when I was a girl and was interested in educating myself a little more about things like what men like to do with women —I remember I got the best information from this one unlikely book. it is significant but perhaps funny as an anecdote about me.
I came about it from a girl in my class at the American School of The Hague. French class, she slipped it to me right under Ms Bartoff’s pointed wicked nose —ironically ….
and so that summer was what followed this book. should I say the title? no, I don’t think so, it’s just too….it’s a romance novel you see ….so anyway it was called Sweet Savage Love —I seemed caught most on the savage word and that was just the start of my awakening
but no, anyway — I adored this writer’s style and I was 13 and to be honest, one of the best in the genre as she uses four syllable words. Despite the trash reputation it was the gateway to Anaïs Nin, of course, and I should mention Colette as she figured prominently too; later more for the poet sense there was Vita and her Orlando and the mysteries of the Bloomsbury Set; to be among them ….and my highly imaginative neurotic-a mind ….
I only thought this just now because it was for one silly, dumb sentimental reason. The author dedicated the novel to C.E.
I was 13. For years I imagined this mysterious man who was C.E. convinced it really was the protagonist and I just wanted him to be real. To her. I guess.
Lit nerdy girls are weird ….of course I found out who it was. And there was a story there actually. Just not as good as mine, sadly.
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