After the first couple of chapters, I described this book as "sad and creepy in a Grey Gardens kind of way." But as I've read more about Huguette Clark, I've realized that the key difference between her and poor Edie Beale is that Huguette was happy. She loved her doll collections and her miniature houses, she was busy and felt purposeful, and she had relationships that were as close and affectionate as she wanted them to be. This is not the sad story I thought it was; this is a story of a happy, loved, unconventional woman.
At least so far. There's still the last two decades of her life in which she refused to leave the hospital. But I haven't gotten there yet.