Books for the Well-Read Ancient Toddler

When I first went to school I rocked a Big Chief tablet with light-blue lines spaced an inch or two apart and a thick green pencil with an indestructible lead. Home was plywood housing designed for migrant tomato pickers that originally housed the onslaught of temporary workers the war industry demanded and now functioned as married students’ housing for the local State College. We didn’t have a car; we didn’t have a television; we didn’t have a bathtub; but we had a radio and we had a library card.

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The End of Publishing

I’ve told the story before and it’s true: One of my favorite professors at university announced to his class of aspiring young writers that Moby Dick is a novel; all the rest are just entertainments. While I agree with the sentiment of this, I might substitute Madame Bovary for the great white whale.

Yet there’s still a problem. Let’s face it, with few exceptions. all the rest are not really entertaining.

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