When the NYTimes reviewed Ann Patchett's Truth & Beauty: a Friendship on Thursday, I abandoned Alexander Hamilton in mid-Federalist papers in a boat cabin on the Hudson River. I didn't even bother with Amazon; the Borders on L St. had 34 copies, and instead of heading down 18th St. that afternoon on my run toward the Mall, I tucked $30 in the waistband of my running shorts and headed up to Borders. Then I hid my copy in some Azaleas at the Federal Reserve and picked it up again after my loop around the Mall. This morning the Times & Joyce Carol Oates put the final rivet into the success of this book; Oates said it is 'riveting.' It takes all of 2 hours to read and suffers from the usual problems of the magazine-essay-that's-so-good-it's-turned-into-a-book. (Patchett published an essay about Lucy in New York Magazine not long after Lucy, poor thing, died in December 2002.) Still, it's a very fine book about an unusual and fascinating person. I never met Lucy and had never heard of her (I think) until NPR reported her death, but if I'd read Autobiography of a Face while she was alive I probably would have left to go find her the moment I finished her book. Autobiography never explained why she kept having surgery on her face; I finished it and thought 'forget these stupid surgeries.' Patchett, though, explains: Lucy could eat only with difficulty, which she never mentioned in Autobiography.
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