And so my summer reading begins.


Short. Bawdy. Hilarious. In other words, vintage Donleavy.

After I breeze through this, I’ll be attacking  A Singular Man. Reading (and in some cases re-reading) an ex-pat Irish-American novelist who’s not published a book in more than a decade is how I plan to prepare for my August trip to Scotland.

Geography has never really been my strong suit. Probably because I grew up just four hours south of Chicago and nobody in my family ever told me, let alone took me there.

Was that child abuse? Sometimes I think so.

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And so my summer reading begins.

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