Robert Kennedy was a figure who lived in the public eye, synonymous with political legacy. Born into a family of considerable political influence, he carried the weight of being President John F. Kennedy's brother and emerged as a presidential candidate himself when Barthelme penned "Robert Kennedy Saved from Drowning." The story poses an intriguing question: How well do people truly understand this man?

This question is layered with complexity, because it fails to specify the type of insights people seek. Political enthusiasts, weighing their decision to support Kennedy's presidential bid, yearn for information rooted in the public sphere. They are eager to unravel his domestic and foreign policy stances—his views on the Vietnam War, civil rights, and the death penalty. Yet, these pressing issues are conspicuously absent from the narrative, boiled down to a mere reference to "matters" in the segment titled "Matters (from an Administrative Assistant)." Indeed, Kennedy's public persona scarcely breaks the surface of the narrator's account. In "With Young People," he strides through the streets, donning his public facade. Yet, after a brief introduction, his presence fades, leaving his impact on the youth—his key supporters—unexplored. The narrator only observes the assembly of young onlookers, noting their possessions and their gaze, devoid of any reaction to Kennedy himself. The story offers even less on policy matters. In "As Entrepreneur," the narrator glosses over escalating costs related to the North Sea pipeline, with Kennedy attributing it to "exceptionally difficult rock conditions," an observation anyone could make. In "K. on His Own Role," where a policy declaration might be expected, Kennedy speaks of the necessity for "careful, reasoned, and intelligent action" on global issues. Yet, his vague mention of "In Latin America, for example" leaves the true nature of the issues shrouded in mystery.

On the opposite end of the scale lies the enigma of his private sphere. Defining what constitutes privacy is equally challenging, though the narrator offers glimpses into this domain. Most notably, a dream sequence unfolds in four images—an unreliable measure of understanding an individual, as dreams scarcely reveal the inner workings of one's mind. A deeper connection would require access to his innermost thoughts, yet the narrator deliberately refrains from entering Kennedy's psyche. The closest insight comes through Kennedy's own words, which echo the hollow nature of his public policy remarks when it comes to his private affairs.

Perhaps the most revealing territory lies in the intersection of his public and private personas, a space the narrator navigates with more precision. Here, we find the essence of his interpersonal relationships, shaped by the perceptions of friends and acquaintances. This realm is riddled with contradictions—secretaries recount his selective memory, his whimsical inquiries about misplaced shirts, his restaurant orders. An old teacher describes him as compassionate. He holds steadfast beliefs—anchors remain anchors, steadfast and unyielding. His children weep. This mundane middle ground, nestled between Kennedy's public and private selves, is so unremarkably human.

Ultimately, the line between public and private blurs into this ordinary middle ground. Robert Kennedy transcends the mythic hero some imagine and the reclusive individual others envision. In truth, he is, like anyone else, a person navigating the everyday complexities of life. How much do people truly know about him? The answer: as much as they comprehend about themselves.

In a captivating segment of the narrative, K. delves into the notion of the Marivaudian Being, an intriguing hypothetical persona that exists solely in the eternal now, devoid of both past memories and future aspirations. Conceived by the imaginative French writer Poulet, this character draws inspiration from the theatrical works...