As readers grow older, their tastes often become more rarified, more refined, more recherché.
Alliteration, however, is not rarified, refined, or that French word.
I make no moral claims for motherhood — which can bring out the worst in a person, in the form of vicarious rivalry, bitchiness, envy and even mental illness — but going through the ring of fire does change you and bring about a deeper understanding of human nature.
And so does doing everything else that is outside the status quo of your existence. Just because having a kid changes you, it doesn’t make you special.
Starting this Sunday, the “Books” section of the San Francisco Chronicle will publish The E-Reader, a monthly column devoted to e-books.
This will be interesting for about the next 20 minutes, when we have a new word for ebooks: “books.”
Critics gush in anticipation for books they haven’t yet read; they <3 so-and-so writer, tagging the author’s Twitter handle so that he or she knows it, too; they exhaust themselves with outbursts of all-caps praise, because that’s how you boost your follower count and affirm your place in the back-slapping community that is the literary web. And, of course, critics, most of them freelance and hungry for work, want to appeal to fans and readers as well; so to connect with them, they must become them.