Friday, September 05, 2003

I have written before about the tiresome Jonathan Franzen and his over-written cinder-block of a book, The Corrections. [No link; why should I encourage you?] If you can imagine someone even more self-absorbed and self-important, well, you might not be surprised to find it's the woman who was living with him while he scrawled his tome.

She's dying to tell you about herself.

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