Things I Really Don't Want to Know

In the February 17, 2012 edition of my bible, Entertainment Weekly (EW), I read the review of Once Upon a Secret by Mimi Alford. The book is a memoir about how she was seduced by a famous and powerful man, a secret she has carried with her all her life.

It's not that I don't feel great compassion for what happened to her. It is just that I hate to see all my idols and role models exposed as being not only human but thinking of themselves as entitled to the point of disregarding the sanctity of another human being.

Several pages later there is a review of Full Service, a sordid Hollywood tale, by Scotty Bowers in which he tells all about the famous people with whom he interacted facilitating and sometimes participating in their varying sexual appetites.

Am I alone in not wanting to know these things?

I remember as he got older that my father was no longer interested in current literature, which had become  too sexual and descriptively violent for his tastes. At that point he began collecting and re-reading the likes of  Zane Grey and Raphael Sabatini, stories from his childhood and earlier years. He wanted to read wonderful tales. He wanted to read about brave heroes. Perhaps my reaction is a similar one as I grow older.