Someone clipped a tiny microphone on her lapel. The funky blues instrumental that Barry Manning used as his theme welled up. The audience clapped fiercely as Manning bounced into the booth. After some brief opening remarks, he mentioned that his guest would be “Dr. Jenna Sorrel, the renowned psychologist and best-selling author” and cut to a series of taped commercials.

While they ran, he showed Jenna the computer terminals. Each displayed the name, city, and interest of a call-in questioner already waiting to talk with Barry Manning. “I have the best screener in the business working the phones,” Barry said proudly. “Separates the wheat from the chaff. We tend to use the chaff.”

Jenna, surprised at the note of cynicism, shot him a glance, but the pale eyes showed only concentration. “OK. You ready?” “Yes.”

Courteney cued Barry and, holding up a copy of her latest book, Prisons of the Heart: Women in Denial, he reintroduced her as a best-selling author.

Jenna started to protest that, although her books sold well for scholarly works, they were hardly blockbuster best-sellers, but Manning was already off and running. “So, what is this book about, Dr. Sorrel? The domination of women by men? The abuse of women by men?”

“To some extent—and I certainly have written a number of papers on those subjects. But Prisons of the Heart explores questions I’ve heard so often, questions which seem to blame the victim: ‘Why don’t abused women leave the men who batter them?’ ‘Why don’t they just run away to friends or family—or even to a shelter?’ These are good questions, key questions, but what I’ve tried to show in my book is that there are no easy answers.

What I often hear from battered women is denial. Some cling to that position for years, either out of shame or fear or a combination of reasons. The fear, I might add, is certainly not invalid, not when we consider the violence perpetrated against women who have left their abusers.”

“Hmm. Let me ask you something, doctor. You’re obviously a very attractive woman—you don’t mind my saying that?”

“Not at all.” Some sort of trap being set, she thought.

“—Obviously very attractive, but I notice that there’s no photo of you on your book. In fact, I went to the bookstore and found that none of your books have a photograph of you. Isn’t that unusual for a well-known author?”

“A little unusual, yes.” If she could help it, Jenna never allowed herself to be photographed or videotaped. But even if Barry Manning had somehow learned that, he couldn’t possibly have learned why. Could he?

‘‘Is that a feminist statement? That people shouldn’t care what you look like?” Of course, he didn’t know. He was only trying to make some obscure point. “Actually, I’m one of those people who dislike having their picture taken.