I have loved Tanya Gold's writing since at least 2004 but I worry about her.
On the one hand, she's smart and funny. And although she seems not to like it when people say this, writes in a kinda-Jewish way which I like.
On the other hand, she let's it all hang out. She wrote that piece in the Guardian saturday magazine a year or so ago about getting back in touch with all her ex-boyfriends and details of their (then) sex life. Fascinating, in a car crash kinda way. But, too...
Too much. Too personal. Too honest. It moves beyond what's in a personal blog in the early nineties that no-one probably reads, to being in a major newspaper and everyone knows who you (and your friends and family) are.
There's always that delicate line when you're a writer. Being honest, un-nuanced, is considered a good thing. But how much of yourself do you share?
Like, if I'd just invited Tanya to my wedding, I probably wouldn't be that happy about this piece. (And no, I didn't have a wedding list: I agree. Wedding lists are for people who don't have two tea-towels to rub together because they're nineteen and live in Stamford Hill. We, on the other hand, were rather Noah's Ark: two of everything (and then some)).