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To ask the various cranks, lechers, layabouts and scoundrels in her small Massachusetts hometown, she’s barely interesting enough to warrant the question.

Cline’s acclaimed first novel, “The Girls,” is a loose retelling of the Manson murders centered on the young women who get swept up in the treacherous orbit of a charismatic lecher.

The lecher, being precisely the type of guy who would have lost a hand if he'd pulled anything with her, is left in the burning wreck and never spoken of again.

Now provided with a substantial back story — he’s Mexican American, justifying a detour to a south-of-the-border cantina — he’s less of a lecher than a case study in laissez-faire sexuality.

The song's lyrics, in fact, imply women are irresistible sirens, and men are uncontrollable lechers, argue some critics.