In Which I Get Confused Between Reality and Fiction

I'm reading this great book at the moment, it's called The Importance of Being Kennedy and is a sort of fictional account of real events in the lives of the Kennedy family.

I've read it before and I really like it, but books like this tend to confuse my brain (not actually me obviously, its a lot stupider than I am)  in the same way that books about the Beatles do.  I get so caught up in the story that it's very hard to take a step back and appreciate that it's not just a plotted work of fiction, but what actually happenend to real people.  You know, in their actual real lives.  There's just something about not-so-distant history which I find hard to contextualise.  Perhaps I am cognitally limited after all.

So anyway, the last time I read this book I went a bit Kennedy mad and bought loads of other books including The Kennedys: An American Drama, The Kennedy Women, Sons and Brothers: The Days and Jack and Bobby Kennedy  and  Brothers: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years and read them all in a lovely big Kennedy binge. 

I suppose all of this is a roundabout way of revealing that I have a bit of a Kennedy obsession, consider it a type of therapy if you will.  Clearly this is not the same sort of crush that I was talking about yesterday (*whispers* Charlie Brooker)  but more of a slightly unhealthy historical interest which involves pouring over grainy black and white pictures trying to make myself believe that they're really real.

And in case you were wondering (and I simply can't imagine what more pressing questions could possibly exist in your life), my top 5 favourite Kennedys are as follows:

1. 
   
   Bobby
2. 
   
   Kick
3. 
   
   Teddy
4. 
   
   Jack
5. 
   
   Rosie.

 Actually thinking about it, I wonder if this post was really a good way to try and convince everyone I'm not mad.  You know, after yesterday and everything when I knew I was on thin ice.  Today I can hear the cracks starting to spread.