A review of my book in the New Statesman asked, incredulously: "Does Neil Lyndon really imagine that we are all going to say that we were wrong about feminism and think again?" Something like that had indeed been my hope when I wrote No More Sex War.
How hopelessly naive I must have been to expect that the 1960s and 1970s generation of leftists - of whom I was one - might think again and admit the possibility that they (we) might have been mistaken. The beautiful people of the 1960s, the generation of love and revolution, do not have it in them to admit error about anything at all, least of all feminism. If they were mistaken about feminism, somebody might see that they actually have been wrong about everything.
Feminism was the last remaining conceptual spar from the wreckage of the 1960s to which that generation was clinging. Though we might not admit it, we had achieved nothing to change or stop the progress of the Vietnam war.
The cold war had threatened the extinction of the planet and then come to an end without its leaders showing any susceptibility to the thoughts of our generation. Far from ushering in a new epoch of love, peace and a saintly renunciation of property, my generation had let in Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan and then taken material greed to new heights. Former hippies became billionaires and competed for the most exclusive possessions. Former revolutionaries spent fortunes on cocaine and exercised their free-love philosophies on each other's spouses.
The changes that had incontestably occurred in the position of women were my generation's only claim to have achieved anything lasting in the world. If the assertions of feminism should turn out to be bogus - if it was recognised that women's lives had changed for reasons that had nothing to do with feminism - my generation's most radical and original contributions to the political world would be the penological thoughts of Jack Straw, George W Bush and Ann Widdecombe.
I think that was one of the reasons why, when my book was published, the establishment of beautiful people closed together to annihilate the danger that it might have posed. Their desperation not to allow debate was startlingly naked. "What I hope most of all is that people will not read this book," said a feminist on Start the Week. The feminist QC Helena Kennedy even included my book among her selection of books of the year in a newspaper's Christmas list and urged readers not to buy it.