This is August Baker. Today I have the great privilege to be
speaking with Professor Alice Jardine. Alice is a professor at
Harvard University. She's worked in the forefront of critical
thought since the '80s, wide ranging work. Prominent are issues of
women, gender, and sexuality, and the analysis of politics,
culture, and society. Today we're speaking with Professor Jardine
about her recent book, which is the first biography of another
public intellectual, specifically the inimitable Julia Kristeva.
The book is called At the Risk of Thinking: An Intellectual
Biography of Julia Kristeva. One of the endorsements for the book
was by Noel McCaffey, and I thought it captured Alice's book very
McCaffey said, "With a light and magical touch, Alice Jardine
narrates the story of Julia Kristeva's journey from the Black Sea
to the Atlantic, to the expanse of human singularity. In her
intimate account Jardine shows how Kristeva became one of the most
extraordinary intellectuals of our era. For every reader, here is a
story that will inspire us all to think more deeply, to revolt
against preconceptions, and to become our own force in creating the
meaning of our lives." That's the end of the quote. I thought that
was beautifully said and very true, was an inspiring book for me to
read. The book has been very well-received, including winning 2021
Choice Outstanding Academic Title. Welcome, Alice.
Hello, August. Thank you for inviting me. I'm thrilled to be
We are speaking on March 29th, 2022, and about a month ago,
Russia invaded Ukraine. One of the things you say in your book is
that the stories dominating Kristeva's earliest memories of her
childhood were shaped by two devastating totalitarian
Yes, indeed. So perhaps for your listeners, I'll clarify that
the book is divided into three parts. The first part covers the
years from Kristeva's birth in 1941 in Sliven, Bulgaria until 1965,
and Kristeva's departure for Paris. The second part is her
adventures in Paris, and the third part is a sort of overview of
her life and work over the last few decades since the 1980s. That
first part was absolutely the most challenging part to write, in
part because of my own ignorance about Eastern Europe, and
certainly about the history of Bulgaria, but also because I was
writing it during the Trump administration and the echoes and
reverberations and strange complexities of listening both to that
historical moment of Kristeva's childhood in Bulgaria and what was
happening in the United States. It also brought up a lot of
Kristeva's concepts and vocabulary.
She writes about radical evil. She writes about the death
drive, et cetera, which maybe we'll have time to get to, which of
course makes today, talking about this book with you and her
childhood today, even more intense. What I meant by the statement
about her memories and these invasions, of course, is referring to
the fact that Bulgaria was neutral, tried to be neutral, before the
Second World War, but entered as a member of the Axis powers. It
came into the war with the Nazis, but also took a lot of distance
from the Nazi regime, and for example, refused, or tried to refuse,
to round up Jewish people and would not comply with various demands
of the Nazi regime. Then by the summer of 1944, the Soviets were
coming in through Romania, and Bulgaria got in trouble with the
Soviets who then declared war on Bulgaria and invaded in September
And Kristeva, of course, was a young child in Sliven,
Bulgaria, and as she recalls those years, early years of her
childhood, she evokes, for example, going down to the basement of
her parents' home and listening to Radio London, and she gets quite
excited when she talks about that. It's a very vivid memory in her
mind because they had to be very quiet. Meanwhile, they were
watching through the windows at the upper wall of the basement, and
as she puts it, "First there were Nazi boots and then there were
Soviet boots." The other things that she tends to talk about, which
I try to talk about in the book, tends to be at the level of affect
She talks about fear, she talks about hearing rumors of
horrible things and running through the streets to get home. She
talks about a sense of regulation, always having what she needed,
but not what she wanted. She tells stories about going to her
friend's house and her friend's mother giving her friend one
teaspoon of water at a time and no more. She talks about
disappointment. She talks about especially her father's enormous
disappointment that he's trying to raise his daughters in this
place that he calls "the intestines of hell." And he-
He wanted to become a priest originally. Is that right?
He did. He was a very devout orthodox Christian who had
studied theology and wanted to continue in his efforts to be a
theologian, and of course couldn't. Toyed with the idea of becoming
a doctor and that was not a good idea. Because he wanted his
daughters to be educated in Sofia, he became part of essentially
the sort of Sovietized ministry of religion. But he wrote a lot, he
wrote lot of essays sort of in secret and continued to believe for
a very long time, even though they had to be very careful not to
let the authorities see them sneaking off to communion early, at
One of the things you say is, "All my childhood was bathed in
this, the smell of the incense, the profusion of flowers on the
Yes, and she has talked quite a lot about the fact that
Bulgaria itself is so full of contradiction and so full of... It's
where Christianity and Islam and Judaism all met, and then there
were the Turks and there were the Nazis and there were the Soviets.
She really sees herself as having taken in history and sort of
become a product of history. Then she always pauses and says, "But
what really stuck was those memories of in the early morning, in
the monastery or in the church with my father. It was the music, it
was the art, it was the music, it was the smell of the
Eventually those sensations, those affects I think, became for
her a symbol, maybe not quite the right word, but certainly a
avocation of that which escapes the kind of rationality of Soviet
identity in that case. But even later for her, I think it evokes
what she will later in her work call the semiotic, that which is
not part of meaning and logic and rationality. She's always been
more drawn, I think, to that sort of mystical magic than to logic
I'm just kind of free associating here, but one of the things
I was really interested... She resisted her father's religiosity
for a long time, and one of the stories you tell in the book is
about ultimately her representing atheism at that conference with
the Pope. Could you tell our listeners about that?
Yes. She had given a huge lecture, public lecture, in Italy on
her book on Teresa. There were some representatives from the
Vatican at that lecture, and they were very taken with her. She is
very clear that she's an atheist. I mean, she may have these
mystical memories, but she is a bonafide atheist. Slowly but
surely, she began to receive invites to appear at this event in...
I believe it was October of 2011. It was an event organized by Pope
Benedict XVI, where a representative from the majority of the
world's religions were going to gather in order to discuss the
future of the church, and for the first time in history, they
invited an atheist. So I include in the book this photograph that I
still find quite astonishing. All of these men lined up in a row,
in every possible outfit-
Yes. Costume or religious outfit. Yeah.
Yes, and Kristeva at the very end standing there very
modestly, and she spoke last, actually. They all spoke, and she
spoke last. Pope Benedict actually was very moved by what she had
to say, and he afterwards made the remarks, looking at all of these
representatives, he said, "You know, no one owns the truth."
Right. Outstanding. That was quite a story. If we go back to
her early childhood, it's interesting. She says there were two
stories she wanted the readers to know, and at one point you
address the reader and say, "There are also two stories about
Kristeva's childhood that I want you to know." I guess that's four
stories total. Could you give us one or two of those stories,
whichever appeals to you at the moment?
Of course. Well, I'll be self-involved and tell you what I
think your listeners might want to know if they've read any
Kristeva or know of her and her work. Because I didn't know these
stories until like 2011 or '12, and it made so much sense to me.
Briefly, one of them was that she hated when she was a young girl,
she hated girl stuff. She was given a doll house and she loathed
it. She wanted to destroy it. She hated the little dolls in the
doll house. She would evidently just stomp around screaming that
she didn't want to do all of that. She didn't want to wash the
dishes and dress the dolls, et cetera, and that said a lot. She
talks about her books and those were the precious items locked away
in the cupboard.
The other story she told me also made a lot of sense to me. It
was new to me when she told me that she almost never cried as a
child, almost never. And she would do things like, and she was very
famous for it when she was quite young, she and her mother would be
walking in the park and Kristeva would just take off running and
she would run and run and run as fast as she could until she'd fall
down, and she'd stand up and she'd have scratches and blood and it
would be a mess. Her mother would come running, "What have you
done?" And she would say, Kristeva would say, she'd touch her
mother's face very gently and say, "Oh mama, don't worry. I'll take
care of you." And that's the story [inaudible 00:13:27].
That was such a great story. Yeah.
That said a lot.
It certainly did. I love that. She started out as a
journalist, and it's difficult for us to imagine what it must have
been like to be a... I mean, for her high school newspaper. It's
difficult for us to imagine what it would've been like to be a
journalist in a communist country. She wrote some things that put
her family at some risk, even when she was... I guess when she was
There are a couple of things to say about that period that,
again, I don't think very many anglophone readers know a lot about.
When she began writing as a journalist, quite young, in her teens,
actually mainly for money, for extra money, and eventually became
quite well-known because of her ability to write in a very
palimpsestic or kind of camouflaged kind of way. She seemed to have
the ability to write a sort of surface level story that would
adhere to what the authorities and censors wanted. But she could
wind through it the stories that she actually wanted to tell, and
she was very good at it. Just before she left Paris, actually,
well, 1962, she was 21 years old, and there was a dissident
journalist named Albert Cohen who had written a book and no
Roads and Stops.
Roads and Stops, and no one wanted to review it because it was
very much written in... It was the Khrushchev era. It was very much
written in the spirit of the thaw as they called it, in other
words, a kind of renewed openness to the Western world and a lot of
literary exploration. No one wanted to review it, except of course
our young Kristeva who perhaps naively wrote this absolutely
sparkling review of the book. The next day on the front page of the
communist newspaper, there was a headline that said, "Julia
Kristeva, cosmopolitan agent of the capitalist hyena." She was
called a spy. She was called a Zionist, which was of course an
insult, and they were terrified. Her father, who was probably the
most aware of the dangers of this kind of thing, took her to a
monastery and they sort of hid out because he was afraid they were
going to be sent away to a camp.
Then to make everything worse, Radio Free Europe did a whole
session on how brilliant she was. Nothing happened to them, and I
suggest that this may have been because she was not particularly
political in the public sphere except for this camouflaged writing,
and she was becoming quite well-known as a translator. For example,
she took the cosmonauts around. Yeah, so this time period when she
was writing is really, really important to understand, I think. She
even wrote a book that nobody knows about, which I'm trying to get
translated. 1964, she published a book called Characteristic Trends
in 20th Century Western Literature. The more I looked at this time
period when she was with all of these dissident journalists and
dissident intellectuals, including her sweetheart, Tzvetan
Stoyanov, that's really when she began to become Julia Kristeva, in
an odd kind of way.
I mean, this writing, which Stoyanov actually called a
theoretical hurricane. He said, "Julia, you write these theoretical
hurricanes." What she was trying to do was camouflage what she was
actually writing, which was already a kind of window on the Western
world, and in some ways, almost a preview of some of her earliest
works in French, which many readers in French, in English and many
other languages find very, very hard to read. Very hard, and I
think it's from that time.
She eventually gets out of Bulgaria and goes to France, which
easily could not have happened. It's kind of a miracle that did
happen. December 15th, 1965, she gets on a plane to Paris with
$5.00. It's easy to romanticize that, but I think what I found from
your book was that it was extremely difficult to leave her home and
her family and go and learn to think in a new language. It wasn't
this heady, intellectual time when she first got to Paris.
No, that's right. This was another discovery for me because I
think I had sort of bought into that myth of, "Oh, Kristeva, she
went off to Paris and became immediately part of the scene there."
Well, no, not exactly. She desperately missed her intellectual
community in Sofia. In fact, in the book I explained that I think
part of her ability to find Roland Barthes and all of these other
extraordinary intellectuals of the time was her effort to recreate
that sense of being the center of the world and being able to
really think out loud with like-minded friends. But as she was
looking for these friends, she was quite depressed. She missed her
community, she missed her boyfriend, Tzvetan. She missed her
parents dreadfully. As you said, she was trying to learn to write
in French and felt like her Bulgarian self was dying. She couldn't
quite figure out how to do that. It took quite a long time.
But eventually, because of this sort of parade of amazing
mentors, she was able to find a community in Paris and eventually
find her way and publish, and the rest is literature. She just
never stopped., and met her husband to be and got married in 1967.
She did manage to do it, but it wasn't easy. It was hard. A couple
of times she got very sick. In fact, it was one of the reasons she
and Philippe Sollers got married was she was really, really sick
and had been working so hard. Don't forget, she thought she had to
go back to Bulgaria. She thought she was only there for a year, and
so she was just trying to... She was like a sponge. She was just
going to everything and doing everything. She got really sick.
Because she was from a communist country, they wouldn't give her a
hospital room, and lots of stories about that. Then eventually she
and Sollers got married and she was able to get the medical care
she needed and become more integrated into French culture, which
she did, more or less.
One of the funny things you said in the book, "It is actually
hard for me to think of Julia Kristeva as anyone's wife, especially
[inaudible 00:21:12] that one. My editors didn't catch that.
Yeah, I talk a lot in the book. I mean, I write quite extensively
about that relationship, which I've come to accept, and I've come
to understand better than I used to. He is such a character and he
is such a brilliant writer, but-
I don't think that our listeners probably know about Dominique
Rolin [inaudible 00:21:40]-
No, they probably don't. Yeah, so the short version is that
when Kristeva met her future husband, Philippe Sollers, he was
already very involved with a Belgian writer, a very well-known
Belgian writer, named Dominique Rolin, and who was much older than
Sollers. I forget, I think she was 45. He was 20-something. Anyway,
long story short, he, Sollers, made it very clear to Kristeva that
this was a lifetime relationship. In fact, it was. She passed away,
Dominique Rolin passed away, I think it was 2012, off the top of my
head, and they were quite loyal to each other. And Kristeva never,
ever experienced any jealousy in her telling. And of course, the
reason she gives is that her father loved her so much, so much,
that it didn't bother her. Rolin was very good for Sollers'
writing, which was the most important thing to him. "And so why
not? Why be jealous?" she said to me.
Right. You say, quoting her, "I was never jealous of my
mother, convinced as I was that my father preferred me to her and
to everyone else for that matter. It's my symptom to believe it,
certainly, unless it's my strength."
Yeah, that relationship between Kristeva and her father, I'm
sure there's much more to write about. It was absolutely
He told her to "stand upright."
"Stand up straight, and even kneel with a very straight back
in a corner."
Yes. She was supposed to be the older sister. She has the
younger sister, very talented musician. Kristeva was supposed to be
the... She was supposed to be grownup and she was supposed to
control her temper and behave. I keep saying that's why she has so
much spine, she's so determined and so strong. I think that early
relationship with her father was part of that. Her mother too,
though. We didn't say very much about her mother, who was a very
brilliant scientist, mathematician, with a creative side. She was
also an illustrator. But she was really the exact opposite of
Kristeva' father, the sort of rational mathematician who helped
Kristeva with her schoolwork. [inaudible 00:24:39].
Right, right, right. So she becomes a journalist, essayist,
academic, a professor, public intellectual. Then at a certain
point, she decides to go into psychoanalysis and eventually become
a psychoanalyst. You say at one point, "To read, to listen, to
think was not enough. She needed to feel implicated."
Can you tell us about the decision to go into psychoanalysis
and also maybe something about her analyst?
Yes. I think that that desire to be implicated, to remain
implicated is, I would almost say, characterological of Kristeva.
It reminds me of when I was a young student in New York and she was
writing an essay on the avant garde, the American avant garde, and
she pulled me in her office and said, "Okay, we have to go and see
five avant garde productions of some kind in New York." I was like
22, I don't know, I was like, "Okay." Because she wanted to
experience it firsthand. I would say that because she had been to
Lacan's seminars in Paris, and because she was beginning to
circulate in the Tel Quel Group, and not only with Sollers, her
husband, but with other members of Tel Quel, many of whom were
deeply involved with psychoanalytic theory. Because of her passion
for language and her belief that we are all not just implicated,
but actually constructed by language, she wanted to go on the
couch. She wanted to speak her implication in all of these ideas
that she was writing about academically, theoretically.
She asked a few friends, it's a long story, but eventually she
was sort of moved towards Ilse Barant, a German analyst who has a
long and an interesting story herself, as a Jewish woman, with a
very sad, long story in occupied France. But Kristeva, who at that
point was deeply immersed in Melanie Klein and Winnicott and
others, discovered in Barant an intelligence that both reassured
her about her sense of language, the magic of language, and the
existential importance of artistic and literary consciousness. So
she found someone who shared her, I guess, for lack of a better
word, I'll say epistemology, but shared what she cared about, but
also someone who challenged her at every turn and who did not... I
think I tell the story about going and interviewing and seeing if
it was a right fit, and Kristeva talking about how her relationship
with her mother was like a ball bouncing on the floor that she just
touched her mother, but never actually got to-
Stayed a bit, never stayed a bit.
Yeah, and balance it. "Okay, you start now." It was clear.
Yeah, I mean, for me, what was fascinating about that story, to go
into analysis, but she had no idea she would become an analyst when
she started. But the analysis led her to three things that where
anglophone readers are essential. It led her to feminism because
she decided that she needed to go to China because she needed to
feel implicated if she was going to write about ideograms, et
cetera. So she was going to go to China, which is a whole story I
tell, which there were some funny bits. She is going to go to
China, and then she's going to write a book on Chinese women for
this notorious publishing firm, des Femmes. Through that essay and
through that book, and through that experience, she became a
feminist in the eyes of American readers, she decided that she
would become an analyst. This was quite far along in the process.
She's, "I think this is for me." Third, she decided to become a
mother. Those were the three huge, huge decisions that had
reverberating consequences that came out of that decision.
You mentioned becoming a mother. Tell us about, our readers,
another thing that I didn't know about her son. Is it David or-
David is a miracle. David is extraordinary, an extraordinary
human being for whom I have enormous affection. I tell the story of
Kristeva's pregnancy, which was quite unexceptional, and then David
was born and adored. Then they began to see that something wasn't
quite right. It turned out, long story short, that David had what
they call an orphan disease, but a neurological disorder that led
to a series of physical disabilities. But David never lost an ounce
or even less, whatever, less than an ounce is, of his intelligence
and memory. He has a photographic memory, and is very witty and
smart. And [inaudible 00:30:37]-
You can imagine that what Stoyan gave to Kristeva, she passed
on to David.
Yeah. Yeah. David is very special. He's now an adult man who
writes and who thinks and who plays, and he's a remarkable human
being. But I think for Kristeva, as soon as she realized that she
had a disabled child, she had to find a way to continue as an
analyst, continue as a writer, continue as a professor, continue as
a wife, continue as a world traveler, and continue as the mother of
a disabled son, which-
Which is inspiring, yeah.
... she has done brilliantly.
Yes. But one point, I think you refer to the marches that she
would listen to in Bulgaria, kind of march on-
Yes. That was a discovery. She has gone back to Bulgaria a
couple of times to make films. I was of course watching all of
these films. In one of them, I'd have to look up the title of it,
but it shows her, she joined during the alphabet ceremony that she
had participated in as a child, which basically is a celebration of
the monks who invented the Slavic alphabet. Once a year, children
all over Bulgaria put on a letter that they parade around in. It's
a celebration of the alphabet. Anyway-
In no other country is there a celebration of the alphabet,
that I know of. That's interesting. Fascinating.
I've learned that there are kind mini-celebrations in other
parts of Eastern Europe, but I haven't able to track down exactly
where. Anyway, one of these films showed her at one of these
alphabet celebrations in May, and she began marching with the
crowd. It was just extraordinary to suddenly see this very elegant
Parisian woman suddenly marching with such vehemence and singing
this Sovietized marching song about writing. It's about writing. It
was extraordinary. All of these parts of her, she's quite a
Yeah. You said that it was on the couch... I'm sorry, feels
like I'm rushing. There's so much to cover. You said that on the
couch that Kristeva found many of her best ideas, and you refer to
Julia's conceptual toolbox. That's a big topic, but could you just
give an overview of that?
Well, yeah, I can say a few short things about that. The most
famous example of that is when she was in analysis with Ilse
Barant. She was saying, "Oh, my mother's here. Oh my God. And
there's the baby, and I'm writing this book on saline, and it's so
abject." Ilse Barant said, "Oh, that's the word you want." And the
notion of objection became one of Kristeva's most famous concepts.
What I call in my courses, especially with my grad students, what I
call her conceptual toolbox, I guess I could summarize very quickly
as first of all, having to do with the question of the
intellectual, and certainly today in 2022, how can you be an
She talks about being contestatory. She talks about putting
reliance and care at the center of one's practice as opposed to
aggression and one-upmanship, et cetera. Secondly, I would say
there's a batch of concepts that have to do with going back to
concepts that have been very important historically in Western
philosophy, and not throwing the baby out with the bath water, as
it were. She wants to reinvent humanism. She wants to rethink
universalism. She wants to get away from talking about identity and
focus on subjectivity very much in the psychoanalytic sense. Then
thirdly, and lastly, I think she really wants intellectuals to
think about vulnerable subjects, all of the kinds of human subjects
who are vulnerable and not-
... and marginalized. Exactly. Especially because she believes
that one of the things that the Western world is suffering from
right now, and not only the Western world, but maybe especially, is
what she calls an ideality disorder, just meaning briefly that
because of the assault of technology on our psyches, we've lost our
capacity for psychic space, and we are losing our idealism. We're
becoming disappointed and distressed about our ideals that we had
believed in, and now we're not so sure. She really sees that as a
serious crisis that needs addressing.
Right. Yeah. One of the things I really liked about your book
is that you go through her... I don't know which section it is, but
you go through... There's so many ideas which one associates with
Kristeva, and what I found really helpful was that if you want to
see her thoughts on the death drive, here's the book, when she
talked about being a mother of a child with a disability, here's
where you look. If you want to look at the need to believe in the
desire to know, here's the book. It's kind of like a large
annotated bibliography, if you will.
Well, thank you for saying that, because that was one of my
Because otherwise you don't know what to buy. There's so much,
and this way you can zero in on what you want to see.
Yeah. I say in the introduction that the Kristeva's
relationship to this biography, it's the first one, there'll be
many more. I had to be very careful. She doesn't want her private
life aired until after her demise. Then I said my relationship to
the book is really about not praising her or putting her on a
pedestal, but really trying to honestly recount her life as I
believe she's lived it. Then my readers' relationship, I wrote it
for interested non-specialist readers, and so what better thing
could I do than point towards various kinds of readings? Because
there's so much. There's so much.
There's so much.
I think at one point, I'm trying to mention 50 books,
something about 50 books that isn't just a throwaway line or
something terribly superficial, to actually say something
meaningful that will make my reader want to go read that book.
Oh, absolutely. You succeed brilliantly at that.
Oh boy, we're running out of time. Can you tell us, what is
Woo. How long do we have?
In 30 seconds. No.
No, go. I'm just kidding. Tell us, what is this?
Okay. The short version is that in the former communist
countries of Eastern Europe, various kinds of archives were set up
that were attempting to identify folks who had been working
secretly with the communist regimes and were agents or spies, if
you like. Those archives in Bulgaria were declassified in 2007 and
lo and behold, slowly it became apparent that Kristeva was named in
those archives and that she had been an agent of the DEAS, of the
horrible secret service. There's a lot to say about this. But in
2018, I remember, March 28th, 2018, I got a phone call that it was
public that she had been named. Of course, she was aghast. She was
horrified and has denied it totally.
When The New York Times called me and asked me what I thought,
I said, almost without thinking, "I believe her. I believe her
completely." And I go through all the reasons why, but I said, "The
most important reason is that if she had been forced in order to
protect her own life or the life of her family to do that, she
would've written about it when the wall came down. She couldn't
have helped herself." The thing that's so sad, and I'll just say
this quickly, I know we're running out of time, but the thing
that's so sad about this whole affair really, ultimately, is that I
mentioned her sweetheart, Tzvetan Stoyanov, back in Bulgaria. In
early 1971, he accepted a challenge to go and try to convince
Georgi Markov, who's probably one of the most famous poisoned
dissidents in history with-
With the umbrella-
With the umbrella tip, right, to convince Markov to come back
to Bulgaria, and he failed. He did not. Her sweetheart did not
convince Markov to come back to Sofia. In mid-June of 1971, when
Tzvetan Stoyanov and Julia Kristeva were the two most famous
intellectuals in Bulgaria, Stoyanov died. He died under very
strange circumstances. One has to be very careful because there's
no proof, but I believe that he was killed by the DEAS. In the
archive that names Kristeva as a spy, they give mid-June 1971 as
the date of her engagement as a spy. What's sad, really sad, is
from that moment on, from mid-June 1971, they surveilled her, and
her husband, and her child, and her family.
We still don't quite know what they did, what they threatened
her parents with back in Bulgaria, and she had no idea. No idea.
It's called blind surveillance. I mean, it was a technical kind of
surveillance. It really devastated her, and it really devastated
her that the Western press jumped on it and didn't question all of
this fake news, all of this dissembling, all of this politicking
from a period that very few Anglophones understand. So-
In her self defense, when she is asked?
She didn't know. She didn't know, and when they bring up like,
"Well, you had tea with Mr. Kostov."
"Yes, I did."
Yeah. "Yeah, he had sent me books from France when I was a
student in Bulgaria. I had no idea he was a spy." Of course, he
left Bulgaria in 1977. He wanted no more of it. But in any case,
she has answers. "Well, what about the time you said, 'Power to the
people, ironically?'" And she said, "Well, this poet, or this
wannabe poet, came to my apartment door." She can talk about each
incident that's brought up. But overall, it's her disappointment
and worry and anger that the press can be so gullible about
these... and it's happened to a lot of people. To a lot of
Right. Unfortunately, we're past our time, Alice. I really
appreciate... There's so much more. I think that the death of her
father. She's had a lot of deaths and a lot of resurrections in her
life, as she says. It's a fascinating story and it makes one want
to read her books and one knows where to look. Thank you so much
for speaking with me.
Thank you, August. It's been a pleasure. Thank you.