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Caitlin Flanagan is more to be pitied than censured, in my book. Yes, she has money, a nanny, a great writing pedigree, enviable book and article contracts, and, no doubt, a killer agent. I don't bother reading anything under her bylines anymore, because her smug snarkiness is so self-aggrandizing and mean-spirited, but back when I did get sucked in by her admittedly fine writing she struck me as the poster child for brainy, compassionless female narcissism. Her self-loathing and inward emotional turmoil roil and churn below the glassy surface and the breezy lines. If she is, as I suspect, a complete narcissist, then that means she was raised by narcissists, is incapable of genuine, unconditional give-and-take love and connection, can only operate in a tight circle of others like her, and is likely be feared and despised by her children, in turn. Nothing I've ever read by her leads me to think she's ever felt relaxed, fulfilled, or deeply loved. And even her cancer cure -- I'm sure she had the best doctors and the finest care -- leads her to more judging, rationalization, and self-delusion. So if she pisses you off, view her instead as a cautionary example....the kind of person you don't want to be. The kind of person who will get shriller with time and will always have admirers, but who will keep missing the boat when it comes to love and compassion. How sad to have so many blessings and connections but so little heart.
