I have written about other kinds of men too. There are men who are callous and clumsy with other people’s hearts and there are men who cannot accept the reality that there are women more deserving and talented than them in the workforce or on the world stage. Many women recognize these depictions not as caricatures concocted by a bitter harpy but as the frightful inevitability of men too often raised to believe that their birthright would be exclusive ownership of truth and virtue. When they are informed by exasperated women that they hold no monopoly on the former nor do they particularly embody the latter, they declare themselves the victims of women’s hatred. They mistake the discomfort of being confronted with their own violence for the suffering of being on the receiving end of it. I am in awe of women who write courageously about men more dangerous and intent on destroying women than the ones I’ve written about. They are the giants whose shoulders I could only hope to stand on in writing about the destructiveness of men. But I have been heartened by the solidarity of women who support my modest enterprise in occasional boldness. I like our side of the lake.