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In her new memoir, Piper Kerman describes herself as a "nice blond lady." She is a Smith graduate from a loving New England family. She served 13 months in 20, mostly in a minimum-security federal prison in Danbury, Conn.
Though by the tenets of the transgression memoir she must repent, in Kerman's case, the girl does not dig deep enough to come up with any genuine regret.
She writes, "[T]he women I met in Danbury helped me confront the things I had done wrong, as well as the wrong things that I had done." This chest-beating rings false to the reader, because it's clear that Kerman believes drug trafficking was merely a version of youthful rebellion, and her only true crime is pushing people away—what she refers to as her "I-am-an-island-fortress method of dealing" with problems.
The suspicion that she doesn't think her crime was so terrible is compounded by the cheeky "Free Piper" T-shirts sold on the Web site devoted to Kerman's plight.
Instead, what Kerman seems to be after is a tidy narrative, not too messy or gritty for daytime talk shows but just difficult enough to be inspiring–prison lite?
Kerman's book starts out with her as a punchy postgrad with "a thirst for bohemian counterculture" stuck waitressing in her college town of Northampton, Mass.