage is an inescapable part of living in New York, which I also do.


But as it keeps happening, I start to wonder whether the problem is really mine.


This summer, the week that my first novel, Friendship, was being published, a longtime "lit blogger" named Ed Champion published an 11,000-word attack that crossed every kind of line, including imagery of sexualized violence, several photographs of me, and a reference to my "slimy passage."


I was about to embark on a book tour, and concerned friends and coworkers in publishing quickly informed me that Champion had a reputation for showing up at authors' events and creating disturbances. I tweeted about how upset I was, but this just seemed to fan the flames, and once I realized what was happening, I stopped. At a time when I'd had most cause to hope that the conversation about me might finally shift to my writing itself, it was instead, once again, about my internet presence, me as "lightning rod" for criticism and the question of whether or not I deserved or even courted that kind of attention. Being silent didn't make me feel better, though; I lasted about a day off Twitter, then started participating in the conversation again.


Many people, it turned out, had read those 11,000 words and didn't understand what the fuss was. This was "just a book review." A very bad review, but still. I should learn to take criticism more gracefully. I should develop a thicker skin.



Or better yet: just ignore it! (As Salon senior writer Laura Miller advised the other day.) This is, of course, what you're supposed to do with actual book reviews. Authors are supposed to say "Oh, I don't read reviews" in the same tone of voice that people use to describe having given up TV or refined carbohydrates. But I always read reviews; I can't help it, and I don't feel guilty about it, either. I've never seen writing as something that takes place in a hermetic aerie far above the world; I like to have a conversation about my own writing and other people's, and most of that conversation takes place online. I'm interested in general in how people write about books, and of course I'm even more interested when those books are mine.


And one thing I've noticed, reading reviews not just of my own books but of the books I sell via Emily Books, is that a lot of female authors are subject to the same treatment I've gotten. These authors are reviewed personally alongside their books, in a way that rarely happens to men. The author Jennifer Weiner tweeted several examples the other day, including "reviews" of herself, Fifty Shades of Grey author E.L. James, and one of my own book: In the New York Times, lead book critic Michiko Kakutani took three paragraphs even to get around to mentioning my book, and on the way there, she quoted — somewhat extensively! — from anonymous comments left on a 2010 essay that I wrote. In a review of, supposedly, my novel.


In a climate where no one — no editor, no reader, no publicist — steps in and says to the lead book critic of the New York Times, "Wait a minute, isn't that enormously and obviously fucked up?" it's not surprising that people can't tell the difference between Champion's unhinged ramblings and a "book review." I'm offended on my own behalf, of course. (Duh!) But I'm also worried about girls and women reading this kind of thing and mistaking it for a fixed condition of a literary culture they're trying to find a place in.


Even if Champion's rant had been a "book review," which it wasn't, it's not my job to ignore it. I'd go so far as to say that the people who tell women to "just ignore" gendered criticism, bullying, and harassment — which I'm fine with lumping together, because they're all components of a system that works together to repress women's work — are asking women to collaborate in their own silencing. I'm not going to ignore it; I'm not even going to try. If "feeding the trolls" provokes or encourages them in the short term, I don't really give a fuck. In the long term, with sustained resistance, it's the only way to create the impression that something has to change. If there's anything the last 10 years have taught me, it's that telling the truth isn't always fun, but it's the only way to change anything.




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Tao Lin Responds To Abuse Allegations On Facebook

Last week, E.R. Kennedy, also known as Ellen Kennedy, took to Twitter to accuse the author Tao Lin of plagiarism and said that he was abusive when Kennedy dated him in 2005, when she was 16. Lin responded to the allegations in emails and on Facebook.



Flickr: taolin / Via en.wikipedia.org


In emails to BuzzFeed news and a Facebook post that appears to have since been deleted, the author Tao Lin responded to accusations that he committed statutory rape when he was in a relationship with a 16-year-old in 2005.


E.R. Kennedy, also known as Ellen Kennedy, posted a 20-tweet-long account of their relationship when Kennedy was 16 and Lin was 22.


In the tweets, Kennedy claims that Lin was physically and emotionally abusive. Kennedy used the hashtag #TaoLinIsARapist. Kennedy also says Lin plagiarized her work.


"Tao Lin literally copied and pasted my emails into his 'novel'. He took credit for my words, for my painful memories, for my story," Kennedy tweeted.


The tweets were collected and posted on Tumblr, where they went viral.


In an email exchange with BuzzFeed News on Wednesday, Lin acknowledged a relationship with Kennedy but said it wasn't statutory rape, citing Pennsylvania's age of consent.


"In the relationship, in 2006, I was, I know, a shitty person (but I only had consensual sex with someone who, in PA, was not a minor), which I documented in the novel Richard Yates," Lin said in an email.


Lin said that Kennedy read the novel Richard Yates — which Lin said details a fictionalized version of their relationship — and Kennedy approved of it being published.


"I, and my publisher, had made sure she was okay with it, and that it was fictionalized sufficiently," Lin said.


Users began questioning Lin about the allegations in the comments of a post on his Facebook and he responded with a statement in a post set to friends-only privacy settings:



Yes, I had consensual sex with Ellen in her parents' house in Pennsylvania in her parents' bed, as she tweeted, when I was 22 and she was 16. No, that is not statutory rape, let alone rape. So, no, I did not rape and steal from her. We were in a relationship that had problems. About using her emails for my book: I talked to her about it during and after the writing of "Richard Yates" (book she is referencing) from 2006-2008 and she read it something like a year before it was released in 2010. I made sure (and my publisher made sure I made sure) she was okay with what I was writing about, and I said I wouldn't write anything she didn't want me to write about. (She has also written about our experiences, and I have often felt very close to her in our views on life/fiction.) We continued communicating regularly from the time I met her in 2006 to 2014, though our romantic relationship (which I think I valued more than anything else at the time) ended sometime in 2007. I published her poetry book, we co-wrote things together, talked as friends in emails. A few months ago Muumuu House funded her trip to a poetry reading in Boston, and before that we emailed about the eBook edition of her book, for examples of things we email about. Sometimes she has "lashed out" against me, then afterwards apologized saying she didn't remember lashing out. I understand this behavior from someone who has experienced my shitty (but not, in terms of Ellen, illegal—shoplifting batteries is illegal, I know) behavior as a shitty person in a relationship. I try to be open about my negatives as a person, and examined these negatives for example in "Richard Yates" and in my other writing. Because Ellen (now, but not in the past) seems very affected by the fact that I wrote about our experience (and to be in need financially, and to suspect I am profiting off her, based on her tweets), I offered her (in an email today) all the royalties to RY, or to never mention it and ask Melville House to stop printing/selling it if that's possible at all, saying I care more about her, a person, than a book. I hoped not to involve everyone reading this in this, and to not reveal all this stuff to strangers in this context (partly because I think it's unproductive for everyone involved and the world generally), but since you asked, and reporters have emailed me about it, and it seems like it's going to be written about and create a massive shitstorm forever linking me with the term "rapist" probably in the minds of most people who skim any articles about this or have seen or heard about that Tumblr post, I felt it was appropriate to type this paragraph here.



Kennedy did not immediately respond to requests for comment. "I just needed to get some things of my chest leave the accusations to me this will be solved in due time," Kennedy tweeted on Thursday.


Melville House, the publisher of Richard Yates, did not immediately respond to requests for comment on the allegations that Lin used Kennedy's writing without permission.


Believe in yourself

Believe in yourself. Luck is nothing but Labour Under Correct Knowledge.