There was a small rash of Carpenter tele-movies in the ‘mid-late ’80s, and I was once even asked if I wanted to end up like “that poor Karen Carpenter” because I refused to eat something.

It seemed to become popular to consider Karen Carpenter as proof positive of what could happen to you if you strayed too far from your parents’ sensible, wholesome ways.

Yet the Carpenter narratives seem geared to satisfying an audience that relishes devouring Karen’s really very basic demise – perhaps that is another sickness.