Noah Berlatsky

The rom-com's worshipping of power and wealth comes with a gender twist.

Iin a passionate Facebook thread last week, children's author Meg Rosoff rejected the idea that there are "too few books for marginalized young people," as librarian Edith Edi Campbell had suggested.

Feminist dystopia at its finest. Joanna Russ imagines a world in which the elimination of gender hierarchy leads to freedom, strength, and power.

Bulimia.com has reworked superhero images to show more realistic body types—and their efforts are valuable in more than the expected ways.

To read Massive isn't to discover a hidden truth, but to see a massive, obvious fact, bulging out for all the world to see.

With the prospect of another Bush/Clinton presidential contest looming as ominously as Donald Trump's hairpiece, the word "dynasty" seems to be frothing off of many a pundit's keyboard. "Clinton, Bush struggle to shed dynasty labels," a Washington Post headline declared.

The surface text of the film is that you can't trust some guys. The (barely) subtext is that you can't trust any guys.

It's hard to deny the appeal of the masculine ideal, especially when embodied in Jude Law. And yet, it's also a depressing vision.

Daredevil focuses on the dynamics of heroism—the display of strength and violence as a way to distance oneself from weakness.

At first, this looks like sexism. And then you realize, hey, this is sexism. Hope isn't allowed to do the dangerous job because Pym has put her on a pedestal, and won't let her off it.