Advice Column Break: Daddy’s Book Review, And Tragic Obsession With Corinne Maier

29 Jan

In order to beat the Valentine’s Day Love Rush, I’ve decided to start Love Week early. You may now rejoice, readers. So let’s kick this off with something special and unique for this Absentee Daddy: a book review.

Now, I told myself I’d never do a book review on my blog, because reading is annoying, and the only thing worse than reading books is reading other people writing about what they’ve read. So for all you children out there who have luckily chanced upon this blog, don’t listen to what your parents say about reading: all you really need is The Daily Show, The History Channel, a documentary film here and there, and a few “Dawkins/Hitchens Vs. Some Circularly-Reasoning Thelogian Guy” debates on YouTube to keep up the appearance of learnedness these days, really.

I suppose I have accidentally had a few books flop open at my feet in the past due to someone else having dropped them, and out of all those instances, Henry Miller really caught my eye. So basically, I’ve only ever read Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer— and just a few paragraphs at that– so take from that what you will. It seemed to be quite a piece of literature, from what I could gather before I had to hand it back to the guy on the train, one which truly left an indelible impression on me. Being the skilled and thorough researcher that I am, I gave a quick look into the history of the critical reception of Tropic of Cancer by going to its Wikipedia page,  and would like to point out that in 1964 one critic described Tropic of Cancer as a “cesspool, an open sewer, a pit of putrefaction, a slimy gathering of all that is rotten in the debris of human depravity” (sounds good to me).  The one doing the judging there was one of the highest in the land at the time, being that it was Pennsylvania Supreme Court Justice Michael Musmanno. This proves my point: critics are mostly idiots.  Except for me. Because I would like to announce that I am going to pursue the following author of the following book until I make her Mrs. Ferris (number 2).

Now, I’ve been mulling over how to approach this post for some time now, and have finally decided that it simply must be done in installments, at the very least. Now while it’s true that Daddy falls in love pretty easy, and that I’m sure there will be many more Daddy Crushes as this blog goes forward, most likely starting Monday or so, in my heart of hearts, I’ve been madly in love with one woman and one woman only for a few years now, ever since I first discovered her while searching for porn. Rechelle was my first bloglove, and I’ll never forget the times we shared, but another woman came along and swept me off my feet…and yes, she’s French.

(I’m sorry Rechelle. Oh that she were, perhaps, Cajun instead, thus weakening the cruel blow to your heart. But alas, that is not the case).

So without further ado, here she is, Daddy’s all time, soon-to-be serialized object of lust, dream girl crush, the Übercruschen, the captivating and lovely…Corinne Maier.

Ok, so she’s not the most alluring flower in the garden; I do acknowledge that. And in fact, this picture of her was actually one of the more flattering ones I could find online, to boot. So it’s clearly not the looks that I’m lusting over here, it’s the contents of that magnificent Gallic brain of hers. The one that turned out this masterpiece:

Now, I really don’t know what to say.  Really, there is nothing for me to do besides lay prostrate before her, find her contact information, and try to get an interview/date with her. All of which I will begin doing as soon as I click “publish” on this post. While many of you are certainly familiar with the lovely Ms. Maier, some of you may not be, so for the uninitiated: she is a stoutly anti-child bearing, French psychologist/author, and mother of two children. The title up there translates as “No Kids: 40 Reasons Not To Have Children.” And again, she is also a mother of two. Children. Who can presumably read books…their mother’s included.

Now, concerning this book review, I didn’t actuallyread” the book, at all, per se, but allow me to assure you, it is absolutely brilliant and groundbreaking. (Note: supposedly, Maier claims the book to be satirical, but psht, that’s Frenchspeak for “I am so serious about this.” And even if it is satirical, it makes no difference; the majority of people don’t really get satire anyway, as has been scientifically proven by my inbox).

I sometimes find myself  daydreaming about Maier…the two of us gliding blissfully hand-in-hand down the Boulevard Saint-Germain like hazily-conjoined, dark-lined rain clouds, both of us free, so child-free–

–Maier, light of my life, Watered-down de Beauvoir to my Absentee Sartre–

–her having finally just walked out on the two kids she’s repeatedly said she regrets giving birth to in both print and on national television, because, well, really, at that point, you may as well just walk away from them. They’re going to have some serious issues with you after that.

Trust me, I know.

Look, there is simply too much to get into when it comes to Corinne Maier and that masterpiece tome of hers. I don’t want to blow my load early on this one. So we’ll just leave it at that for now. I’m off to hunt down her contact info now.

And you know, it’s funny.

I never believed in soul mates…until now…


4 Responses to “Advice Column Break: Daddy’s Book Review, And Tragic Obsession With Corinne Maier”

  1. The Other Teacher January 29, 2011 at 9:21 pm #

    LOL….her book looks like an interesting book I should have read before the big “Y” word was said to my husband.

    sometimes…I just don’t know what to say…LOL…

    • absenteedaddy January 30, 2011 at 4:10 am #

      Yeah, I’m on it @ reading No Kids, definitely. Wish I would have read that before…the two little whoopsies…as well.

  2. absenteedaddy January 29, 2011 at 5:41 pm #

    Two crushes, and counting. That was fucking awesome, Hiney. I wish I didn’t have to go do my goddamned laundry right now, otherwise I’d just sit back and leisurely read and re-read that comment all afternoon. But as soon as I get back from wringing my socks and boxers out over my kitchen sink, I will, in fact, leisurely read and re-read that comment all afternoon. Though I don’t believe in books, reading, or book reviews, and, as a result, could perhaps be categorized as “semi-illiterate,” I have decided to add your comment to my reading list. So that there are now two things on my reading list: 1. Corrine Maier’s No Kids. 2. Hiney’s The Great Comment. I added The Great Comment in the interest of diversifying the reading list, as I don’t want my world view to be insular.

  3. Hiney Tingle January 29, 2011 at 5:12 pm #

    Daddy, you’re lucky you have a penis. Motherhood is marketed toward women, and attached to our perceived self-worth. That’s what all the fucking mommy bloggers out there don’t want you to know. If they didn’t occupy themselves with nursery wall-art, and finding another diaper bag, their lives would be meaningless, and they would know they depleted their potential with mindless mothering and overly-attentive helicopter parenting.
    All these sad, little mommy blogs and soccer moms are empty and worthless. If they didn’t wake up in the morning to feed their children organic, low-sugar yogurt, they would have to go out and face the world. They would have to interact with people who are different from them, and having children allows them to stay in their little protective bubble.

    Maier’s ideas ring true for a lot of people, but Oh! the shame in admitting it. We shouldn’t admit that perhaps we don’t need to contribute by propagating the earth. We can be productive, happy, contributing members of society without wanting to breed. Something is wrong with successful women who don’t want spawn, or, worse yet, have children and are able to admit that their life could be better without them. Damn those women who speak out, because they ruin the chicken-finger party for the rest of us. If a woman births a tiny human from her body, and then immediately doesn’t decide to hang up every aspect of her existence to become a “mommy mom” who eats, sleeps and shits baby outfits and stroller options, we label her as depressed. Those kinds of moms need psychological help. Something is wrong with them. Let’s lock up those moms who want to go back to work, and enjoy an after–work cocktail instead of bowing to marketing propaganda. So we decide it is the right thing to do to buy the $25 cup-holder on our SUV stroller so we can meet other “mommy moms” in the park and have a place for our Starbucks Grande Latte.

    I have a toddler, whom I love dearly. While pregnant, I kept waiting for the explosive moment where I was supposed to change and realize that nothing in my life ever was, or ever will be more important than this tiny human. People said, “Once he’s born, everything in your life will change, and you won’t be the same person”. I knew better, and knew I could still be successful and happy as an individual person who doesn’t identify myself as a mommy first, and an individual, second. Fuck everyone who says the only way to parent, or live, is to breed, and relinquish everything you know about your existence so you become consumed with crib sheet patterns. I’m still a great, amazing, fucking parent. Better than most (I have a Master’s degree in education, and years of experience teaching Kindergarten and elementary school.) My son doesn’t have hand-painted patterns on his walls. I don’t even own a diaper bag. We don’t own a changing table, crib, sippy cups or all the other thousands of meaningless materials I was supposed to feel giddy about buying. My son eats his vegetables, and loves reading stories. He’s just as happy and healthy as the kids who ride around in cushy shopping carts with a quilted, custom cover. But, I would still like to bitch-slap mommy bloggers who feed the mommy machine by taking away more of the individual, and replacing it with sippy cups. Those moms, are taking away the power of the woman to realize their own self-worth, as independent from breeding. Maier, and women like her balance out our society (or French society) by showing a flipside to life, and parenting. And, the irony is, Maier’s kids are just as well-adjusted, and independent as the mommy blogger that promote an $80 crib mobile.

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