Plus, our fact-checkers weigh in on a new novel about fact-checking.
Book Gossip

This month: Sophie Gilbert talks to us about porn, our fact-checkers nerd out about fact-checking, there's Sarah Hoover drama on Reddit, and we tell you which April books are worth your $26.   

Emily Gould

Features writer, New York 

NOSTALGIE DE LA BOUE

Wear All the Low-Rise Jeans You Want, But Let’s Never Go Back to the Fratboyification of Mainstream Culture in the Aughts and 2010s  I talked with Sophie Gilbert about her new book, Girl on Girl, and what, if anything, is better about our culture now. 

 In one storyline in American Pie (1999), a teenager sets up a hidden camera in his bedroom so he can record another student changing her clothes and share it with all his friends!  Photo: Universal Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

When I was 13, in 1992, the first Riot Grrrl convention was held in Washington, D.C., near where I lived. The movement formed a crucial part of how I thought about the world. Along with Hole, Tori Amos, Björk, and Liz Phair, Bikini Kill and Bratmobile made me feel good about myself, my body, and my brain. They wrote and sang about sex in a way that seemed casual, funny, and even powerful, rather than shameful or abject. Then in 1999, as I graduated high school and entered college, a huge cultural shift occurred. It was almost as if the first notes of ‘… Baby One More Time’ brought the entire cultural edifice crumbling down — no offense to Ms. Britney Jean Spears personally intended. But it felt like I entered adolescence in a utopian moment and left it just in time for the backlash to occur. That’s where Sophie Gilbert’s new book, Girl on Girl: How Pop Culture Turned a Generation of Women Against Themselves, picks up.

In her exploration of how women were represented in the pop culture of the aughts and early 2010s, Gibert paints a somewhat grim picture. People who came of age after some of this dust settled may be shocked to realize exactly how blatantly misogynistic music, TV, and movies were during this time. I talked with Sophie about how cultural backlashes are cyclical, porn’s influence on society, how the 2010s boomlet in women’s first-person writing paved the way for Me Too, and the tiny signs of progress she sees in the culture even in these dark times.  

 

I entered my 20s thinking that, because of my utopian years of full-on Riot Girl ’90s culture, I was inoculated. And it turns out there's actually no effective vaccine against misogyny and internalized misogyny. Why do you think that moment of cultural backlash was so intense? 
It almost made it worse, right? Because when you have a movement like that, that's that powerful and influential to girls, it sparks a backlash because people are so enraged by it. You almost start to feel like the positive movement was counterproductive. The pattern of progress and backlash throughout the past few decades gets really exhausting to me.

What did you find in your research that surprised you the most?
I didn’t go into the book expecting porn to be such a big part of it, which I think was naïve. My mom, unfortunately, is upset that porn is such a big part of the book because she wants to tell her friends to read it and now feels like she can't. So — sorry, mom. But it was the history.

There were moments when I really gasped because everything just seemed so intricately interconnected. There's a chapter where I write about torture porn and the Hostel movies. And finding out that the Hostel movies were produced by Mike Fleiss, the creator of the Bachelor — that was one moment when I gasped. I found a quote in photographer Terry Richardson’s 2004 coffee table book, Terryworld, about Abu Ghraib: “You look at the images from Iraq, with that 20‑­ year-­old girl making prisoners masturbate for the camera. It comes from porn.” Then going full circle, I found an American Apparel ad from 2010 that had staged women models into a human pyramid, as a way of emulating one of the really obscene photos from Abu Ghraib.

It was all coming from porn. It was all coming from the cheapness of the ways models were being treated as faceless, nameless commodities. Jumble them all together in a giant human pyramid to sell T-shirts.

Were you ever worried about being so critical of porn?
I think I told my editor a few times, “I really don't want to seem like a boring scold. That's not how I feel.” But at the same time, it was revelatory to me to see how much porn had influenced everything in our culture in ways no one had really processed.

Between 1986 and 1996, the number of porn VHS rentals went from 60 million a year to 700 million a year. That was before the internet and then obviously the internet came along and suddenly everyone was watching porn. There's no way that wouldn't influence our culture. 

I'm not opposed to porn at all, but what I studied during my research, it's just undeniable that porn changed the terms of our relationships, of our understanding of one another, of our lives, of our love lives, of the way we relate to one another, but also our culture. It did it in this really insidious way. Porn is like reality television, and they're both subjects I consider in the book. They're both things that people don't want to talk about. They’re written off as trash or people's private business or whatever, but they're hugely influential. So if you're not thinking seriously about them, you're missing a huge part of history.

I agree with so much of what you said in the book, but there’s this one part that gave me pause in your chapter that touches on the early-aughts boom in sex-work memoirs. You give the writers credit for not glamorizing their profession and for destigmatizing this work, but you also say those books helped enshrine the idea that women's bodies were the “ultimate millennial commodity.”

It may be an instance where two things can be true at the same time, but those books helped me understand that women's bodies have always been seen as a commodity rather than being something new or specific to the time period. It felt like this was something the culture was newly able to be upfront about rather than something that was merely “porno chic.” And I know “porno chic” is probably a big reason those books were sold to publishers, and probably had the kinds of covers they did, and were marketed the way they were marketed. But I guess I'm curious about how you parse that fine distinction between women's very intentional exposure of the conditions of their subjugation and instances where women are being exploited?
The ones I was thinking about most keenly when I wrote that piece were Belle de Jour’s The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl, because I too had read that book and seen the Billie Piper show, and Tracy Quan's memoir, Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl. I loved reading that book because she is totally unapologetic and very honest about what she's doing and why she's doing it. It's not a memoir of pain and trauma; it's a memoir of “this is how I do my job and make my money.” Especially with these books, I really, really don't want to indict them individually. I think it's more like trying to get at what the entirety of living through everything culturally in this moment felt like.

I do remember, and I think specifically about being in the U.K. during this time, too, it's just such a tabloid culture of lad mags, “Page Three,” you go on Big Brother and then you do a top-off shoot for a men's magazine and then you get a big contract. It felt like those were your opportunities. It was either that or marry a footballer and get a handbag. These were our paths to fortune, our paths toward having a presence in media. What I wanted to do so much was not pick anything apart but communicate the totality of how it felt. 

You know I have to ask about women's first-person writing and how its popularity waxes and wanes over time. You resisted writing in the first person as you worked on this book, and even though you mention at times that you felt pressure to bring in your own experiences, why didn't you want to go there?
I've written about myself in the past. I'm not averse to it. When I was pitching this book, every editor really saw it as more of a “memoir in essays.” It sounds like such a Hannah Horvath thing to say: “memoir in essays.” And that just wasn't what I wanted the book to be. I'm a critic; I look at things and I analyze them. The thrill I get is in making connections and making things make sense in a way that maybe hasn't made sense to me before or maybe hasn't even made sense to other people before. While at first, I’d been thinking of it as criticism, it's actually ended up being more of a history book. It's not the kind of history that people usually see as history because there's no men in battle, there's no geopolitics, there's no serious currency matter or business, but it is history that had an impact on women. 

The thing I really didn't want to do was crop up throughout like Forrest Gump. Here I am, I'm seeing Amy Winehouse in a bar. Here I am, I'm getting emails from Jian Ghomeshi. But there were moments, just because I lived through this era, where my history collided with the chapters in ways I felt were worthy of consideration, and I put those in. But otherwise, I was more interested in looking outward. That's not because I have any kind of objection to women's first-person writing. I think it's really powerful. After this decade of the 2000s where women were just being torn apart, torn into strips in the media, of course there was this movement to assert women's interiority in their souls, in their feelings, in their emotional depth, in their intellectual lives, and I'm so grateful that happened. 

My U.K. editor pointed out when I was working on my chapter about women auteurs that it's highly likely that when the Me Too movement came along, women's stories were treated seriously because there had previously been this moment of first-person narratives. I know people sometimes write them off as trauma narratives or stories of female pain, but I think that precursor movement then made it easier to listen to women, to take them at their word.

Can I ask you a question? Why do you think people got so angry at you when you wrote about yourself? Why do you think that was?

I've been asked that so many times over the years. I used to get upset when people asked me that because I felt like they should be asking the people who got angry at me, rather than asking me what I thought it was about my writing that made people so angry.

But I have spent a lot of time thinking about it. I still consistently write things that make some subset of people really angry. But increasingly, I have found there is maybe an equal or even greater positive response. And those responses are thoughtful and nuanced, and they come from people who I respect and admire. And the negative responses have stayed so consistent over the past 20 years. They basically just all boil down to: “What do you think gives you the right to speak?”

There are various different flavors of that sentiment. “What makes you qualified to be the person who is telling this story? What makes you think you're qualified to tell any story? Don't you feel that you might be potentially harming the people in your life who are affected by the fact that you're telling the story in public?” Those responses have stayed the same, whereas the positive responses have gotten more nuanced. That's the only really good reason to do this kind of work I think. I'm not some kind of saint, obviously I'm writing for my own selfish reasons too, but I am always hoping for that kind of connection.
I've been thinking a lot about Mary Beard's writing about the long cultural history of women being silenced. And she goes all the way back to the Odyssey where Telemacus tells his mother to shut up because the men are talking. I think it speaks to how our narratives have been written by men, historically, forever. And so when women come forward and present themselves as subjects, and consider themselves worthy of being subjects, there's such an outrage at the audacity of that. It's like, "How dare you?” It's so deep in our DNA, because it's just the way that things have always been.

We are very happy to let men ramble on about their lives in seven book series. But women get approached with much more scrutiny and much more disdain. There's just this shocked surprise whenever a woman speaks. When you're talking about the tenor of the criticism not having changed, I really think it is this millennia-old impulse. But that is heartening that it's quieter now, and that the other responses are checking it.

Are these issues inevitably cyclical? Fatphobia, for example, was just so much more blatant in the early 2000s. Then there was this almost mainstream body positivity movement. But since GLP-1s have become nearly ubiquitous, that movement now seems like it was just a cruel joke. What do you make of that?
I don't want to be like, "This is why I wanted to write the book," but it is. I do think once you understand that there's nothing new under the sun and that the same old tricks will always come up to trap you, it's a little bit easier to resist, or at least to question.

I think certainly we don't have the same fatphobia now that we had back then. No one's going to publish a book called Skinny Bitch where they lambast the reader for being a disgusting fat pig. But it's different. I think what's happening now is sneakier. GLP-1 drugs seem promising in so many ways. They seem to have helped so many people. And health-wise, that's fantastic. I am worried about the cultural impact of just normalizing skinny bodies again, because they're easier to achieve than they've been in the past.

Even though some of these things come back in a sneakier form, maybe we gain a bit of nuance every time the same thing comes around.
I think so much of our culture is so much better. I was just thinking about movies and what happened to women in the movies of the 2000s. We were just boring scolds and sex objects. And then if you look at the Golden Globes and the Oscars this year, there were all these stories about childbirth, aging and toxic beauty standards, and all these women in their 40s and 50s on the red carpet being nominated for the roles of their lives. That is wholly new.

The politics of this moment are horrific, and I lose sleep over it. It really does feel like what's happening to trans people, what's happening to immigrants and refugees, is beyond monstrous and hard to process even because it's so awful. Also, there does seem to be a real movement to get women out of the workforce. But the difference this time I think is that culture is not enforcing those messages. It's not supporting them yet. 

Maybe things will change, maybe I'm being too optimistic. But I don't see Project 2025 being reiterated in mainstream culture. Maybe on podcast elements of the manosphere, and maybe YouTube is mainstream culture now, and I'm being naive. But in terms of the products that women engage with, like reality shows, movies, stories, books, music, there's so much that is better. I think you see Chappell Roan and Sabrina Carpenter and Doechii, and they're just not letting people tell them what to do, or how to behave, or how to present themselves. They don't have to. That, for me, feels so different in such a hopeful way, that maybe if we just hold on long enough, things will swing back the other way again.

In what areas would you say we’ve made progress, as a culture? 
I think we have made real progress in the sense that the culture at large doesn't license the sexualization of teenagers in a way that it once did. I remember walking to the bus in my school uniform when I was 12, and being catcalled by guys in trucks and stuff. And it's so hard not to feel that it's your fault, that you're doing something wrong. All these movies in the 90s were really hung up on this fetishized idea of the teenager, the teenager who's going to be deflowered, the knowing teenager, the innocent one. American Beauty won five Oscars.

It was just freeing to understand that none of this had really anything to do with me. It was licensed by the culture in the moment. I think that has changed. I'm not saying that the impulses have gone away, but I don't think men these days feel as free to sexualize 13, 14 year olds in the way that they seemed apparently fine with doing in the 90s.

I really hope that today's young people feel less shame in general. It's just a constant buzz in our minds that distracts us from whatever else we could be doing.
It does start to feel conspiratorial if you are so focused on yourself, always so focused on other women and what they're doing, you're not looking outward and thinking about what you really need, what you really want to change. But it takes a long time to figure that out. I'm still struggling with it in my 40s.

 

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FACT VS. FICTION

Our Research Department Fact Checks The Fact-Checker  Yes, they sometimes get obsessive about their work. No, they aren’t quite as annoying as the one in the book.

Photo-illustration: by The Cut

In Austin Kelley’s debut novel, The Fact-Checker, our unnamed hero is a fact-checker by trade but also by temperament. He works at “the Magazine,” a thinly veiled proxy for The New Yorker, but he has a tendency, a near compulsion, to bring his work home and anywhere else he might go. He can’t help himself — he sees facts everywhere. Every street name is an opportunity for a lecture on arcane city ordinances; every passing reference becomes a history lesson. When an unassuming fluff piece about a tomato vendor at the Union Square Greenmarket hits the Fact-Checker’s desk, he becomes fixated on an inscrutable line in the story about some sort of “nefarious business” at the market. And when one of the main sources in the article, a farmer named Sylvia, goes missing, he goes down a rabbit hole to try to find her, propelled onward by his own inextinguishable pursuit of the facts. The result is an After Hours–esque dream sequence of increasingly absurdist events and one-off characters who sprout up to deliver meditations on life, love, or tomatoes. 

Who better to consider The Fact-Checker than a jury of its peers? The research department at New York Magazine convened to discuss the novel on its merits as well as our qualms and quibbles about the way Kelley — himself a former New Yorker fact-checker — represents fact-checking in his book. —Isabel Cristo

What do you make of The Fact-Checker’s depiction of our noble profession? He really gets into the details of how the sausage is made at the Magazine. 

Liz: I wrote “This is so annoying” so many times in the margins. Annoying but true. Lines like “That’s not how we do things at the magazine” or “I’ll speak with the editor, but I can’t promise anything.” I’ve said that a million times. It’s funny to see that reflected back to you.

Najwa: I did feel like it was a really accurate representation of the job. The narrator spends a good amount of the book just relaying random facts he has held on to from work, and it’s true we do amass all these random little things over the years.

Jess: One pretty unrealistic thing was just how much time he’s not at his desk to do his job. It actually would be nice if we could talk to sources face-to-face as much as he seems to. 

Liz: This book would be so boring if he were doing his job at his desk the whole time. 

Rachel: I liked what Kelley had to say about the neuroses of the fact-checker, the flood of fear about: Did I ask all the right questions? Did I ask carefully enough? Is there something I missed? And that anxiety about making someone go through something painful with you over the phone. Have I given them enough of a chance to correct the record? He captured that, especially in that opening scene where he’s talking to the widow of that soldier for a story.

Did it strike you as realistic, the way he’s such a permanent receptacle for all these facts he absorbs from his work? Every time I finish a piece, I have to let everything I’ve learned leach out of my brain to make room for the next thing. 

Rachel: I was recently invited to trivia, and everyone thought I would be a lot better at it than I was. There was a trivia question about something I had fact-checked, and I got it wrong.

Liz: I’m sorry, you got it wrong?

Rachel: It was about who founded Death Row Records. I was like, I know this. I was so confident it was Snoop Dogg. The right answer was Dr. Dre. Actually, if I encounter something in the real work that’s about something I’ve fact-checked, I sometimes have to run the other way because I’m afraid someone will reveal something I didn’t catch in the moment.

It really does feel like this book was about fact-checking on every level, but was it about anything else? Do you think those things are actually interesting to the average reader, a non-fact-checker? Do you think others besides us care about how the sausage gets made? 

Najwa: That’s the question: What is the purpose of this book? What is this book about? All these themes come up — post-9/11 politics, capitalism, freedom, labor, memorialization — but what did they amount to? Where does he take us? It felt one-dimensional. 

Rachel: Being generous, situating this story after 9/11 and writing a book about what it means to be the arbiter of truth, working for a publication that both presents and launders the truth and the official narrative, at a time when America was explaining away an utterly useless and destructive war, made me think about the role of the magazine and the newspaper in that context. Then within that, what’s the fact-checker’s role? 

The 9/11 corollary today would be about Trump, right? So many of our sources or outsiders will inevitably mention something about the value of fact-checking “now more than ever.” Like checking the facts is going to save our democracy. But the facts are always being used in service of a story, right? Sometimes they can be used to tighten up an argument I find personally objectionable, for example.

Rachel: Yeah, everyone who knows me is always telling me I do such important work: “You’re making the truth true.” Yes, but also we do it within the stricture of an institution with a particular set of values and a very complicated set of rules. In the book, how much are the journalists the fact-checker is working with invested in telling this larger story and getting to the heart of it? We get a little bit of that in the stories he’s checking about the war in Afghanistan, but we don’t really get a lot of the character grappling with that because he gets so bogged down in the details of those stories, in the facts. Did he want to critique The New Yorker or the media landscape in general at the time? He didn’t really give us enough to know. 

What did you think of our protagonist, the Fact-Checker himself?

Jess: God, he was so insecure, and I guess that is definitely a central feature of the job because you’re supposed to question everything, even though you can never project that insecurity on the job. 

Najwa: He also doesn’t really have any direct dialogue, and that, in a funny way, mimics the role of the fact-checker too. It’s this kind of backstage role — you’re an observer, you’re always on the lookout, you’re lurking, you’re digging around, but you’re not yourself driving the action. He had a lot to say internally but not outwardly to other characters. 

Liz: He’s also so weirdly void of politics, which can be a tough part of fact-checking. He’s so dismissive and judgmental of people having convictions and being engaged with the world at an emotional level. At the same time, he’s always proselytizing about something he just learned about.

What stories have you worked on where you’ve truly gone down the rabbit hole? One time, I was so in the weeds that I really thought I might be the one to crack a double-homicide cold case from the ’80s. 

Liz: Sometimes, the ones I think are going to be the easiest are the ones that end up completely ruining my life.

Najwa: There’s always a massive amount of anxiety no matter what. 

Jess: The health and science ones that don’t have a straight answer always stick with me, when we don’t know exactly what’s happening in the body. I checked this feature about a woman getting an autism diagnosis in her 40s and how it changed the trajectory of her life. It was one of those ones that make you think about the limits of fact-checking because it’s so much about someone’s personal experience and how much the people we rely on as sources are moving through the world with a perspective that can’t necessarily be checked.

Do you think one personality lends itself better to fact-checking? Did the Fact-Checker embody it?

Liz: The way he carries his job out into the world was so cloying. The idea of being a “natural-born” fact-checker comes up so many times in the book, and I don’t think that’s a real thing. 

Jess: I had a professor tell me once that the best journalists are all insecure overachievers.

Najwa: You do have to have a certain level of neurosis. 

Jess: Yeah, I don’t think everyone is excited about the idea of picking apart a sentence.

Liz: Are you excited by that idea?

Jess: Sometimes!

This job makes me really appreciate the freedom to be wrong. I have this feeling that all the best pieces of journalism from [redacted writer] or [redacted writer] or those iconic Vanity Fair articles from the ’90s were just, like, full of lies and they could be true and maybe that’s good enough! I find myself wanting to counteract my professional nit-pickiness with a kind of respect for one’s creative license. 

At the same time, I really related to the Fact-Checker’s underlying horror about being the last line of defense. It’s built into the system that everyone else with their hands in the story — the sources, the editors, the writers — not only can but will make mistakes and that your job is to transcend that fallibility. It’s a kind of impossible task.

Liz: I always remember this one time someone misprinted a distance in miles instead of kilometers, and the distance printed was more than the circumference of Earth. Someone wrote in and said, “Because you are wrong about this one thing, I can’t trust anything that comes from this magazine.” The whole reputation of this magazine rests on my little shoulders. 

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AITAH?

Is This Reddit Post Really by Sarah Hoover’s Sister?  It sure seems like it. 

Book Gossip readers doubtless remember our conversation about art consultant Sarah Hoover’s best-selling, controversial memoir of postpartum depression, The Motherload, as well as the review in which Erica Schwiegershausen praised Hoover’s seemingly “compulsive honesty.” As it turns out, “honesty” may not quite capture the full story. In a post on r/AITAH — first shared by Kaitlin Phillips on her Substack — someone who appears to be Hoover’s sister, Rachael, accuses the author of reneging on a promise never to write about the stillbirth her sister suffered ever again after first doing so in a magazine essay. According to Rachael, Sarah also got several crucial details about the traumatic event wrong in her book. “I know these things only matter to me and don't matter to the general point of her book's narrative,” she wrote. “But, when the only way you get to be a mom to your son is through those very few memories you have, it feels like a really big deal for someone to do this.” (I asked Sarah for comment and will let you know if I hear more.) “You could go nuclear at potentially major personal emotional cost and go fully public in naming and shaming,” advises redditor 4me2knowit. Perhaps Rachael now has, though hopefully her personal emotional costs are kept to a minimum. 

WHAT TO READ

The April Releases You Should Buy, Skip, or Put on Hold at the Library

Fish Tales, by Nettie Jones
Acquired by Toni Morrison and originally published in 1984, this novel about the slippery and sexy life of a party girl named Lewis Jones unfolds in 1970s New York and Detroit. Would recommend for aspiring hot girls and former hot girls wanting to revisit the peripatetic life of a woman becoming and discovering herself. Buy. —Tembe Denton-Hurst, writer at the Strategist

A/S/L, by Jeanne Thornton
The story starts in 1998 with three teenagers who meet online and start making a video game together. It ends in 2017 when all three of them, now trans women in their 30s, are briefly reunited. The characters’ interactions take place almost entirely online, but don’t let the chapters told solely through chat-room dialogue or email exchange deter you — you’ll be glad you made it to the emotional ending. Buy. —Katja Vujić, writer and social editor

A Drop of Corruption, by Robert Jackson Bennett
Meet the delightful Holmes-Watson team of Ana Dolabra, a blindfolded investigator who never leaves her room but always finds the murderer, and Dinios Kol, her himbo assistant who has been bionically enhanced never to forget anything he experiences. It’s the second book in a series but can stand alone. A subtle anti-imperialist message is interwoven with all the magical crime solving and the poisons derived from rotting whale corpses (just go with it). Buy. —Emily Gould

Audition, by Katie Kitamura
An aging actress embarking on the role of a lifetime encounters an aspiring actor claiming to be her child; midway through the book, the plot inverts, and this young man is presented as her actual child. Kitamura constructs beautiful sentences and writes dread exceptionally well, but too many questions hang over the end of Audition for it to be a satisfying read. Library hold. —Julie Kosin, senior editor, Vulture

Open, Heaven, by Seán Hewitt
When James returns to the English village where he grew up for the first time since leaving home, he’s flooded with memories of Luke, the tragically straight boy he fell in love with as a teenager. Hewitt’s a celebrated Irish poet, and the book is full of yearning and lush descriptions of the English countryside. But by the end, I still wasn’t sure why this was the love that had haunted him all his life. Library hold. —KV 

 

In Other News …

  • On her Substack, recent Guggenheim Fellowship winner Miranda July details the special diet that’s helping her recover from adrenal collapse in her trademark engrossingly detailed fashion.
  • You’ve probably seen these pictures of Noah Wyle reading books with and without a beard and with and without glasses by now, but here, see them again. 
  • Plus, some can’t-miss literary events coming up in NYC! I’ll be in conversation with Arianna Rebolini about her book Better: A Memoir About Wanting to Die at Books Are Magic Montague Street this Friday. Prep by reading an excerpt. 
  • And on May 7, we have some dueling book releases. New York Mag’s own Bridget Read launches her book, Little Bosses Everywhere: How the Pyramid Scheme Shaped America, at P&T Knitwear with Robert Kolker, while at Books Are Magic Montague Street, Amanda Hess launches her memoir, Second Life: Having a Child in the Digital Age. Check out our interview with Amanda here. 
 

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