Subject: RE: father, dear father, come home with me now ....
From: Jennifer Besiada (jbesiada@nettel.com)
Date: Tue Sep 05 2000 - 15:08:45 GMT
True, I have yet to get to the heart of Margaret's fleshy text, I am certain
(currently on chapter 3). However, at the moment, I am less concerned with
how *well-written* and *reflective* she comes off, but rather the simple
fact of *right* and *wrong*. All revelations aside, I would willingly
sacrifice all the insight Margaret has to offer just to allow JD to remain
*intact* in my mind. Will, I know you are reading for content, and your
recent opinions are reassuring; yet, I have to remain screaming and stomping
my feet at the memoir's mere existence.
I tend to enjoy fiction for its mystery -- its allowance for individual
interpretation and slight glimpse into the author's mind and history. I
appreciate and welcome the vagueness. I love wondering if Corrine and/or
Raymond Ford were modeled by JD's own behaviors at some point in time. I
love wondering. I do not want to know. There is no Santa? Same.
Perhaps you are all shouting back at me in unison: *To heck with you! Then
don't read the book!* It is a struggle, for sure, and I am certain many of
you are in the same position: to read or not to read. The temptation is
there, but I just deathly afraid of what I may read. Should I be
frightened?
*The surest way to rid temptation is to yield to it.* -- Oscar Wilde.
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