[Sorry for the late posting, all. There was some family health drama this past week that slowed me down.]

A feminist in the generation that followed Miller, how could I not fall deeply into this book? An English major in the 1980s; taking tentative, widely-ridiculed Women’s Studies classes on a recently “co-ed” campus; an experienced friend (my childhood besties are still my besties) but having to learn how to navigate friendship around the new obstacles of romances. We read Kristeva, took classes with Marianne Hirsch, flirted with/had affairs with young male professors. “Quotation turned into performance,” though we didn’t know it. Also history repeats itself…

I also respect that she named names – M. Riffaterre!

What I loved about this book, apart from the recognition, was how Miller writes the magnificence of friendships (like her, I’d also say “women’s friendships,” but I’m going to guess that there would be pushback against that idea now), regardless of how they ended. Despite memory lapses, ethical questions, and “bad” endings, she captures so much of the beauty of love: celebration of the beloved, passion, vulnerability, forgiveness. She was able to remember! What a gift!

I was also grateful to read about friendship and sudden loss/grief as I try to figure out if/what I might write.