Sometimes I read a book just because the title makes me snicker.

 

The above book isn't as snicker-inducing as I'd hoped. But I'm not finished yet. Meanwhile, Doug is reading Richard Ford's latest novel, Let Me Be Frank With You, featuring the NJ real estate agent Frank Bascombe. Doug alerted me to this snicker-inducing snippet from the novel:

 

Protagonist walking down a street sees a couple walking toward him;  he doesn't want to talk to them.

I'd rather jump in my watery basement hole than talk to them...How many old acquaintances, neighbors, former teachers, .. have we all caught a glimpse of in an unexpected place and dived in an alley rather than face for a second? All because (1) We don't want to; (2) There's too much unsaid that doesn't need to be said--a Chinese wall of words that would fall on top of us and we'd die; and (3) We know others feel the very same way about us.  We're, most of us, the last person anyone in his right mind wants to talk to on any given day, including Christmas.

That's a five- or six-snicker paragraph for me. I hope to read the book soon. But first I have to finish Gold by Chris Cleave for my book/dinner group next week. So far, I give it a meh. I hang in there with this group of seven nice women, even though I'm still annoyed, irritated?, that the book is usually discussed for only about 10 or 15 minutes. They talk mostly about food and cooking, their kids and parents, travel, work (just a little), health (ugh). I want to talk about the damn book. Excuse me.