Sunday, December 04, 2005

Hey Lynda!

This one's for you:

"No one ever came to office hours except Rob Tway, who had always read something life altering and wanted to discuss its narrative arc and authorial stance and other issues of craft which I managed to avoid because I didn't really understand what craft was, frankly, and because I no longer read anything written after the Civil War. I endured these onslaughts only by reminding myself that someday Rob Tway would commit suicide."

--from the story "Appropriate Sex," in the book The Evil B.B. Chow and Other Stories, by Steve Almond (Algonquin, 2005)


Anonymous said...

That is the most beautiful thing ever written.
The other day Terry was watching that disaster movie where New York freezes over, and there is a scene where a bunch of kids hid in the NY library and start burning books to keep warm. He asked if it disturbed me.
I said, "No, and I kinda wish I could help."

dejamo said...

tee hee

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