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----- Forwarded message from spklein52@hotmail.com -----
Date: Wed, 23 Nov 2005 13:42:37 -0500
From: "Sandy P. Klein" <spklein52@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: SPKlein52@HotMail.com
Subject: Dear Dmitri Nabokov: Don't Burn Laura! Let Draft Gather Dust ...
To: spklein52@hotmail.com
[1] http://nyobserver.com/pageone_ronrosenbaum.asp[2]
Dear Dmitri Nabokov:
DonÂ’t Burn Laura!
Let Draft Gather Dust
By Ron Rosenbaum
Oh my God, IÂ’ve stumbled upon what seems to be a terrible literary
tragedy in the making. Or perhaps weÂ’re getting what we deserve. But
I feel I would be remiss not to alert the world of letters to the
dire new twist in the fate of _The Original of Laura_, Vladimir
NabokovÂ’s last unpublished manuscript. It exists now in a
safe-deposit box whose location is known to only two people. If what
IÂ’ve just learned is true, itÂ’s likely never to see the light of
day—indeed, it may well be destroyed. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I
didnÂ’t know of the existence of _The Original of Laura_ until very
recently, when I learned about its peril. I only came upon reference
to it as I was thinking of writing about a surprising new disclosure
in the German scholar Michael MaarÂ’s new book, _The Two Lolitas_. IÂ’d
written about Maar’s “cryptomnesia” theory—which attempts to connect a
1916 German story called “Lolita” with Nabokov’s 1955 _Lolita_—in the
April 19, 2004, issue of _The Observer_, when his essay was initially
published in English in LondonÂ’s _TLS_. But the new book takes a new
turn. And as I was Googling to see whether anyone had seen the
significance of Maar’s “Atomite”* discovery, I came across an essay
by Harvard professor Leland de la Durantaye on _Lolita_ in _The
Village Voice_, in which he mentions the existence of _The Original
of Laura_: “When Nabokov died in 1977, he left behind an unfinished
novel entitled _The Original of Laura_. His express wish was that it
be destroyed upon his death. Before him, Virgil and Kafka had left
similar instructions [to destroy their work]; neither was obeyed. Nor
was Nabokov. His wife, VĂ©ra, found herself unable to carry out her
late husbandÂ’s wishes, and when she passed away in 1991 she
bequeathed the decision to their son. The manuscriptÂ’s location is
kept secret.” NOT ENTIRELY SECRET ANY MORE; I learned _something_
about its location directly from the authorÂ’s son, translator and
fierce custodian of the VN legacy, Dmitri Nabokov, in a recent e-mail
exchange—in which he also disclosed something shocking, which I’ll get
to. But first, what do we know about _The Original of Laura_? Yes, it
is mentioned in Brian BoydÂ’s biography, but I was relieved to
discover I was not alone in my cryptomnesia (O.K., amnesia). At a
recent, incredibly appealing—and packed—“Evening of Catullus,” a
_Bookforum_ reading from Peter GreenÂ’s new translation of the
brilliant and imaginatively obscene Roman poet (I translated all the
nasty bits in college! Along with the epic beauty of poem 64, of
course), the only person I found whoÂ’d heard of NabokovÂ’s _Laura_
among the erudite attendees was the critic Geoffrey OÂ’Brien, also
editor in chief of the Library of America (which published three
volumes of Nabokov works). No surprise, really: We have had only
sporadic mentions over the years, which have produced conflicting
impressions. Most say the incomplete manuscript of _Laura_ was a part
(a third? a half?) of what was to be a short novel. It is said to take
the form of index cards, on which Nabokov wrote his first drafts. Some
say, confusingly, it was 30 to 40 “pages”; some say more. The only
reference I could find by the author himself certainly makes it seem
enticing. ItÂ’s from the _Selected Letters, 1940-1977_ (edited by
Dmitri Nabokov and Matthew J. Bruccoli), dated October 30, 1976. In
it, VN describes “_The Original of Laura_, the not quite finished
manuscript of a novel which I had begun writing and reworking before
my illness and which was completed in my mind: I must have gone
through it some fifty times and in my diurnal delirium kept reading
it aloud to a small dream audience in a walled garden. My audience
consisted of peacocks, pigeons, my long dead parents, two cypresses,
several young nurses crouching around, and a family doctor so old as
to be almost invisible.”
Just a hundred words or so about_ Laura_, and you can see how its
creator was enchanted by it. Fifty times! Peacocks and pigeons!
Diurnal delirium, dream audience, walled garden Â…. And VN reading it,
feeling that his “stumblings and fits of coughing” made it less a
success than he hoped the finished version “will have … with
intelligent reviewers when properly published.” It was not to be, and
perhaps in that last clause, thereÂ’s a hint of the origin of his wish
for it to be burned. Even in his dream, he was upset by an audience
hearing an impaired, “stumbling” version of something he cherished.
An anticipation of what, in his illness, he intuited the situation
might become? ItÂ’s beautiful but heartbreaking, considering what
happened. He died eight months later, leaving behind the burning
imperative. So many writers have expressed similar inflammatory
wishes and designs. Gogol—VN’s biographical study of whom is one of
his most underrated works—actually did it. (The second part of _Dead
Souls_—unbearable!) But what about an incomplete first draft—would it
tell us anything? Why had he ordered it burned? I was thinking of the
controversy over “Hand D” in Shakespeare studies. A chapter in my
forthcoming book deals with the controversy over the alleged
Shakespearean handwritten contribution, a 147-line scene, in the
never-published play _Sir Thomas More_—an unfinished scene, a first
draft with cross-outs, cuts, changes. ItÂ’s impossible to know for
certain, despite thematic suggestiveness, if this is the only example
of ShakespeareÂ’s handwritten playwriting in existence, but are we
interested? We are interested—it could, if authentic, tell us
something about his creative process, his thematic preoccupations.
And in this case, we know itÂ’s VN, and, whatÂ’s more, we have the
testimony of Dmitri Nabokov, who has read it all and on one occasion
quoted passages. In _The Literary Encyclopedia_, Dmitri, an
accomplished opera singer, now 71, is quoted saying that _Laura_
“would have been Father’s most brilliant novel, the most concentrated
distillation of his creativity, but whose release in incomplete form
he expressly forbade.” _The Times_’ Mel Gussow quotes Dmitri in 1998
saying it would have been “a brilliant, original and potentially
totally radical book, in the literary sense, very different from the
rest of his oeuvre [but] my father gave the order to destroy it.” And
then Professor Zoran Kuzmanovich, editor of _Nabokov Studies_, told
_Salon_ that _Laura_ seemed to be about “aging but holding onto the
original love of one’s life.” At this point, I think we need to pause
for a little speculative title analysis. I once—rather successfully,
according to some noted Pynchonians—speculated upon the unreleased
_Mason & Dixon_ just on the basis of the title, linking it to “the
transit of Venus,” as indeed Pynchon did. But _The Original of
Laura_? If we take Professor KuzmanovichÂ’s word for it, it sounds
like a tribute of some kind to VNÂ’s wife, VĂ©ra. But then _Lolita_ is
a return to a lost love as well, the Annabel of HumbertÂ’s childhood.
And, needless to say, VNÂ’s finest work, _Pale Fire_, concerns the
disposition of a dead authorÂ’s index-card draft. Part of me wants to
believe it was at least half-inspired by _Laura_, the movie about a
detective haunted by a woman whose murder heÂ’s trying to solve. An
obsession derived from, fixated on a painting of Laura. Portraits are
often said to be taken “from the original.” But what if _The Original
of Laura_ were somehow related not to a woman or a painting, but to a
literary work? What if it were inspired by the original _Lolita_, the
1939 Russian novella Nabokov called _The ­Enchanter_, the
manuscript of which he thought he had destroyed, but which was
rediscovered in 1959 and translated and published in English after
VNÂ’s death. Already haunting _The Original of Laura_ are ghost
afterimages: a parody/homage in _McSweeneyÂ’s_ three years ago
authored, it appears, under an apparent pseudonym by Penn State
Library cataloging specialist Jeff Edmunds. Then there was the
controversy over whether samples of the original of _The Original of
Laura_ were entered into a Nabokov “prose-alike” contest sponsored by
_The Nabokovian_ magazine—or were they fake originals of _The
Original_? THERE WAS A READING OF BRIED PASSAGES FROM LAURA by
Dmitri at Cornell some years ago that led Professor Kuzmanovich to
conclude it was about “the original love of one’s life.” And I’ve
heard there’s an “explanation” of some sort of _Laura_ in the
Nabokov-Edmund Wilson letters. I only found a copy at the last
minute, but riffling though it, there certainly donÂ’t seem to be any
excerpts, and IÂ’ve yet to find a clue to the nature or genesis of
_Laura_. (Professor de la Durantaye points out the Wilson
correspondence came to an end long before Nabokov spoke of writing
_Laura_.) I donÂ’t think IÂ’m going to get anywhere productive with
this, so let us now turn to its fate. Through a mutual friend, I was
able to get an e-mail to Dmitri Nabokov, who had, IÂ’d been told, some
kind words for my thoughts on _Pale Fire_ in a previous _Observer_
piece (July 18, 2005). He was gracious enough to reply to an e-mail I
sent asking him for comment on _Laura_ and its disposition. He said
two things. First, that the safe-deposit box containing _The Original
of Laura_ was located in Switzerland, in a bank vault, and only
Dmitri—_and one other person_ (unidentified)—knew where. And second,
that _he will probably destroy it before he dies!_ Destroy it because
of his fatherÂ’s wishes and what he described as the repellent (he
used another word) atmosphere of what he called “Lolitology” these
days. I had known there was trouble in Lolita-land even on the
much-celebrated 50th anniversary of that novel. I subscribe to a
Nabokov e-mail list serve; IÂ’d witnessed the entire list implode and
cease posting for some time due to an explosive controversy between
Dmitri and some members of the list over a remark in a new VN
biographical study—a blow-up I did not follow as carefully as I’m
sure I should have. And there was the European pressÂ’ thick-witted
reaction to the Michael Maar thesis about the 1916 “Lolita,” claiming
it involved “plagiarism”—which Maar made abundantly clear he did not
think was involved at all. I think you have to understand the
difficulty of DmitriÂ’s position. Whatever we may _think_ VN really
meant, his instructions were extremely clear: Destroy it. His wife
VĂ©ra died before destroying it. ItÂ’s DmitriÂ’s responsibility, and
itÂ’s easy for _you_ to say he has a responsibility to the literary
world to give us this last fragment of his fatherÂ’s genius. On the
other hand … VN’s dream of reading _Laura_ aloud in the “walled
garden” … It was a nightmare: VN trying to read the story, but
stumbling and regretting it. Hoping against hope it would be
“properly published.” Clearly, he did not wish a version that
“stumbled” in any respect to see the light of day. Until very
recently, the reports were that Dmitri was considering placing the
manuscript in the trust of a university, a museum or a foundation,
whose trustees would decide upon limited access for scholars. But if
what he says in his e-mail to me holds true, itÂ’s for the flames. I
just hope he didnÂ’t make up his previously undecided mind _in
response_ to my e-mail. _How would I live with that?_ ThatÂ’s really
the fear that has driven me to alert the world to the imminent
possibility of a safe-deposit-box withdrawal and a fire to follow.
ON THE OTHER HAND, I UNDERSTAND DMITRI'S IMPATIENCE with the
biographical fetishism that has invaded literature—a product of
celebrity culture, IÂ’d argue. I certainly see it in the cultural
capital of Shakespeare biographies as compared to studies of
ShakespeareÂ’s work. If the destruction of _The Original of Laura_ is
inevitable (and I think it isnÂ’t, and would like to add my voice to
what IÂ’m sure will be those of others pleading with Dmitri not to
burn it), it’s the reductive biographizing—pathographizing—of
literature that is responsible. Read the works! Life is too short to
care more deeply about the life of the one who wrote them, whose
secrets are usually irretrievable anyway. Meanwhile—this is
urgent—won’t some foundation or university library (I’d vote for my
alma materÂ’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library) step forward
with a detailed plan for funding the preservation of _The Original of
Laura_, this irreplaceable literary treasure? And present the plan to
Dmitri and the Nabokov estate. That way, he wonÂ’t have to choose
between destruction and vague statements of good intentions. Time is
running out. What if the safe-deposit boxÂ’s location gets lost? And
if something is worked out and _The Original of Laura_ is saved from
the flames, theyÂ’d better let me read it.
Links:
------
[1] http://nyobserver.com/homepage.asp
[2] http://nyobserver.com/pageone_ronrosenbaum.asp
----- End forwarded message -----
Date: Wed, 23 Nov 2005 13:42:37 -0500
From: "Sandy P. Klein" <spklein52@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: SPKlein52@HotMail.com
Subject: Dear Dmitri Nabokov: Don't Burn Laura! Let Draft Gather Dust ...
To: spklein52@hotmail.com
[1] http://nyobserver.com/pageone_ronrosenbaum.asp[2]
Dear Dmitri Nabokov:
DonÂ’t Burn Laura!
Let Draft Gather Dust
By Ron Rosenbaum
Oh my God, IÂ’ve stumbled upon what seems to be a terrible literary
tragedy in the making. Or perhaps weÂ’re getting what we deserve. But
I feel I would be remiss not to alert the world of letters to the
dire new twist in the fate of _The Original of Laura_, Vladimir
NabokovÂ’s last unpublished manuscript. It exists now in a
safe-deposit box whose location is known to only two people. If what
IÂ’ve just learned is true, itÂ’s likely never to see the light of
day—indeed, it may well be destroyed. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I
didnÂ’t know of the existence of _The Original of Laura_ until very
recently, when I learned about its peril. I only came upon reference
to it as I was thinking of writing about a surprising new disclosure
in the German scholar Michael MaarÂ’s new book, _The Two Lolitas_. IÂ’d
written about Maar’s “cryptomnesia” theory—which attempts to connect a
1916 German story called “Lolita” with Nabokov’s 1955 _Lolita_—in the
April 19, 2004, issue of _The Observer_, when his essay was initially
published in English in LondonÂ’s _TLS_. But the new book takes a new
turn. And as I was Googling to see whether anyone had seen the
significance of Maar’s “Atomite”* discovery, I came across an essay
by Harvard professor Leland de la Durantaye on _Lolita_ in _The
Village Voice_, in which he mentions the existence of _The Original
of Laura_: “When Nabokov died in 1977, he left behind an unfinished
novel entitled _The Original of Laura_. His express wish was that it
be destroyed upon his death. Before him, Virgil and Kafka had left
similar instructions [to destroy their work]; neither was obeyed. Nor
was Nabokov. His wife, VĂ©ra, found herself unable to carry out her
late husbandÂ’s wishes, and when she passed away in 1991 she
bequeathed the decision to their son. The manuscriptÂ’s location is
kept secret.” NOT ENTIRELY SECRET ANY MORE; I learned _something_
about its location directly from the authorÂ’s son, translator and
fierce custodian of the VN legacy, Dmitri Nabokov, in a recent e-mail
exchange—in which he also disclosed something shocking, which I’ll get
to. But first, what do we know about _The Original of Laura_? Yes, it
is mentioned in Brian BoydÂ’s biography, but I was relieved to
discover I was not alone in my cryptomnesia (O.K., amnesia). At a
recent, incredibly appealing—and packed—“Evening of Catullus,” a
_Bookforum_ reading from Peter GreenÂ’s new translation of the
brilliant and imaginatively obscene Roman poet (I translated all the
nasty bits in college! Along with the epic beauty of poem 64, of
course), the only person I found whoÂ’d heard of NabokovÂ’s _Laura_
among the erudite attendees was the critic Geoffrey OÂ’Brien, also
editor in chief of the Library of America (which published three
volumes of Nabokov works). No surprise, really: We have had only
sporadic mentions over the years, which have produced conflicting
impressions. Most say the incomplete manuscript of _Laura_ was a part
(a third? a half?) of what was to be a short novel. It is said to take
the form of index cards, on which Nabokov wrote his first drafts. Some
say, confusingly, it was 30 to 40 “pages”; some say more. The only
reference I could find by the author himself certainly makes it seem
enticing. ItÂ’s from the _Selected Letters, 1940-1977_ (edited by
Dmitri Nabokov and Matthew J. Bruccoli), dated October 30, 1976. In
it, VN describes “_The Original of Laura_, the not quite finished
manuscript of a novel which I had begun writing and reworking before
my illness and which was completed in my mind: I must have gone
through it some fifty times and in my diurnal delirium kept reading
it aloud to a small dream audience in a walled garden. My audience
consisted of peacocks, pigeons, my long dead parents, two cypresses,
several young nurses crouching around, and a family doctor so old as
to be almost invisible.”
Just a hundred words or so about_ Laura_, and you can see how its
creator was enchanted by it. Fifty times! Peacocks and pigeons!
Diurnal delirium, dream audience, walled garden Â…. And VN reading it,
feeling that his “stumblings and fits of coughing” made it less a
success than he hoped the finished version “will have … with
intelligent reviewers when properly published.” It was not to be, and
perhaps in that last clause, thereÂ’s a hint of the origin of his wish
for it to be burned. Even in his dream, he was upset by an audience
hearing an impaired, “stumbling” version of something he cherished.
An anticipation of what, in his illness, he intuited the situation
might become? ItÂ’s beautiful but heartbreaking, considering what
happened. He died eight months later, leaving behind the burning
imperative. So many writers have expressed similar inflammatory
wishes and designs. Gogol—VN’s biographical study of whom is one of
his most underrated works—actually did it. (The second part of _Dead
Souls_—unbearable!) But what about an incomplete first draft—would it
tell us anything? Why had he ordered it burned? I was thinking of the
controversy over “Hand D” in Shakespeare studies. A chapter in my
forthcoming book deals with the controversy over the alleged
Shakespearean handwritten contribution, a 147-line scene, in the
never-published play _Sir Thomas More_—an unfinished scene, a first
draft with cross-outs, cuts, changes. ItÂ’s impossible to know for
certain, despite thematic suggestiveness, if this is the only example
of ShakespeareÂ’s handwritten playwriting in existence, but are we
interested? We are interested—it could, if authentic, tell us
something about his creative process, his thematic preoccupations.
And in this case, we know itÂ’s VN, and, whatÂ’s more, we have the
testimony of Dmitri Nabokov, who has read it all and on one occasion
quoted passages. In _The Literary Encyclopedia_, Dmitri, an
accomplished opera singer, now 71, is quoted saying that _Laura_
“would have been Father’s most brilliant novel, the most concentrated
distillation of his creativity, but whose release in incomplete form
he expressly forbade.” _The Times_’ Mel Gussow quotes Dmitri in 1998
saying it would have been “a brilliant, original and potentially
totally radical book, in the literary sense, very different from the
rest of his oeuvre [but] my father gave the order to destroy it.” And
then Professor Zoran Kuzmanovich, editor of _Nabokov Studies_, told
_Salon_ that _Laura_ seemed to be about “aging but holding onto the
original love of one’s life.” At this point, I think we need to pause
for a little speculative title analysis. I once—rather successfully,
according to some noted Pynchonians—speculated upon the unreleased
_Mason & Dixon_ just on the basis of the title, linking it to “the
transit of Venus,” as indeed Pynchon did. But _The Original of
Laura_? If we take Professor KuzmanovichÂ’s word for it, it sounds
like a tribute of some kind to VNÂ’s wife, VĂ©ra. But then _Lolita_ is
a return to a lost love as well, the Annabel of HumbertÂ’s childhood.
And, needless to say, VNÂ’s finest work, _Pale Fire_, concerns the
disposition of a dead authorÂ’s index-card draft. Part of me wants to
believe it was at least half-inspired by _Laura_, the movie about a
detective haunted by a woman whose murder heÂ’s trying to solve. An
obsession derived from, fixated on a painting of Laura. Portraits are
often said to be taken “from the original.” But what if _The Original
of Laura_ were somehow related not to a woman or a painting, but to a
literary work? What if it were inspired by the original _Lolita_, the
1939 Russian novella Nabokov called _The ­Enchanter_, the
manuscript of which he thought he had destroyed, but which was
rediscovered in 1959 and translated and published in English after
VNÂ’s death. Already haunting _The Original of Laura_ are ghost
afterimages: a parody/homage in _McSweeneyÂ’s_ three years ago
authored, it appears, under an apparent pseudonym by Penn State
Library cataloging specialist Jeff Edmunds. Then there was the
controversy over whether samples of the original of _The Original of
Laura_ were entered into a Nabokov “prose-alike” contest sponsored by
_The Nabokovian_ magazine—or were they fake originals of _The
Original_? THERE WAS A READING OF BRIED PASSAGES FROM LAURA by
Dmitri at Cornell some years ago that led Professor Kuzmanovich to
conclude it was about “the original love of one’s life.” And I’ve
heard there’s an “explanation” of some sort of _Laura_ in the
Nabokov-Edmund Wilson letters. I only found a copy at the last
minute, but riffling though it, there certainly donÂ’t seem to be any
excerpts, and IÂ’ve yet to find a clue to the nature or genesis of
_Laura_. (Professor de la Durantaye points out the Wilson
correspondence came to an end long before Nabokov spoke of writing
_Laura_.) I donÂ’t think IÂ’m going to get anywhere productive with
this, so let us now turn to its fate. Through a mutual friend, I was
able to get an e-mail to Dmitri Nabokov, who had, IÂ’d been told, some
kind words for my thoughts on _Pale Fire_ in a previous _Observer_
piece (July 18, 2005). He was gracious enough to reply to an e-mail I
sent asking him for comment on _Laura_ and its disposition. He said
two things. First, that the safe-deposit box containing _The Original
of Laura_ was located in Switzerland, in a bank vault, and only
Dmitri—_and one other person_ (unidentified)—knew where. And second,
that _he will probably destroy it before he dies!_ Destroy it because
of his fatherÂ’s wishes and what he described as the repellent (he
used another word) atmosphere of what he called “Lolitology” these
days. I had known there was trouble in Lolita-land even on the
much-celebrated 50th anniversary of that novel. I subscribe to a
Nabokov e-mail list serve; IÂ’d witnessed the entire list implode and
cease posting for some time due to an explosive controversy between
Dmitri and some members of the list over a remark in a new VN
biographical study—a blow-up I did not follow as carefully as I’m
sure I should have. And there was the European pressÂ’ thick-witted
reaction to the Michael Maar thesis about the 1916 “Lolita,” claiming
it involved “plagiarism”—which Maar made abundantly clear he did not
think was involved at all. I think you have to understand the
difficulty of DmitriÂ’s position. Whatever we may _think_ VN really
meant, his instructions were extremely clear: Destroy it. His wife
VĂ©ra died before destroying it. ItÂ’s DmitriÂ’s responsibility, and
itÂ’s easy for _you_ to say he has a responsibility to the literary
world to give us this last fragment of his fatherÂ’s genius. On the
other hand … VN’s dream of reading _Laura_ aloud in the “walled
garden” … It was a nightmare: VN trying to read the story, but
stumbling and regretting it. Hoping against hope it would be
“properly published.” Clearly, he did not wish a version that
“stumbled” in any respect to see the light of day. Until very
recently, the reports were that Dmitri was considering placing the
manuscript in the trust of a university, a museum or a foundation,
whose trustees would decide upon limited access for scholars. But if
what he says in his e-mail to me holds true, itÂ’s for the flames. I
just hope he didnÂ’t make up his previously undecided mind _in
response_ to my e-mail. _How would I live with that?_ ThatÂ’s really
the fear that has driven me to alert the world to the imminent
possibility of a safe-deposit-box withdrawal and a fire to follow.
ON THE OTHER HAND, I UNDERSTAND DMITRI'S IMPATIENCE with the
biographical fetishism that has invaded literature—a product of
celebrity culture, IÂ’d argue. I certainly see it in the cultural
capital of Shakespeare biographies as compared to studies of
ShakespeareÂ’s work. If the destruction of _The Original of Laura_ is
inevitable (and I think it isnÂ’t, and would like to add my voice to
what IÂ’m sure will be those of others pleading with Dmitri not to
burn it), it’s the reductive biographizing—pathographizing—of
literature that is responsible. Read the works! Life is too short to
care more deeply about the life of the one who wrote them, whose
secrets are usually irretrievable anyway. Meanwhile—this is
urgent—won’t some foundation or university library (I’d vote for my
alma materÂ’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library) step forward
with a detailed plan for funding the preservation of _The Original of
Laura_, this irreplaceable literary treasure? And present the plan to
Dmitri and the Nabokov estate. That way, he wonÂ’t have to choose
between destruction and vague statements of good intentions. Time is
running out. What if the safe-deposit boxÂ’s location gets lost? And
if something is worked out and _The Original of Laura_ is saved from
the flames, theyÂ’d better let me read it.
Links:
------
[1] http://nyobserver.com/homepage.asp
[2] http://nyobserver.com/pageone_ronrosenbaum.asp
----- End forwarded message -----