This is a ridiculous book. That’s not my opinion or choice of words. It is how Jane Rawson, the author, describes Human/Nature within its own pages. It’s a throwaway comment, perhaps one an editor would have questioned – the type of loose thread that could easily have been snipped with nobody the wiser.
The danger of self-deprecation is that it can be thrown back in your face. I don’t mean to do that, so much as to ask: what is it about this heartfelt book that moves its author to dismiss it, even in passing, as ridiculous? What does it mean? What is it a sign of?
