It’s too hot today, even by the coast. I haven’t been sleeping well because of it. I can’t stand the heat when I sleep. The cats are exhausted from the heat and so am I. Waking up tired and cranky. They’ve been sleeping most of the day, but I’ve been writing copy while frustrated and thirsty. I might need air conditioning.
We’ve barely had a winter. It’s either been hot as fuck, or a week of rain here or there. I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s like summer right now, except I don’t want to put on a bikini because I feel gross. Perimenopausal. I’ve made an appointment to see a local hormonal expert my friends recommended in hopes of not feeling like an alien in my own body and perhaps get rid of this belly fat. Please, God.
I meant to write about Wuthering Heights a month ago, but didn’t have time. Time is fleeting once again. I started a new copywriting gig with the agency I used to work for, and find myself scrambling to get everything done. What are you going to do? Bills need to be paid.
It does seem a bit stupid to write about Wuthering Heights at this point. The timing is all wrong and it feels like no one is talking about it anymore, but whatever. I feel compelled. I was going to do a whole deep dive about the onslaught of Gen Z BookTok Karens outraged about the movie, but it sounded so whiny and preachy itself. I was also going to dive into that even people who I follow for their bitchy, more humorous heretical takes on political correctness seemed to dramatically, and unironically, think it was the worst movie ever(!) because in their minds, it was un-intellectual and conformed to the tedious impulses of today’s feminist and BookTok dumbed-down erotica crowd.
Oh my.
I’m beginning to wonder. Is it possible to read a book or watch a film in the 2020s without turning into some political or cultural lecture?
Anyway, I liked the movie. Actually, I loved it. I saw it twice. I know. The horror.
The first time was with a group of girls from my church. We went to dinner beforehand and had margaritas and walked to the theater slightly buzzed, and giggled at the somewhat jarring hanging/erection scene at the beginning of the film. Then proceeded to giggle through much of the rest of the movie, cheered for a shirtless Jacob Elordi, and then some of us cried at the end. I didn’t, although I was certainly on the verge.
The second time I went by myself to really take it in. To sit among strangers and cry. This time I noticed hints of the tragic ending that added a second layer of doom and heartbreak—and somehow related it back to my state of yearning and singledom, of course. This viewing I let loose and bawled my eyes out. Felt like I had been hit by a train the next day from my “crying hangover” (yes, this is a real thing). FYI, there were just as many TikToks of women and girls posting their before and afters of seeing Wuthering Heights. Giddily going in, and tearful on the way out. As women, we live for this shit.
Meanwhile I was growing annoyed (and slightly fascinated) by the army of social media intellectuals horrified by casting choices, stylistic choices—and of course the toxic consensual BDSM type of relationship between Heathcliff and Isabella, instead of the apparently even more fucked up relationship in the book that was not consensual, and therefore the movie was promoting toxic male behavior. Yawn.
Once the Wuthering Heights witch hunt died down, there was another BookTok scandal apparently about author Sarah J. Maas and her book, ACOTAR (A Court of Thorns and Roses), neither of which I had ever heard of, but apparently she did something… wrote something she wasn’t allowed to write—in a fantasy book. What, I honestly don’t know. And I don’t really care so I didn’t look into it.
I made the mistake of leaving a fleeting comment, like a typical Gen Xer, “Just write what you want.” Oh boy. That is not what you do in 2026. You do not write what you want. How offensive and careless of me, and the BookTok Karens were sure to tell me. “Are you okay?” one commented to me after I said that I don’t care about being offended, and that sometimes fiction and art should be provocative and offensive. Little does she know that I’m offended by things every day and just go about my life like a normal person.
I can only imagine what their reaction would be to the toxic relationships in Synth Noir, not to mention my upcoming novel, Van Life. An explicit story from beginning to end filled with sex, drugs, toxicity, and violence. And humor. It might need a trigger warning.
The irony is that all of these intellectual digital Karens are really just a modern version of the SNL Church Lady with their grandstanding TikTok posts. Just replace “Satan!” with any current transgression that gets them riled up and shaking their fist, hell-bent on canceling anything that doesn’t fit into their 2020s worldview.
A digital book burning if you will.
It’s annoying. And weird. But perhaps instead of getting worried that young people, and society in general, are losing any sense of nuance and taking things much too literally (even made-up characters that don’t exist in real life), this too I should let go of and just go about my day.
Books 1 & 2 available on Amazon. Enjoy…
I haven't seen the new Wuthering Heights (although I'm sure I will eventually), but I completely agree that a writer should write what they want, and not think of an audience or whom they may offend. People are far too sensitive these days.