Reborn - Early Diaries 1947-1963, by Susan Sontag

Just finished Reborn; it has interesting parts, but it was never able to captivate me for more than brief moments. Maybe because Susan Sontag takes herself too seriously and lacks a sense of humor, or because she's too self-centered, or due to her obstinate goal of building a self instead of just being herself - although that can be quite worthwhile - or because of a number of small indefinable things. I was never able to sympathize / empathize with her for more than brief moments, and that's an insurmountable obstacle to like diaries or correspondences. And the writing didn't help - in a raw state, her writing was rather plain.

But yet there are passages that touched me, like:

From this, a will to failure that often my talents frustrate. So then I devalue my successes (fellowships, the novel, jobs). These become unreal to me. I feel I am masquerading, pretending.

Aristotle is right: happiness is not to be aimed at; it is a by-product of activity aimed at -

One of the main (social) functions of a journal or diary is precisely to be read furtively by other people, the people (like parents + lovers) about whom one has been cruelly honest only in the journal.

Why is writing important? Mainly, out of egotism, I suppose. Because I want to be that persona, a writer, and not because there is something I must say.

All in all, I'm not sure if I want to read the other two volumes of her diaries.