Kitty, kitty, kitty
As soon as I get my greedy mitts on Kitty Kelley’s epic tone poem about a certain upper-crust white-trash clan, I intend to provide ongoing interpretation of its findings. Michiko Kakutani was so hopping mad about it in The Times, stamping both her little moccasins at once, that I’m convinced La Kitty is on to something. The Times never gets that indignant about a simple piece of pop trash; it’s only when the ruling class is given the tabloid treatment that the paper becomes institutionally huffy. And it’s rather rich for a Times writer to squawk about an author using anonymous sources. The Times couldn’t function without self-serving leaks from highly placed urinators. It might have been better had the Times assigned the review to Janet Maslin, who has the taste of a middlebrow hausfrau; she could have devoured the book in one sitting and put on seven pounds.