American Naturalism, in your face!

I've been reading this novel by James T. Farrell, a Chicago writer of the first half of the twentieth century. His stuff is very melodromatic and over-the-top, in some sort of hilarious ways. Props to J.T. for exploring the lives of normal poor and working class families, and for bringing some real issues to the literary spotlight. But damn, sam, did he ever even talk to a woman? All the female characters are harridans, whores, empty-headedly devout, and most of all, absolutely besotted by men. It's very weird it's all "You drunken wop, I'll tear your hair out! And then I'll have a mass said for father. Oh, Tommy, I do love you so!" That's not a real quote. But these are. You think you know how to insult somebody--say, your own progeny? You think you know how to curse?

Says Mother O'Flaherty to her daughter:
"Holy Virgin, Mother of God, may the blackest of curses of the Devil fall upon my sinful chippy of a daughter that came ass-end out of my backside on the day that she was born! May she live in want, die like a pig, and be buried in potter's field! Blessed Jesus, may all your curses and evils be poured on her head like dirty water used to feed the pigs! Blessed Jesus, may her teeth fall out, and may she die blind!"

Says six-year-old Margaret to her baby brother:
"Whore, shit, sonofabitch, whore, sonofabitch, sonofabitch, whore, shit."


Yeah. You won't find that in Harry Potter, chump.