So was reading Simone de Beauvoir’s Must We Burn Sade? and it was mostly really interesting biographical context and analysis. It did get increasingly psychoanalytical as it went on though, until it reached the pièce de résistance:
Man you could just say anything back in the day huh.
(Note to self: be more critical in engaging with biographies and historical accounts to make sure they’re not doing psychiatric tarot-readings)
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