Kick-started my campaign to get some proper reading done by buying a few popular titles cheaply at the little second hand bookshop at Holland Village to provide the necessary roughage. Wanted to be reminded of the power of stories just as stories, so started with Stephen King's Full Dark, No Stars, (great title!) the most recent of his quartets of long short stories. Am now most of the way through story number two, a humdinger entitled Big Driver, and can hardly wait to find out what happens next. (Story number one, entitled 1922, was fairly predictable stuff in Kingian terms, and fairly predictable was perfectly fine by me.)
Lit critic Harold Bloom loathes our Stevie. I've never been able to figure out why.
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