The Kiss of Death

I'm perplexed as to why those who attempt to employ the art of literary criticism must indulge in such vitriolic nastiness. It is as if the critic, Ms. Baker, considers writing that does not cater to her idiosyncratic taste to be a crime commensurate with the worst capital offenses or unforgivable cardinal sins. She is metaphorically running down the street screaming, "Kill the author!" And ascribing motives to a writer that are pulled straight out of one's *** and then peddling it as more than a guess takes little skill. It is the critics' easy refuge.

I'm perplexed as to why those who attempt to employ the art of literary criticism must indulge in such vitriolic nastiness. It is as if the critic, Ms. Baker, considers writing that does not cater to her idiosyncratic taste to be a crime commensurate with the worst capital offenses or unforgivable cardinal sins. She is metaphorically running down the street screaming, "Kill the author!" And ascribing motives to a writer that are pulled straight out of one's *** and then peddling it as more than a guess takes little skill. It is the critics' easy refuge.

Rackstraw's book does not claim to be a biography. It is a memoir, and a very interesting one. The book is not about "shacking up" or 15 minutes of fame or anything the least bit lurid or snark-worthy. Rackstraw knows things about Vonnegut that no one else knows; what a gift to Vonnegut scholarship that she has shared her experiences and understandings! Listen, people. Rackstraw's house is chock-a-block with Vonnegut art and mementoes that he sent her over several decades. Theirs was not a one-night stand that Rackstraw is now exploiting for personal gain, and this book is not a tell-all tabloid piece. The reason she doesn't go into details on the sexual relationship we assume they had is that it really isn't important to the story. These two did not build a life together as partners; but they obviously loved each other deeply and enriched each other's lives. The nastiness and ignorance of this review suggests that perhaps it is Ms. Baker who has the hidden agenda....

Those who can, do. Those who can't, critique. A critic calling a writer "parasitic"? Isn't that a bit like a flu virus calling a pig an opportunist? Ms. Baker reminds me of a tel-evangelist compulsively masturbating to hardcore porn thereby inspiring his (in this case, her) venomous Sunday pulpit rants on sleeze and indecency. Talk about a cliche'. In her review, Ms. Baker indulges in far worse behavior than anything I found in this book, literary references and all (she named at least six famous people...what a wannabe!) And Katie, if in fact you actually read the book, maybe it would have occured to you why Rackstraw waited so long to write this...something called "discretion" or "good taste". Perhaps indeed Rackstraw's book should carry the label. "For Adults Only". Afterall, it's dignified, understated, genuine, and anything but exploitative. Damn. I hate when that happens.

A knockout read which rises to the level of soap without having to endure the pesky commercials. Musical sleeping bags.

I agree that its pretty impudent for mistresses to try and spring board off of the fame of their lovers. Having sex with someone who is accomplished (and married no less) doesn't automatically qualify you for your fifteen minutes. These kind of women (including Barbara Walters) really revolt me. These books are not about art or presenting philosophy they are about trying to romanticise something that seems simply borish. This isn't a life accomplishment it just shows a sad lack there of and women that come to realize their own mortality want to hang on to their superficial glory days. Please.

WOW! Are we a little bitter, Ms. Burke?
Either she's jealous that she hasn't gotten a book deal (or is it a lover???) or she simply despises women. This was supposed to be a book review? Next time try reviewing the author's writing and maybe you won't come off sounding like some catty schoolgirl.

Simone de Beauvoir stands on her own. "The Second Sex" is a work of genius. To minimize her as a protege of Sarte is just insulting.

What is Ms. Baker's point? That a lifelong friendship doesn't turn her on?