Letters to the Editor

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I talked to him on the phone for hours. I even listened to his therapy sessions on tape. And after one particularly weird conversation about his upcoming sex-change operation, I decided he was a fake. So why did I still get sucked in?
  • One attention hog observes another

    What some fail to understand is people are not righteously indignant over this, but monumentally irritated by another example of a circle jerk of vanity by the gatekeepers of culture. This hoax was more annoying than amusing, mostly because it involves cash and social climbing by the usual insiders, who benefit from their complicity, knowing or not.

    If those on the margins - authentic hard luck case authors who aren't as marketable, honest fiction writers who lack a celebrity hook - fume over another story of famewhores and pandering, I won't begrudge them their irritation.

    Priveleged prevericators from punk'd to Bush convey the same message - money and power trump honesty. I can understand folks using this to vent frustration over being jerked around. People are smart enough to accept art as facades and personas and hype, but this adult version of rich kids going "psyche! don't make a big deal about it." gets tiresome.

    It's interesting how those most complicit, those who get free copies of books, are often the first to say, "ah but what is truth, anyway?"

    Ayelet Waldman went from mere author to quasi-celebrity due to a confessional stunt of an online suicide threat, and being married to a famous husband. Of course she's gonna end with "does it really matter?"

    She does a bit of navel gazing about her own credulity, but like most observers, mostly avoids what it says about the business and class dynamics, let alone how it reflects on her own status and behavior.

    By deeming it ultimately meaningless, she makes her essay seem like boasting about being connected to scandalous celebrity culture "We'd hung out together in Rome in the summer of 2002 when both he and Michael..." But when it gets close to more disturbing or uncool notions, tell the plebes art is art and ultimately it doesn't matter. Gee, thanks.