Now this is how to stand up for your beloved. (Not to mention how to handle a snooty review.)
I can't let pass the tag-end of a sentence in the final graf of the Lucking Out notice in The New York Times Book Review (or as I charmingly call it, "that small-pox rag") which goes: "...the author of this book went on to write for Harper's Magazine and The New Yorker, in addition to Vanity Fair, and wound up marrying a dance critic."
That dance critic has a name, her name is Laura Jacobs, and she is not "a dance critic," she is the dance critic for The New Criterion, the best dance critic in the country, as well as a fashion writer, the former editor of Stagebill, a longtime contributor to Vanity Fair (the author of the cover story on Grace Kelly, among other features), and a novelist of two exquisitely rendered, emotionally depth-charged works, Women About Town and The Bird Catcher, of which the Times Book Review took zero notice, being too busy preparing Joan Didion's reliquary and fawning over the latest literary genius farted aloft from the borough of Brooklyn.
Laura Jacobs is, in brief, an accomplished writer and figure herself, not some negligible nothing attached to my personal narrative of service to the Times reviewer solely for the purpose of making some petty, dubious, sexistly reductive point.
For the record, here's the snooty review to which he is so brilliantly responding.
(Photo: Scott Abelman/Flickr)