Rainbowheart's Reviews > The Infinite Moment of Us

This is quite possibly the most sexist and anti-feminist YA romance I’ve ever read, and that’s saying something. Such a disappointment, and so totally not what I would have ever expected from Lauren Myracle.

Bear with me, ‘cause this is going to be long, but I think the author’s regressive treatment of gender and sexuality warrants serious examination. There’s so much wrong with this book that it’s hard to even know where to begin. There’s a lot wrong besides all the sexism, but since I can't address everything, I’ll try to stick to that.

There is so much sexism in this book. It is pervasive and overwhelming. Everything about Charlie and Wren’s relationship reeks of it. Wren is completely passive. She is a giggling, nervous virgin. She talks and acts like she’s about 12. Her innocence is attractive to Charlie, and he is very possessive of her.

There are many disturbing scenes in this book, but I found myself most incensed by the conversation between Charlie and Tessa, Wren’s best friend. Charlie goes to Tessa for advice on how best to have sex with Wren, which aside from being incredibly creepy and inappropriate, allows the author to make her anti-feminist agenda clear.

Not content with the already sexist dynamic between Charlie and Wren, the author goes further by having a “voice of God” character give Charlie a lecture on sex that is a blatant slam on feminism and sounds like it could have come out of the mouth of any right-wing conservative.

A few snips here and there, but the conversation is as follows....

She gave him unsolicited advice as well, instructing him firmly to take charge when things got “steamy.”
“Girls like guys who are strong,” she informed him.
“I’m serious,” Tessa said. “When it comes to sex, a girl wants the guy to take charge. Sometimes, I think, guys try to be too sensitive. And there’s nothing wrong with sensitive! Sensitive is awesome. But hear me out, all right?”
“Well, it’s kind of my mom’s theory,” Tessa said. “My mom says that girls are told over and over that they can do anything, be anything, have it all. Right?”
“But my mom also says that in all this girl-power business, a crucial fact has been glossed over. Wanna hear it?”
“Okey-dokey,” she said. “Well . . . my biggest point, really, is that girls and guys are different.”
“I mean it! And maybe what I’m saying doesn’t fit the conventional view of feminism, but I think guys and girls, if they’re straight, should celebrate and enjoy their differences.”
“It’s just my opinion, but a guy should be a guy, and a girl should be a girl, at least when it comes to doing it,” Tessa said.
“Just, whenever the time comes, take charge.” (223-226)

WTF? What exactly is the author proposing here? Why would she even think to imply that there is only one right way for straight people to have sex? She apparently makes an exception for LGBT people, but if you’re straight, you’re only allowed to want sex one particular way? You’re supposed to follow rigid gender roles?

It’s horrible that an author would write something like this. Something that practically guarantees that some of the teenagers reading will feel insecure or ashamed about their sexuality. If a straight girl wants to be in charge during sex, that’s not allowed? If she wants her guy to be sensitive and gentle, that’s not allowed? If a guy wants to let the girl take the lead, that’s not allowed? I don’t know what she is advocating, but my mind is going to a very disturbing place, one filled with the sort of rough, dominating sex found in many romance novels. What exactly is or isn’t allowed? A girl can’t be on top? A girl can’t initiate sex? All girls want to be passive and have the guy hold her down and fuck her? Well, despite what Lauren Myracle says, there is no one right way for straight people to have sex! Whatever feels good and feels right for both parties is perfectly fine. No one should ever feel like they have to act a particular way simply because of their gender, and that’s just as true for straight people as it is for LGBT people .

There is also this weird man/woman thing running through the last part of the book. I can’t tell whether this is more weird gender stuff or what, but the author is absolutely fixated on it. Does she mean to imply that having sex makes you a man or a woman? That it makes you an adult? Because these kids just graduated from high school. They are in love, sure, but they are kids. They’ve been dating for a couple of months. Sure, it’s hot and heavy. But it’s like the author wants us to see them as adult soulmates who are somehow supernaturally destined to be together forever. They talk about the future, Wren imagines them as husband and wife, but it all feels so fake, like they are just playing at being adults.

The man/woman obsession....

“You make me feel like I am a woman, if that makes sense.” (249)
“You make me feel like a man.” (249)
“A boy and a girl having sex in a car? That was a thrill ride, the excitement of a summer fling. But a man and a woman making love to each other again and again…” (250)
“If a man loved a woman, he should find a way to be with her.” (253)
“If a woman loved a man, couldn’t she find a way to be with that man?” (253)
“And you do make me feel like a man. No one makes me feel like you do.” (253)
“But Charlie, you are a man. I’m glad I make you feel that way, but it’s not me. It’s you. You are a man, and not just a man, but my man. I need you.” (254)
“He felt very tender towards her. Her protector, her man.” (275)

And, WTF, why does she need a protector? There’s so much more that’s wrong with this book. There’s the horrendous slut-shaming of Starrla, Charlie’s ex-girlfriend. There’s Charlie’s possessiveness. There’s the weird pretentious dialogue. There’s the preachy religious stuff. There’s the fact that the characters’ relationship feels like something out of the 1950s. Not only pre-feminist, but anti-feminist. I can’t go into everything, but I would like to address one more issue....

“I don’t want my first time to be with a condom unless we have to,” she whispered. “Just you and me--that’s what I want.” (221)
“With Starrla, he’d always worn condoms. With Wren, he was happy that their first time….would also be a first for him, and in more ways than one.” (222)

It’s really horrifying that this author would promote condomless sex as some kind of ideal experience that teenage girls should strive for. She’s idealizing it and romanticizing it. I can just imagine high school age girls reading this book and thinking how romantic it would be to have sex without a condom for their first time, nothing coming between them and their boyfriends. Except in real life, boyfriends aren’t always trustworthy. And neither are girlfriends. The last thing we should be encouraging is for boys to rely on their girlfriend’s word that she’s on birth control. How many young guys have found themselves unexpected fathers because their girlfriends told them they were on the pill? The pill is easy to forget and easy to sabotage. Unless teenage boys want to find themselves in that situation, they need to wrap it up each and every time. It’s all too easy to end up with a baby or an STD if you don’t use condoms.

For a much better look at loss of virginity from an actual feminist perspective, there is Vi from Ten Things We Did by Sarah Mlynowski. This is a girl who knows what she wants. She has a plan for her first sexual experience, decides how she wants everything to be, and seduces her more experienced male partner. She wasn’t a shrinking violet, and she sure as hell didn’t lie back and let the guy take charge, so I guess Lauren Myracle wouldn’t approve. This book also deals realistically with the possible ramifications of sex without a condom. Newsflash: people lie, and people cheat. Just because someone tells you they’re faithful or a virgin doesn’t mean that they actually are, which is why it’s important for teenagers of both sexes to fully protect themselves. Pregnancy isn’t the only bad thing that can happen.