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I already understood that David would always define the terms of your reality. That’s what he did, that’s who he was. And I also already understood that I could never be a woman who slid into a man’s premade life and claimed it as her own. I had a world. I had a job. It had taken a lot of work to a…

There were plenty of things I couldn’t handle about my job, but they weren’t the ones David was thinking about then. The main thing: I’d believed that if I got this job, or even if I got any sort of power, that I wouldn’t be scared anymore. I had been hoping that power was the way to undo fear. But…

I remarked to him that I wanted to find someone to review books for Esquire; I would suggest that writer to the boss and hope for the best. It was damn hard to get too excited about most book reviewers, or reviews—so many were cribbed from press releases or plagiarized from other reviews. I had a d…

Mailer’s talk, a stop in the publicity campaign for his latest novel, The Gospel According to the Son, was at a school on the Upper East Side. The typical Mailer loyalist out in the audience looked as if he’d died about ten years before. The novel: the “autobiography” of Jesus. Mailer as God. The j…

What else was I doing with my life? Not enough. There were more readings; there were movie screenings (the best: Sergei Eisenstein’s restored Alexander Nevsky, with a new recording of the Prokofiev score; the prescreening party, with its mounds of caviar and fountains of vodka, has now in memory ex…