By Nora Ephron
What would the genre of romantic comedy be without Nora Ephron? It would be stupidly sentimental. Ephron’s only novel, Heartburn, is a hilarious roman à clef of the dissolution of her marriage to her second husband, Carl Bernstein. Ephron’s alter ego, Rachel, discovers that her husband is having yet another affair, and this time he’s “in love.” Devastated and seven months pregnant, she flees Washington, D.C., for New York, where she’s mugged during a group-therapy session. You just can’t make this stuff up, unless of course, you’re Nora Ephron. RIP.
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