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My troubled relationship to the greater part of current fiction

Wednesday, April 16th, 2008

Every few years I get it into my head that I should feel bad for not reading more modern fiction.

Beside the computer is a stack of I don’t know how many modern efforts I gave every effort to. Perhaps I chose badly. Perhaps most recent fiction is largely crap. Perhaps I am hopelessly prejudiced against it. Impossible to say which is true, quite possibly, they all are.

Well, one of the cats sent the pile cascading onto the hardwood floor earlier today — thus reducing their resale value due to slightly dinged corners — and I chose to take this as a sign from the gods. Write short reviews and have done with them, say the gods. Who am I to argue? Besides, I’m plain old tired of looking at a huge wobbly heap of disappointments.

So, bunched together or individually,  I’m going to do a series of mini-reviews; then I can trade them in at my favorite second-hand bookshop and get something good.

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