I was given at birth one of the greatest gifts a writer could ask for: Being born into a family in which no one reads for pleasure.
I’m exaggerating a bit. There was one book that was passed from family member to family member and that everyone—aunts, grandmother, both my parents—eventually read. Naturally, that was Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann, a book considered scandalous in the late 1960s but that now comes across as so tame (and wordy) I’m not even aware of efforts to have it banned.
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