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“No one is more interested in famous people than other famous people,” toots Carly Simon in a new memoir.
It is a passing sentiment, rising up from her pages, but one that acts, inadvertently or not, as much of a thesis statement we are ever gonna get out of “Touched by the Sun: My Friendship with Jackie.” And we have a winner, people! My vote for the strangest, why-was-this-written?, end-of-decade memoir via a boldface name. And, yet, one I could not stop reading. Guilty. Charged.
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I think it could be a good read if there were personal stories about the two of them, but yet, as Jackie was a very private person, I wonder how she would feel about this type of book being written about her...by a friend. Jackie was an enigma. And the stories coming from the lyricist that wrote one of the most enigmatic lines in a song that left us all scampering to expose the subject of vanity...it seems to me a betrayal of trust.
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