There's the rub

The following letter, from the widow of Alain Robbe-Grillet,  appears In the current issue of the London Review of Books:

The best things in life are free

Adam Shatz presents, most fastidiously, many facets of Alain Robbe-Grillet and his work, and writes with particular sensitivity about the eccentric vitality of the Robbe-Grillet clan (a vitality greatly appreciated by myself) and about Robbe-Grillet’s two great passions: literature and his ‘petite Catherine’ (LRB, 31 July).

I know that this critique will be widely read, and there’s the rub, the reason I am particularly distressed by an inaccuracy which, in view of the reputation of the LRB, is likely to be taken as gospel: I have never received ‘clients’, either in my ‘chambre secrète’ or anywhere else; neither before Alain’s death, nor after. I have only ever been a dominatrix for my personal pleasure, never ever for money! (This fact would be easy enough to verify.) Please know that it would be most prejudicial to me should such a misconception ever be taken as fact.

Catherine Robbe-Grillet

Château du Mesnil-au-Grain, Normandy

© The London Review of Books