Speaking of Rudman, come to think of it, while he's ok at the shorter forms he's got a gift for dialogue:

“Once I went to live with my father, it was all over.
My Dad did nothing but criticize.
He flogged me with newspapers if I came home
after midnight from a date.
And I was terribly shy to boot,
was terribly self-conscious about my breasts,
and my thin hips and legs made them protrude all the more.
And so I walked hunched over.
Men are lucky that they don't have to carry this—weight.
If I'd been a boy, at the very least he would have allowed me
to go to college.”

“You should have insisted.”

“About college? Oh sure.
That would have taken more courage than I had.
I wasn't the only one, a lot of powerful men
were afraid to stand up to Dad.
No one could argue with him.
He'd done everything, and knew everything.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“That's easy for you to say.
Because I got you away from him in time.”

“You wanted your father's love.”

“Oh, I'm sure I did. And there was no one
to dissuade me. Only Bert took my side.
When he saw me pasting labels on perfume bottles
he said, 'this is no kind of work for my Marjy.'
And that's how I escaped that prison.

At least I got a good education at Julia Richmond
High. We probably learned more
than the kids learn in college today.

(Pause.)

Like how to read and write.
Add. Subtract. Multiply.
Oh Julia Richmond was a fine school.
A public school for girls was a giant
step toward equality.
Do you know who graduated
around the same time as I did?”

“Who?”

“Betty Bacall and Judy Holliday.”

“And Patricia Highsmith.”

“I wasn't aware of that; I thought she was a Texas girl.”