I call them orphans. Books you wanted, bought, and then remained unread. Migrated from the bed table to the floor where it gathers the great dust bowls of the prairies. The spine sneers at you, winks at you, wonders why you abandoned him. And you have no good answer. You become the guy who fucks you and never calls back. Why? Why?
That book, for me, on this vacation, was Not That You Asked by Steve Almond. Its bright red spine is like a gash. I bought it a writer’s conference a few years ago because I heard him read and thought he was hilarious. I even love the cover — another part of the great mystery why I orphaned it.
I’m reading it now and loving it. Laughing out loud. It’s all about voice and the particulars of an unquiet mind. What book have you orphaned and why? Why?
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