The Very Bad Book is done; it had some redeeming qualities, but not enough to make me forgive it for being 900 bloody pages long. I'm drafting a longer post about it, and I suppose for equipoise I'll write one about The Once and Future King as well.
But first, to cleanse my palate with Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, which I've been looking forward to more than any other book this year.
Literature, with the naughty bits
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