For the last 42 years my sister and her friend have grimly and grittily edited a little journal called The Book Review. Snobbishly, they only review academic books; and, cloyingly, children’s books.
I regularly steal books of both types from there. When I get caught they make me write a review. But often, I manage to avoid writing it by the oldest trick known to reviewers: Postpone till your pursuers give up.
Anyway, the other day while looking for some other book at home I found one I have no recollection of buying or borrowing. I had probably stolen it from my
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