Amid the glut of retrospectives on the five-year anniversary of #MeToo, the where-are-they-now rundowns of accused men and movement icons alike, a sense emerges that the #MeToo movement itself has finally transformed from a cause du jour to grist for the cultural mill. What it gives us now isn't news but narratives: the Pulitzer-winning reporting, the bestselling books based on the prize-winning reporting, the movies based on the books. 

The release this month of She Said, a dramatized retelling of how New York Times reporters Megan Twohey and Jodi Kantor exposed Harvey Weinstein for the predator he is, has a celebratory feel to it, a satisfied look back by the movement's documentarians at a job well done. It's also impossible not to notice the film's end-of-year release date, always a sign of a hopeful contender for the Academy Awards.

But there are loose ends still to be tied. And on this front, the remarkable reporting on Junot Diaz published late last month by Ben Smith of Semafor stands out, revealing not just the movement's far-reaching impact but its limitations and unintended consequences. Diaz was never the movement's greatest monster, his cancellation never one of its biggest victories. But the story of what happened to him has a "now it can be told" feeling about it, even as some angry commentators continue to insist it should not, and can never, be told.