Blurring the lines- Part 1 – Fragments of Marylin

Last night I listened to a panel review of Fragments, a collection of Marylin Monroe’s handwritten notes, letters and poetry. It left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable and just a little disgusted. It disturbs me that fifty years after the troubled icon’s death, her intimate scribblings are published by someone who never knew her, who only had access to these documents because Monroe bequeathed them to the exploiter’s (now deceased) husband on the understanding that he would distribute them amongst her closest friends – a promise that was never fulfilled.

These fragments, composed of personal thoughts jotted down on hotel room stationary and, as one reviewer put it, laughably bad poetry, are now in the public domain. Things that were personal to her, and if the panel is to be believed, of no literary value.  Our society’s fascination with her seems to me akin to stopping at the scene of an accident, not to help, but to simply gasp at the gore. It leaves me wondering if it’s necessary to strip her memory of these last vestiges of dignity.

Haven’t we gawped over her abusive relationships, addictions and self destructive tendencies enough? or have we, with the advent of an age where we trawl through stranger’s blogs and friend’s Facebook pages, prying into their lives, forgotten where to draw the line? Perhaps there is no longer a line and everything is fair game.