One more from Hornby…

October 18, 2012

“…I seemed to have developed some kind of old-geezerish resentment of story collections. Is that possible? Is resentment of short fiction a sign of aging, like liver spots? And if it is, then why? As the end of one’s life draws closer, surely one should embrace short fiction, not spurn it. And yet I was extremely conscious of not wanting to make the emotional effort at the beginning of each chapter, to the extent that I could almost hear myself grumbling like my grandmother used to. “Who are these people, now? I don’t know them. Where did the other ones go? They’d only just got here.” ”

It’s funny, but there’s also something perfectly reasonable and honest in his discussion of the emotional effort that goes into reading fiction. I love it. And Kiirstin, this might not be one for your (I’m assuming) age-spotted book club.

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Dead On.

October 17, 2012

From Nick Hornby’s new collection of essays from The Believer:

“Three of the presents my friends had bought me were book-shaped, and, miraculously, given the lack of deferred gratification in my book-buying life, I wanted to read them all, and didn’t own any of them.”