I have been preoccupied lately with what I call – for lack of a better term – “areas of concern”. When we think about a particular topic, object, person, or whatever, we tend to focus on certain aspects and exclude others. Take healthcare reform, for a recent example. When you think about healthcare reform, do you primarily think about how it will affect our society as a whole? How it will affect you personally? Do you think about the millions of uninsured and their plight? The people who die every day for lack of insurance coverage? Do you dwell on the cost of reform? The economic ramifications? Do you think of it as a policy problem? An ideological issue? You get the picture.
My preoccupation has led me to view what I read in a different way. When I’m reading an opinion piece, for instance, I think about what the columnist is *not* saying — what arguments and counter-arguments they are *not* addressing. It’s sort of put me off politics and politicians in general, to be honest. It affects my fiction reading too. In fiction, areas of interest are doubly interesting, because you have not only the protagonist’s areas of interest, but the writer’s as well.
Anyway…. With the above in mind, here’s a quote from a recent article about Eliot Spitzer:
I made an egregiously horrendous judgment at every level,” he adds. “Not just in terms of the risk/reward calculus, which seems like a very antiseptic way of thinking about it, but also in terms of what it meant to my family. I talk all the time about fiduciary duty. What more fundamental duty is there than to a spouse?