At Home in the World is the story of a young woman, raised in some difficult circumstances, and how she survives. It tells a story of redemption, not victimhood.
The vehemence with which certain critics have chosen not simply to criticize what I've written, but to challenge my writing this story at all, speaks of what the book is about: fear of disapproval.
It troubles me that people speak about writing for money as ugly and distasteful.
The big dramas that fascinate me are the quiet ones that happen behind closed doors in so-called ordinary families.
I believe every one of us possesses a fundamental right to tell our own story.
The portrait of my parents is a complicated one, but lovingly drawn.
I think of myself as a realistic writer, not a creator of soap opera or melodrama.
For 25 years, I did take my responsibilities as a pleaser of others sufficiently seriously.
Although Salinger had long since cut me out of his life completely and made it plain that he had nothing but contempt for me, the thought of becoming the object of his wrath was more than I felt ready to take on.
Long after Salinger sent me away, I continued to believe his standards and expectations were the best ones.
Not only did I avoid speaking of Salinger; I resisted thinking about him. I did not reread his letters to me. The experience had been too painful.
Some literary types subscribe to the notion that being a writer like Salinger entitles a person to remain free of the standards that might apply to mere mortals.
I was giving a speech one time, and the woman who introduced me said, 'Well, she used to be J. D. Salinger's girlfriend. I thought, 'God, is that all I've been?' I didn't want to be reduced to that.
If I told you about all the stories I don't tell, I would be violating the very boundaries I set for myself.
Women writers have been told, forever, that our stories were not valuable. Not as valuable as men's stories about wars, business, power.
