Garry Wills is such a remarkable writer, I'm still awed when I read him. In the New York Review of Books, he's done a terrific job on Hillary Clinton's "Living History":

But we are told that a strong woman, a "true" feminist, can no longer put up with such humiliation. We are usually informed what the true feminist should do by anti-feminists. I wonder what world such people live in. We see all the time women who are strong and independent, but who love disappointing partners. I am thinking of a truly strong woman like Jacqueline (Mrs. Jesse) Jackson. I know, and I suspect you do, many women (and for that matter men) in whom love interferes with consistency. Eulogies of the recently deceased Katharine Hepburn rightly celebrated her as a forerunner of and model for modern feminists, proud and free, with her own shrewdly crafted career, the daughter and niece of pioneer woman suffragists. But Claudia Roth Pierpont noted that this free spirit subordinated herself to the demanding Spencer Tracy, "from the part of her that required someone to save."[5] Even before she met Tracy, she was enamored of the director John Ford. I have read her love letters to him in the Lilly Library of the University of Indiana. Written in her delicate slanting hand, they are schoolgirl effusions. Even the tough Ms. Hepburn could be sappy. Feminism, like any other ism, is not an inoculation against sappiness.

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