One of the strangest parts of the Globe and Mail’s epic-length protrayal of Ignatieff was the description of his first sexual experience:
Girls found him sweet and solicitous, with a pixie-ish sense of humour. In his final years, he had an adoring girlfriend at Bishop Strachan, the nearby private school for girls. (His sexual initiation took place at a campground north of Toronto; he remembers the gravel against his knees and elbows was excruciating.)
How on earth is this relevant to understanding Ignatieff? Personally, I have no interest in learning about the past sexual escapades of our political leaders assuming they don’t involve prostitutes or children. Certainly not the details of their sexual awkwardness (what no description of the first time he accidentally supported himself on some poor girls hair?) and development.
There’s also this strange paragraph a just above:
He also revelled in being caned for a pillow fight, “a wild and joyful midnight explosion of feathers, the only true uprising I have ever taken part in. After such an uprising, the punishment — 12 stripes with a bamboo cane — was an honour.”
Thinking about Ignatieff revelling in the pain of a caning brought to mind some borderline pornographic mental images that I’d rather not have had.
Article: Being Michael Ignatieff
