This is the one where I expose myself as a two-faced liar.
For far too long, I've stood at the fringes of conversation at parties, nodding along as if I've actually read Ulysses (or A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, or The Phantom Tollbooth, or whatever). I've gone to book festivals and looked fellow authors in the eye--without blinking--and wordlessly pretended I've read their books. I have prevaricated, fumbled, mumbled and bumbled my way through this reading life, chant...
Published on November 22, 2014 06:40