Out of all misery...

A friend of mine called me today, answering a question I had asked via e-mail, i.e. whether I should send him two books I had been reading lately, and he said he was grateful that I had thought of him, even though he wasn't all so sure that he'd be able to talk good about those two; and since he'd been forced to talk bad about so many books for quite some time, he'd be happier if he had the chance to read something he would be able to talk good about, which in these two cases was more than unlikely, since the one of them, "The White Tiger", seemed to be - at least this was what he was told by more than one reliable source - only some kind of bad copy of something far better, and the other one, another "Hornby" (and he pronounced the every letter pointedly as if talking about something really odd), would be talked about so good by amazon reviewers that you could only say 'oh, well', and that was about it, so therefore - and now he apologized to repeat himself - since he was not all so sure he could force himself to say anything good about those two, and since he could not bear it, at the moment, to read anything else he would have to talk bad about, he'd better be waiting in order to go for something really good.

© 2009