wretchard writes:

“No one can hide the facts in an autobiography better than a good writer. TE Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom come [sic] to mind . . . .
The very greatness of the Seven Pillars has made it the stuff of myth. And maybe that’s what it is.”

My favorite example of autobiography as fraudulent metaphysical adventure is “Bushmen of the Kalahari” by Laurens van der Post. The author and the book were the favorites of Prince Charles. No surprise there, since Charles has always hungers for authenticity.

Van der Post wrote beautifully, inspirationally, mythically. And he was a fabulist. As you read the book, you can’t help but say to yourself, “This just can’t be true (e.g., spirits of the Kalahari jamming his film equipment). Of course it wasn’t true, but no one could say it wasn’t true until his effects became public after his death.

Who is Barack Obama?

I don’t know. But I’m quite sure that if he looked just like his mother, and his name were Barry Dunham, he’d have no street cred at all. Hé’d just be another Dick Durbin, and his angst would be soley pitiful rather than pitifully attractive.