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A review by melcanread
The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix
Did not finish book. Stopped at 31%.
While this was an original concept and one that I was excited to sink my teeth into, the level of disappointment I feel is unmatched. Yet, somehow I'm not surprised. Reading this book was a reminder to me why I dislike male authors, and why I always gravitate towards non-binary or female voices.
The Final Girl Support Group follows a group of women who were the final girls in their respective horror movies, when the serial killer was defeated or taken away by the police, and what these women did after the murderer was locked up behind bars. I told you, an interesting and original concept. But, the problem was the author.
This was a (presumably) straight, white, cisgendered man's take on social issues plaguing women and Black women of America, and by extension the rest of the world. And while some of the main points he made I could totally agree with, you could tell that Grady Hendrix was not, personally, affected by any of the issues he was talking about. Nor did he really care. And while he was addressing sexism, he would also write very sexist sentences that made me feel very uncomfortable, or, at least, angry.
The Final Girl Support Group follows a group of women who were the final girls in their respective horror movies, when the serial killer was defeated or taken away by the police, and what these women did after the murderer was locked up behind bars. I told you, an interesting and original concept. But, the problem was the author.
This was a (presumably) straight, white, cisgendered man's take on social issues plaguing women and Black women of America, and by extension the rest of the world. And while some of the main points he made I could totally agree with, you could tell that Grady Hendrix was not, personally, affected by any of the issues he was talking about. Nor did he really care. And while he was addressing sexism, he would also write very sexist sentences that made me feel very uncomfortable, or, at least, angry.
I know what it's like. You don't want someone angry at you, especially a man, so you say yes to things you don't want to do because there's no road map for you where you are, nothing to guide you except a neon sign in your head that says Do not make men angry. - Page 44
I should have kept my distance because once a man gets his hands on you it's all over. - Page 106
There was even a scene where the main character, Lynette, shows her scarred and damaged breasts from her run-in with her very own serial killing monster to her therapist's (26-year-old) son, and catches him masturbating in his bedroom. She is constantly described as being this selfish, paranoid, plant-obsessed crazy woman when in reality she's a terrified trauma and sole surviving victim of a tragic attack that has broken her. There's no empathy for his own character, and it strikes me as bizarre that he would even attempt to write this in the first place when he clearly doesn't care for half of the issues he was writing about in the first place. Why make it a political piece when you pretend to understand, but don't?
The problem is is that sometimes it's also a decent read and a fantastically original idea. But it's ruined by the fact that the author is a man.