(This was a response to something on PB's blog, but is really a topic of its own. Not as good a topic as the bible thing, though, so I'm putting it below.)
I found Anne Lammott my senior year in high school when she had a column on Salon. This was back before Salon was even updated daily. When Cintra Wilson wrote for it and hardly anybody was reading it.
Anyway, yes, I loved Operating Instructions and I read it and re-read it until one day it occurred to me what Sam's life is going to be like when they other guys in junior high figure out what "Oedipal" means.
After that, I just couldn't get into her any more and what I've read since has made me grow to dislike her more with time.
If I had a nasty fight with my scumbag brother I wouldn't go and blog about how much he sucks and how miserable I am and why did my parents ever have to have more kids after me.
And if I did blog about that, he could make a blog of his own or try to sue me or do something to defend himself.
Sam had, and has, no such recourse.
Yes, she loves him. But I really think she loves Anne first.
She may have kicked her cocaine habit, but I think it has been replaced by an addiction to hearing how clever and spiritual and wonderful Anne Lamott is and she's just as willing to pimp her son to get a fix as any junkie.
Boy, that is nastily phrased. But I really feel strongly about her and about the kid who is going to have to hear "Oh,I LOVED the time you were sick as a baby and threw up for three days! Your Mom is so BRILLIANT and so BRAVE for admitting she had you accidentally and you made her miserable all the time when you were a baby" his whole life.