This was surprisingly good and, dare I say, funny. Anyone else read it?

reddit

Sounds like a good read because the only writers that matters are white males.

I shan't be reading that! I shan't be reading it, and furthermore, I'm antisemitic!

It honestly didn't need to have that title. It wasn't anything special as far as reading guides go but it wasn't terrible (and the title is misleading--I don't recall any SJW bullshit in it).

>katzenstein
>schwartz
>fellow whites

I know this is a shitpost, but qrd on what the book actually says? Is it anything more than you'd expect?

https://therumpus.net/2018/06/19/rumpus-exclusive-guy-in-your-mfa-an-origin-story/
>There are five stories that you’re supposed to read before workshop tomorrow. You’ll go over them with a blue pen you dig from the bottom of your backpack with comments like “great line here!” and “maybe add more detail?”
>The first story is about a man who thinks his wife might be having an affair but isn’t sure. The man is considering boarding a plane but can’t remember if his ticket is refundable. “Maybe add more detail?” you write in the empty space after the final paragraph. “Like, so the main character feels like a human being?”
>The second story is about a man who sleeps with the girl who works at the local coffee shop and then decides he doesn’t want to sleep with her anymore.
>The third is about a man leaving his wife and then sleeping with the girl who works at the local record store.
>You realize all three stories are by boys in your class, the type who come in black T-shirts with holes at the collar and take notes in Moleskine notebooks and roll their eyes if a girl compares something to Jane Austen. They’re that boy you’ve seen smoking outside the Rock—the main library at Brown. (There’s a story they tell about it on tours for prospective students and their eager parents, how John D. Rockefeller was upset that students were calling his namesake library “the Rock”—until they started calling it “the John” instead.) Those boys are always on the stairs of the Rock, reclining back with one foot kicked up behind him so his body is straight and at as a board, forming the hypotenuse of a right triangle between the ground and the building.
>The stories were pretentious, but their worst crime, you realized, was that they were boring. You don’t care about the lonely white man who rides a train and wonders what more the country owes him. You don’t care about these men who have sex with women and feel sorry for themselves because the girls (the women become girls after they’ve been fricked) don’t understand how complicated they are. Terrible writing so often bejewels itself in the trappings of J. D. Salinger and Hemingway and Updike and Cheever and shouts, “Me, too!” as it glides into any room. There is nothing profound about not deciding to name a main character. “It’s meant to represent every man,” you can imagine one of the boys explaining tomorrow, rolling his eyes behind his Warby Parkers and massaging the bridge of his nose as if he’s so much better than all of this because he’s convinced himself he understood Ulysses. No, you think, you just wrote a bad story and hid it behind a cardboard cutout of what you think a good story would look like.

"My Struggle in the MFA Program: The White Man's Roadmap to Bookskrieg" by Levi Weinberg