I am, I confess, something of a hypocrite. As a self-published author, I naturally harbor a constant hope that readers will be willing to take a chance on books like mine. On the other hand, being a slow reader with a finite lifespan, I generally only read books that have come highly recommended, either by... Continue Reading →

Only once before, I think, have I finished a 500+ page book and discovered I could not easily describe what it was about. (That was David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest.) But it has just happened again, with the odd faerie-tale Little, Big by John Crowley. I chose the book on the strength of multiple recommendations (and... Continue Reading →