If you are like me, you have friends with whom you love to talk about books. Each gets excited about something he recently read and wants to share this experience with you. Often, you know how they think, and you respect their judgment. Sometimes they give you the book because they really want you to read it — and you feel an obligation to do so.
I still cuss Jay Spruill for recommending Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. He said, “It’s a beautiful book about a father’s love for his son.” We’ve been great buds since we were eight. Even though he went to that lady’s school in Chapel Hill, I still (or at least I did) trust his literary judgment. Damn that Spruill! That was positively the most depressing book I’ve ever read.
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