I suppose this comment must be filed under Potshots at Silliman but likening Stephanie Young to Scarlett Johansson, and vice versa, wobbles from the get go (where'd get go come from, anyway?). I've never seen SJ in a movie but I've been in enough waiting rooms to know she's regularly crowded into People magazine. the core of Silliman's gist portends the idea that all the rosiness in Stephanie's still Young poetry career will threaten, finally, her Art. you know the grim story: sycophants fighting each other to get on the Stephanie train, clashes with the good, hardworking poets she knew on the way up, then uppers to help manage her hectic poet schedule, and downers as the only respite therefrom, then well-publicized dates with Harold Bloom orchestrated by her manager Puff Diddy Wah Diddy, then a fistfight with Star Jones outside Spago (which she loses), and when things couldn't get any worse, Poetry Magzine publishes Young's 5000 page tribute to Saul Bellow ("ye novelist of great repute, / hence not forsake me with your rebuke, / for your great works of intense review, / doth produce great sparky inklings for the sensitive few") and Knopf publishes her 270,000 pages linked haiku series I Really Love America, which bombs, and President Jeb Bush, told that there were innuendos in the work, of what nature it matters not, snubs Stephanie at the Inaugural Ball, and so with Domino Theory precision everything good in S Young's life goes catastrophic, Erato gets fed up with her, and in the end Stephanie Young becomes a real estate agent. sad, really.