Male of the Species by Alex Mindt

If I was going to judge this book, not only for its cover (a bad photo of a tree with the sunlight filtering through its branches) but for its title, Male of the Species, I imagine that I usually wouldn't even consider picking it up. For the most part, I read books by women. I don't think I need an explanation for reading what I am drawn to. This book is written by a man, and as far as I can tell, it is about men, almost solely. Really, it appears to be centered around the theme, not necessarily of father hood, but fathers themselves (though after reading a bit of it, this theme does not stand for the whole book, but at least a portion of it). The one story in the collection that I have almost finished is about one son's quest to set his father up with the recently divorced neighbor. An uncle also features prominently in the story. Some of the dialogue is humorous, even witty. And it isn't a book to make you think, which is exactly what I was searching for the moment I picked it up. A few stories into the book, I'll probably get bored and stop reading. But my mood will most likely change and I might find myself on my couch this evening finishing the rest of the book.

After going home to read more of this book last night, I determined that it wasn't a pleasant read at all. The pervasive attitude of the stories disagrees with me. As expected, the book is very masculine. This is not always a negative thing. But in this case, I want to say that it is. The book is masculine in a broad-disrespect-for-life sort of way, an I see the world my way and my way is correct sort of way. This is the dark side of masculine--basically a fuck-you attitude to the world riddled with pervasive selfishness. A few stories into the book, I stopped, finding myself growing more and more disgusted with the characters. The one story I did appreciate, was titled The Artist At Work.