Sun Apr 02 2006 17:01 PST Vera Brittain and other thoughts: Susie and John have come and gone. There is a kitty on my bed, and I'm completely absorbed in Vera Brittain. I wish I had more energy to focus on all the other things I need to do but more than that I wish I only had to focus on one thing at a time; which is what I need to do, anyway. And about Vera: is it "Vira" or "Veh-ra?" PH says "Veh-ra" but he also says "Bulgah-ria" and all kinds of other things differently because he is from that place north of here. Why do I like Brittain? Why don't I like her? I do think she's unfairly pedastal-ised at the expense of other women whose war-time and literary contributions, in my opinon, far eclipse hers. Which is not to say Brittain's were not substantial, I like reading her narrative and seeing how it fits in--or doesn't--with other retropective accounts, and I can't wait to read her published diary and see where she contradicts herself. I've come up with the elaborate metaphor where Brittain represents, psycholocially, many things in my life I have hoped for that have not come to pass. She is jealousy itself, the girls I have known or seen and wished I myself were more like, in certain aspects. (Or perhaps whose success I felt unmerited?) Details are too complicated, probably too personal, and almost certainly won't make sense. But there is a cat on my bed, and at least my hair is a pretty shade of red, and what does this have to do with the war anyway?