Now, our devils eat beating hearts, and our love interests have well-defined cheekbones.
Bambi? Erotica? “The local priest”? I was beside myself at what I only assumed was my great fortune.
Unlike many of the other reviewers, I have no nostalgic context in which to place my reading of the book. I did not approach it when I was young and hungry for the world, or despondent in Paris, desirous of liberation from the predictably plot-driven books of my past…
“Watch out,” the group therapist had said, “she’s watching a lot of Bergman.”
John Gregory Dunne was always the less successful of the pair. The last and most famous role he played was as negative space in his widow’s memoir. For us, he was never there—but then his absence was of immediate emotional enormity. He was a being whose most incentivizing move was to step off camera.