Four years after my father died, I went to Austin, Texas, to visit the Briscoe Center for American History, where his papers were archived. I missed him and wanted to wade through the stacks of his Smythson notebooks, filled with handwritten reflections, and read early drafts of his articles and novels containing details that never made it to print, because I wanted to hear his voice. I came across a notebook that must have been the diary Tina Brown asked him to keep during the trial.
