And it is. But what the hell, take a look.
The first paragraph refers to the autobiographical novel she labored over for years, before she finally destroyed it—- and despite her expressed intentions here, she didn’t get far in re-writing it.
The furious blast of ill wind gusting through the third paragraph is directed at James Card, film archivist at the George Eastman House, who more than anyone else prompted Brooks’ rediscovery.
* * * * * * * * * * * *