“Take it from one of the best living novelists that people’s personalities are not interesting,” she said in a dry voice unlike the voice she uses with me as a rule. “Except,” she added, when you are in love with them.”
And more from the diary of Charles, the lover:
Would I ever have fallen for her if it hadn’t been for her books? I very much doubt it. But now I can’t separate her from her literary self. It’s as if the woman I ‘love’ were always accompanied by a companion spirit infinitely more exciting and more poetic and more profound than E herself…When it comes to writing, well I had a letter from her the other day so blunderingly expressed, so repetitive, that the least of the characters in one of her books would never have been guilty of it.