World enough and time.
Ooh, bait and switch, tricky.

What do you suppose I like about it?

A word about the post title today: A long time ago I read a book by humorist Jean Kerr, who wrote books in the 1950s and whom, for some reason, I find hilarious and totally love (she's best known for her bestseller Please Don't Eat the Daisies). One of the things I remember about that book is the line drawings; in one, Jean and her husband are looking at a huge monstrosity of an ugly old house they're thinking about buying, and the caption is, "What do you suppose we like about it?" I think of that line frequently, when I like something but I have no idea why (which happens surprisingly often).

I know. My brain is filled with things like captions from books published in the 1950s. Is it any wonder I can't remember how to do simple math, family members' birthdays, and gifts my mother-in-law gave me last Christmas*?

Beg So here's today's review that isn't really a review: I picked up Michael Greenberg's memoir Beg, Borrow, Steal: A Writer's Life, and read it through in about two nights. For most of the book, all I could think was, I don't know if I like this. But then I couldn't put it down. It's meant to be the memoir of Greenberg's life spent as a writer--and I do mean as a WRITER--it's the only thing he really ever wanted to do and he set about doing it no matter what it took, even when it took selling cosmetics on the street in the Bronx and driving a cab. For most of the book, I can't even say I liked Greenberg all that much--but yet I really did enjoy this one, in a weird sort of way.

So what do you suppose I liked about it? Read it and let me know, wouldja?

*This last one can get a little awkward at times, like when your mother-in-law says things like, "oh, you have a 9 x 13 baking pan," and I say, "No, I don't," and she says "I gave you one last Christmas." D'oh! (I did find it in the cupboard eventually; who knew?)