Feb 142013



It is a common complaint levied against memoirists that we are self-absorbed: we always appear to be talking about ourselves (See?). We get called narcissists, and we’re called out for imagining others will be interested in our lives, in us.  Actually, it’s almost exclusively women who bear the brunt of the accusation, as if it’s still somehow “unladylike” to draw attention to oneself, just as it might be “unladylike” to sit with knees apart.


(Read the entire article here.)

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