The worst thing about woke - the contemporary obsession with the politics of identity - is that you can’t get away from it. There is no hiding place. Not even in a good book.

Writers live in fear of being cancelled by pitchfork mobs on Twitter or being censored by the “sensitivity readers” employed by some publishers to ensure ideological guidelines are adhered to and pronouns corrected - though not in a grammatical senses. 

Novelist are told to “stay in their lane” and not write about races, genders or nationalities other than their own. This of course what great literature does: imaginatively reconstruct the interior lives of others.

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