The fate of literature has always been uncertain. In recent times the path seemed secure, guarded by Updike and Barnes & Noble totes. Then, disaster struck. Publishers crashed their Mercedes, agents sold their leather blazers. Inside the tragedy from within Oprah’s private chambers.
Shadow governments, merging powers, churches and children: It’s no secret that power breeds concealment. Yet behind the veils of rhetoric, simple men and women are simply doing business, PowerPoint and all.
I’m fingering bath balls like Captain Queeg. Mom’d prefer the, the what, the Serenity, maybe? Or the Sandalwood Rejuvenation? Or better yet just go for the pre-wrapped basket with the goat’s milk soap and lavender sachet? Joshua Allen decks the halls.
