Something I realized while writing this essay: Carson was born in the same year as my father, and they have a lot in common. Slippery, many-costumed, multi-generic visual artists turned prolific writers; reverent iconoclasts.
She plagiarized my friend, surgeon-author Richard Selzer, and when confronted about it she invented a lame excuse that made me loose all respect for her. Blatantly stealing from another hardworking artist and hoping no one’ll notice is the lowest of the low.
