He taps the book. “That’s the one to read.” “Why?” “Because I think this one has a character you’ll identify with.” “Unlikely.” I rarely identify with anyone. “He has highly specialized interests, is blunt to a fault, and may actually be more emotionally constipated than you.” “Give me that.” I look at the back of the book, scanning it. “Give it a chance,” Viggo says. “Reading a book is just like opening your heart to someone. You won’t know if you’ll connect until you try.”
