I read a lot of apocalyptic fiction. I love apocalypse stories. I love to read about how, when the worst happens, humans can discover levels of ingenuity we never knew we had to overcome even the most insurmountable odds. You see the worst of humanity in these stories, but you also see the best.
That’s why I’ve had enough of how, yet again, even in what is otherwise a well-thought-out apocalypse story from a writer I respect, this is repeated as if it were the Gospel Truth: women in the apocalypse need men to protect them from gangs of rapist men. Single women should pair up as soon as possible, and a woman on her own is certain to be taken as a slave by the marauding rapists, or raped and killed. Even a married woman had better hope they married a bodybuilder and not a stockbroker.
No, seriously. This…
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