I've gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that I'll be able to go to Barnes and Noble on my lunch hour today and pick up a copy of Stephen King's new book.
I don't want to hear from anybody about this. I went to graduate school. I studied James Joyce and Gertrude Stein. And Faulkner. Lots and lots of Faulkner. During that time, I specifically remember vowing that one day I would read anything I wanted, without fear of ridicule. Unless I'm mistaken, it was smack dab in the middle of Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
That day is today.
The last time I was so desperate for a King book was in 1987, when the Tommyknockers was released. I got so lost in it that I had to call in sick, just so I could find out what happened.
Just letting you know, so you won't be all surprised and all when you get stolen content tomorrow.
photo, Zsuzsanna Kilián
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