[on Home Births:] In A

The Real Drug, I Came To Believe, Was Love.

The Vehemence With Which Certain Critics Have Chosen Not Simply To Criticize What I've Written, But To Challenge My Writing This Story At All, Speaks Of What The Book Is About: Fear Of Disapproval.

I Believe Every One Of Us Possesses A Fundamental Right To Tell Our Own Story.

Growing Up In The Fifties And Sixties, I Can Only Remember Knowing One Child, Ever, Whose Parents Got A Divorce, And Hardly Any Whose Mother "worked" At Anything Besides Raising Her Children.

Not Only Did I Avoid Speaking Of Salinger; I Resisted Thinking About Him. I Did Not Reread His Letters To Me. The Experience Had Been Too Painful.