
A book that you’re wading through is like a bad boyfriend who eats all your time and never pays his way. And I’ve decided from this day forward I’m kicking him out. I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but you don’t come here for fluffy love, do you?
I found myself saying something utterly woeful the other day. I was describing a book I’d read to a friend. “I think it’s for men,” I said to her. “I mean, it was good. But it didn’t grab me. So I think it was probably written for men.” To my credit, I whacked myself in…