That is, to be someone who received a kind of love in our formative years that was heavily dependent on our performance, not on our essence. It can be enough to make a mess of our lives, unless we realise – and get on top of – the dynamics.
“Given how pejorative the term is, we’re understandably keen to locate snobs somewhere far from us. They are the people in the newspaper, or the ones who live in the other part of town or went to the school we didn’t go to – but it’s nice not to imagine them too near to home.
Yet that’s to deny an obvious eventuality: snobs may lie closer to us. Snobs form couples; they have children. And we might be among them. However painful the unvarnished thought, we might be the children of snobs. It’s a situation it can be therapeutic to face up to and to try to make sense of…”
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