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Sam Lipsyte and Lucinda Rosenfeld

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The Anathema Against Bikini Underwear

By Sam Lipsyte
Posted Tuesday, Nov. 14, 2000, at 6:18 PM ET

Lucinda,

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I don't need your permission to start talking about books like some kind of "god darn intellectual." I don't even need permission from intellectuals. As a man I overheard making the play in a bar recently put it, "I am my own person." Moreover, as I figured the boil barbs had run their course, it occurred to me that maybe I should talk about something with resonance in our lives. Namely, fiction. Judging from your response, I can see I was right.

Now I'm sure your lady friend at the New York Times Magazine is lovely and trustworthy, and I don't doubt the veracity of her depiction of Houellebecq the bikini-clad man, but what I'm talking about is Houellebecq the turtle-necked writer. Obviously, these are distinct entities. I don't give a damn what kind of media game he's playing. (Although sleazing up interviewers does seem to move units.) I care about what's on the page. Who said wanting to meet the author of a book you adore is like eating some wonderful foie gras and then desiring to meet the goose? Somebody said it. I think it was bikini underwear , or possibly Norman Fell, but either way the point stands. Besides which, when will this anathema against bikini underwear end? What did this preppie boxers era ever get us but homogeneity, mediocrity, and sexual malaise? The same women walking around in thongs feeling primal and empowered rip men who want the same tight stinky fit. It's an outrage, and I think if we all started reading Houellebecq we'd have more four-ways and fewer voting irregularities.

That said, I didn't mean to limit discussion to the white male spectrum, although if we keep talking about the election, that's unavoidable. Please write and tell me when we have a president-elect, and I promise I'll try to be more topical.

Yours,
Sam