“You write like an open wound,” said my friend, and I said: thank you. Then I wrote about what it was like to fall in love again. I wrote about what it was like to be not-widowed in your twenties. You have read the story behind the story. You have read the introductions, and the essays, and the memoirs. It’s sort of like: if you know enough to know that Ephron’s first husband had cats, not hamsters, you know Ephron well enough to call her Nora, and if she wasn’t dead, the two of you would be friends. There is kind of a cachet in doing it, for Ephron fans. You can notice that Ephron uses the same descriptions for herself as for Rachel Samstat, often word for word you can unpick her thin system of pseudonyms you can cross-reference characters.
If you want to, and Kornbluth does, you can bring receipts for this. She is pregnant with their second, and he is having an affair with the long-necked, long-nosed wife of the British ambassador, Thelma Rice. If you are unfamiliar with the rough plot of Heartburn, it goes like this: Rachel Samstat, a famous writer, is married to Mark Feldman, a famous journalist. As in: if a woman turns her pain into money, is it art?Īs in: the art of the novel means it’s not a novel if it happened, and we all know that the things in Heartburn happened, so it’s not a novel.
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