The towering giant of horror, Stephen King, will now be thrilling us regularly with his updates on Twitter.
He’s, naturally, @StephenKing, and this is the best Twitter news I’ve EVAH heard.
This is the great flaw of any literary prize that attracts a great many entrants. If the net is cast wide enough to include the sleepers, the books from small presses and the ones nobody has heard of, then the haul is just about unmanageable. You could have fewer entrants, but in a way that makes the whole process even more arbitrary. Who decides? According to what criteria? And no matter how you arrange it, there’s something slightly absurd about the notion that in a year’s worth of books there is one that is readily identifiable as better than all the others. Better how? Says who?
I will read confessions of a National Book Award judge until the cows come home.
Decorate your house with strings of popcorn, boughs of holly, candles, even a gingerbread house. Search online for “Victorian paper ornaments” (like these lovely little women above) and print out your own!
Sing Christmas Carols. Hokey? Maybe, but once you start it’s hard to stop.
How to have a Little Women-themed Christmas? I’m onboard.
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