This is a new one on me: a hatchet obituary
But interviewers found that a sense of irony was not one of her strong points,
and concluded that her banalities were not written out of a desire to amuse, but
merely reflected the fact that she had nothing to say and could not write. The
Diary of a Nobody explored a pedestrian mind, but the exploring was by a writer
of great intelligence. Misadventures, by contrast, was entirely authentic.
If the unexamined life is not worth living, where does that leave a life both painstakingly examined and fundamentally empty?