Sometimes I like to read criticism about authors as I read their books. Thanks, Chicago Public Library! John Irving, while one of my favorites, is definitely not someone who requires much criticism, as proven by this little volume. There's not as much to parse in his novels as in those of, say, Pynchon or Nabokov (previous entries into this pantheon of writers I read about), but I enjoyed this.
Turns out I can read his criticism faster than his actual novels.