I’m looking out the sliding glass door at the San Francisco skyline. I am sitting on on my futon. The summer fog drifts from the sea to the bay. Sometimes the fog is high and covers the tips of the city. Sometimes the fog lays thick over the buildings and the highway seems to vanish into haze. And for some reason, I happened to think about S.E. Hinton. S.E., first of all is a woman. You probably don’t know this. But she is. S.E. Hinton has written some of the most gritty fiction ever put to paper. Her book chronicles lust, violence, anger, rage, isolation, and angst in a thoroughly authentic manner.