Well, she’s endlessly contradicted herself throughout, hasn’t she?
Her SM depicts a capering, leaping, planking husband while her books depict an adorably monetisable leg-dragging, trembling, exhausted, forgetful, dying one.
Her books and press presence present them as (1) a farmer and mystic of the coastal wilds and (2) a wild-nature-attuned ecowarrior who believes mountains call to him, whereas the evidence suggests they are in fact ill-prepared holiday campers and hobby farmers, with more interest in buying flash cars and French property than in the natural world. certainly no evidence of any eco credentials, interest in preserving habitat or biodiversity, climate change etc.
SW likes to think of herself as a sort of shy woodland creature forced unwillingly to ‘do PR’ for a book she only wrote as an aide-memoire for a dying spouse, but for a shy woodland creature, she doesn’t half put herself out there in the media, not to mention her side hustle as a whispery shuffle-dancing voiceover for Gigspanner. And of course the ‘I only thought my daughter meant to put it in a ring binder’ thing is nonsense. She wrote it to sell, every bit as much as HNTDDD.
Plus the adorableness is contradicted even within TSP, by the strand of ill-concealed misanthropy and entitlement.
Every book reveals something the author didn’t intend to say. I can see evidence of a novelist friend’s anxiety in all her books. What is evident in all of SW’s writings is the (1) presumption of their own underdog status, even when she’s depicting two rich people taking a four-month holiday in LL and has to work terribly hard to not let this be too obvious, (2) that other people just do not understand their pain, and (3) an entrenched distrust and dislike of others, particularly women she considers powerful.