NWR: Bummer - Nora Ephron has died

M

maureen

maureen nelson
That woman could write! And she was soooo funny. When I was in high school, I started reading "Esquire" because she had a monthly column in it (so did Joan Didion - those were the days) so I've loved her from way back when. When she married Carl Bernstein, they were my favorite "celebrity couple." Of course, that didn't last long. She turned that heartbreak into a wickedly funny novel, "Heartburn." And of course she wrote the script for one the greatest romantic comedies of all time, "When Harry Met Sally."

She will be missed by many. Good obit in the NY Times.
 
When I read her columns in Esquire, it was the mid-60s and I was a callow adolescent. You were reading beyond your years and in the wrong direction (as a high school teacher said to me once), if you were reading Esquire then, Maureen.
 
When I read her columns in Esquire, it was the mid-60s and I was a callow adolescent. You were reading beyond your years and in the wrong direction (as a high school teacher said to me once), if you were reading Esquire then, Maureen.
 
Professor, with all due respect - I don't think she wrote for Esquire that early - she wasn't born until 1941 and as talented as she was, she wasn't a columnist at Esquire in her mid-20s.

But in my youth, I read beyond my years - Updike and Cheever in junior high!
 
The NY Times obit says she started writing for Esquire in the late 1960s. It's funny how in the 1960s, Esquire had a risqué reputation, but as much as I perused it in hope, I never was able to find any justification for that view.
 
originally posted by Claude Kolm:
originally posted by maureen:

But in my youth, I read beyond my years - Updike and Cheever in junior high!
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Their stories related to life in St Joe, right?
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Yep! Bellow and Roth, too. Captured Missouri life for a 12 year old.

I had literary aspirations as a youth. Too bad I peaked intellectually in fifth grade.
 
I'll accept the late sixties, which would still have made me an adolescent. The story about her small breasts, which I remember reading in high school, however, upon checking, was published in 1972, when I would have just been of voting age--back then. I'm pretty sure I stopped reading Esquire when I got to grad school, which would have been that year.
 
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