It’s a strange thing with mothers. Even though they are irreplaceable in a person’s biography they are often omitted with a blurb about the author, especially in the classics.
Again and again as I pick up this or the other book from Shelley to Tchechov I find no mention of their mothers.
Yet we may rightfully assume they were born by mortal females who surely had some impact on them and their development. Fathers, on the other hand, are dutifully mentioned regardless of their influence as a parent. Ever noticed this?
I have a friend who patiently listens to my observations and then heaves a sigh and tries to push me back in line. Why do I care? After all it doesn’t really matter.
Why, for instance, do I notice and (what’s almost more reprehensible) mention that children’s plastic toy animals tend to be predominantly male?
I don’t know why I notice these things. But someone should. And someone should also say that it’s just a tiny bit off. So why not me?
Okay, okay, don’t tell me.
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