In his appearances on shows like Dick Cavett’s, Norman Mailer often showed himself to be an immense ego. Especially while seated across from his ever contrasting, literary sparring partner, Gore Vidal. Mailer as curmudgeon and as one audience member yells, “chauvinistic,” was there to declare himself as his generations Hemingway, the ‘literary champion’ of the world. The master of American letters. Mailer was a great writer, he knew that and demanded the world know it as well. From an era when the writer was held in regard, many then read, television shows often had authors on to debate and discuss. Intellect aroused the audience, the written word satiated a sapiosexual majority.

Mailer was a violent man, in such a regard lazily described to be a man of his time. A cover if there ever was one for universally understood vileness. In his youth the charismatic emotional declarations of greatness steeled from his works that the reading public craved, was charming. His established wealth as a writer was enough to grant him a cultural pass, even after he nearly stabbed his wife to death. In an egotistical intoxicated rage expressed by a man who must be heard, whose opinion and own mind was all that mattered, he could lash out. Even against his own wife. To be prone to violent outbursts made him macho, was part of his character. His disdain for liberalism, women’s liberation especially and his thoughts on sex were of a singular perspective, his own. In his writing their was empathy for a man who would murder his wife, and in his book Prisoner of Sex, a self obsessed thesis into his thoughts on sexuality, sex and relationships. He was more than that as a writer, but it was very much part of him and his appeal. Mailer saw himself as a prizefighter, each word he wrote, a punch landed, his prose a fight. Belligerent and competitive. Often prone to fist fights beyond the page.

In today’s age of self-promotion the diatribe script from curmudgeon Mailer, would serve many modern ‘influencers’ and social media creatures well. Lesser intellects who invest in imagery and falsified bravado. On them it’s appealing to the audience seeking unabsorbable content. In Mailer’s time it was obnoxious and detracted from his otherwise appreciated talents. Today it’s grift worthy. Those looking for ideological or philosophical agreement or disagreement may find plenty in the pages of Mailer, rather than the false minds of content ‘creators’.

The young man, with talent and wealth whether material or otherwise, obscene arrogance is now embraced. ‘He knows his worth.’ It can be passed on as attractive. Part of the package, appealing. In fiction such a character may be written by implied deed, the deed of their own words. The swagger is understood to be alluring. An expression of a man in control, strong in will. Better than others.

In Justine Ettler’s The River Ophelia, her books Justine loves Sade. When we first meet Sade, named for Marquis de Sade of sadomasochism fame, he is described as handsome, physically attractive to Justine. He writes for Playboy magazine, but hates it. He is above such a magazine. He is cocky.

“The only people who think writing for Playboy constitutes an interesting occupation are people I meet at parties. People like you.”

Sade can afford to slap Justine with his words, She is already attracted to him and impressed by his status. He has told her how overqualified he is for his role as a writer, for such a magazine. Perhaps a generation or so earlier and Justine could have met Mailer at a party, smiling in lust as he described himself in such a manner. His youth, wit and self-determined greatness just as attractive. Sade has more tomorrow’s ahead, than yesterday’s behind him. Unlike the Mailer when he lost the crowd on Cavett’s show.

The fictional Sade did not try to murder Justine with a penknife at a party. He did however do just about everything else to her in the following tenure of their relationship. Sade is narcissistic, a sadist. Ettler writes a sexual and kinky world that does not pull any punches or spare detail. A prison for the books Justine to live in, abuse at the hands of a lover. A dysfunctional relationship that seems to suit him, just not her. An arrangement of power imbalances that youth, talent, perhaps wealth, can buy a man who wants to control and sexually harm his woman.

In 1995, when The River Ophelia was released it was met with condemnation. Downplayed by some as low brow “yuppy” smut. It took time for the gatekeepers of society and literature to digest the books meaning. It was not a celebration of S&M or abusive relationships, rather a warning. A vulgar perspective for the reader to gleam into. A generation later and E L James would produce her own version of a dominated relationship, thanks to Stephanie Meyers and her Twilight series the world got Fifty Shades of Grey. There a rich, young, handsome man could seduce a woman into obedience through contract. Absent of looking like Harvey Weinstein, in James’s fiction we get Christian Grey, or the fictionalized adaption of a real life Andrew Tate, only better looking. In that case maybe more like Tristan. Grey can afford confidence, to demand, to own and inflict pain and degrade. He is young, handsome and above all else, rich. The trifecta of HOT.

With such a trio of traits, the character is not an antagonist, he is to be desired. The soft core porn is an insert for the reader. It sold well. Spawned films and a culture for commercialised BDSM. A plasticised kink for the unimaginative, cosplay for bored lovers to make believe that they are ‘wild’. Sade is a grim reality in fictional form, the Mailer with his arrogance is the intellectual ego, and Andrew Tate exemplifies the uberinfluencer with his villainy but is the public example of a real Christian Grey. A closer to Tate version we can see in the film series, 365 Days. A trafficker, drug dealer with daddy issues, has generic tattoos on muscles, he kidnaps a woman and demands that she falls in love with him. She has a year to do so, hence the title. It doesn’t take her long. His arrogance is sold for charming, sexy. Above all it’s his wealth that romances the viewer. Sex at grandiose locations, numerous shopping montages and champagne parties each validates her love. A mega yacht, always a yacht. It’s ‘hot’. The message to young men, be rich, be arrogant, be the villain. To women, seek these qualities out in men.

Thirty years ago, when Ettler gave us her Sade it was not a celebration of such men. It was a warning. Over time, the subtext and nuance found in such literature became lost. After all, one must read to better understand perspectives. The world has moved beyond Twilight and Fifty Shades, piles of their discarded DVDs and books thrown away like soiled tissue paper now buried in thrift shop bins. Both however inspired in part the uptick in paranormal romantic fictions and in part the influencer bro cult online. Wealth at all costs, gamers, shitcoin grifters, podcast bros, and all of the above who cultivated the imagery of success and arrogance. A gross symbiosis of youth, wealth, cockiness and ‘rizz’ to be abused via disdain and inauthentic content creation. The modern reverence for and celebration of arrogance for its own sake.

To tell the world that you are great, you are better is part of the gimmickry. It lacks the authentic hubris of Mailer, none of his raw emotionalism is present. Instead they are entitled to it. In time, they too will age. They will disappear beneath plumes of powder, or enjoy the trappings of their wealth. A Pewdiepie ever after, only most lack his dignity. To be replaced by AI agents, the filters and insincerity only better. And more. But unlike Mailer, who despite his victims and crude hatreds, appeal to violence, he has a legacy. He was real, truly himself and inside the pages he wrote, we may read his mind, however flawed, there was talent. Pick your sadomasochists wisely, they tend to age worse than milk, maybe you will see them for who they really are. Do remember it was you, you alone who let them dominate your feed, mind, body. Let them inside of you.

To the young men, if youth is your singular asset remember it’s a poor investment. It degrades fast and if talent is the bedrock of your personality, weeds of such arrogance will isolate over time. Self-perceived greatness does not justify abuse and reckless behaviour. Violence and cruelty are never validated, even if they are egotistical tantrums from the self determined important. Wealth can buy a lot of things, not dignity. There was a time when that mattered to some. For the young ladies, what may be sexy now, hot, will fade. It may be exciting, that too fades just like the bruises and tears. In reality, Anastasia is more like Justine. Both prisoners of love and desire, not because of good men, just bad ones.