the feminist librarian reads

Those are all great questions, actually, questions that indicate that, almost despite himself, Richard Cohen is learning something. But then the whole thing careens impressively off the rails and becomes an elegy for the days of the Real Man, the strong, stoical Marlboro Man type who’s always courtly to a lady as she swoons her way through the world, handkerchief dangling limply from her hand, moments away from being thrown in front of a speeding train by a mustachioed villain.