Certainly promoted me to pull my copy of SLIPSTREAM off the shelf and marvel again at how a woman who was so intelligent and emotionally acute - and wrote accordingly - could have such flawlessly ghastly taste in men. Let alone write about it without a breath of self-pity or excuse making.
I think what makes SLIPSTREAM such a great memoir is the same quality that distinguishes Elizabeth Jane Howard's novels (and played no small part in them being so under-rated): When she sat down at her typewriter, I don't think she was capable of striking a sentimental pose. Her gimlet eye...
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