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One of her favorite poets is a famed confessionalist, Sylvia Plath.

In doing so he reduces Roth to the most literal kind of confessionalist, a charge his subject strenuously protested; in 1984, he sat for a Paris Review interview largely to dispel the notion that he was a confessional writer.

Over the past couple of years, Ocean’s former Odd Future collaborator, Tyler, the Creator, has transitioned from a bratty provocateur who hurled gay slurs with reckless abandon into a thoughtful confessionalist, one who surprisingly and rather matter-of-factly raps about his own attraction to men.

What’s remarkable is the way that her persona itself obscures this—the way that her aura of authenticity makes people think that she’s a confessionalist when she is working through character and the manipulation of craft.

The mania for physical perfection, the aversion to the reality of aging and death, the belief in a kind of identity politics that hinges on deliberate avoidance of the structural foundations of empire, the prevalence of narcissist/confessionalist expression in all the arts and creative endeavors, the constant self-justification in the form of demonizing various deplorables — all these urges seem to me typical of the irrational, anti-Enlightenment, conspiratorial mindset of what we might call the contemporary alternative left, or alt-left.