

I found the essays written when Rothfeld loves a thing (pasta, Melville, David Cronenberg‘s horror films, the comedies of remarriage from the 1930‘s & 40‘s, erotic sex with her partner) way more pleasurable than those when she writes about her hatred for a thing (minimalism, fragment novels, mindfulness). This is funny because Rothfeld herself draws attention to “the pleasure of hating,” a term coined by 19th century essayist William Hazlitt.👇🏻