Solanas writes the male as a parasitic entity, existing in a hopeless desire to be A Woman. 

Reading the manifesto alone is almost a laugh; everything is so vitriolic and intense in its hatred and language, it's hard to tell whether or not to take her seriously. Taking it seriously is uncomfortable, which results in incredulous, surprised laughter. Solanas particularly started losing me in the second half, when she started talking about a utopia, medical miracles, and murder. 

What makes this edition so good is the forward written by Avital Ronell. Her observations, analyses, and contexts are fascinating. The relation to philosophers and academics of Solanas' writing that provide a basis for her thoughts (Freud, Derrida, Butler, Goethe, Marx, Deleuze) provided a springboard that made the manifesto itself much more engaging. Going into the book, I knew that Solanas shot Andy Warhol, and was institutionalized. I was expecting the ramblings of an insane woman. But, that is part of the problem - she was, in fact, an academic, however radical. Solanas' manifesto is based on a feminist (debated) version of philosophers and scholars that provide a basis for her thoughts (Freud, Derrida, Butler, Goethe, Marx, Deleuze), and Ronell provides a springboard that made the manifesto itself much more engaging and thought-provoking. 

I don't agree with Solanas' blunt and brutal estimations of men. However, I do see the reasons and context for it; I do find the philosophical background fascinating, and the deliberate words interesting. The bold, blunt language is kind of admirable. Underlying it all, I couldn't help but read a kind of desperate, grasping love for women; a desire for them to rise up against the suppression and the abuse and the pain; a plea to stop Accepting and Allowing it to happen. I couldn't help but think of all the reasons she might have, the experiences she must be drawing on, to result in this rage. 

From Ronell's introduction: 
"Before one becomes overly confident about arresting her outrageous development in terms of psychotic aberration, it is important to note that psychosis speaks, that it often catches fire from a spark in the real; it is fuelled and fanned and remains unsettling because, as wounded utterance, it is not merely or solely demented. I am not persuaded that we have before us only a psychotic text. But it does rise out of the steady pscyhoticization of women, a threat under which most of us live and against whose coarse endurance we contribute enormous amounts of energy" (17).