Not entirely true. I don't have a novel.

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I was being kind of a wiseass there (and seriously, I don't have a novel)--though I'm no stranger to crushing sour grapes. You have paid me the compliment of giving my crack a better response than it deserved. And I agree with your point.

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To me, hating on Eggers, and everything he's accomplished -- even if it's not all of equal quality -- is the litmus test that singles out People Whose Primary Entertainment Is Finding More Things To Hate.

Seriously, save it for the real literary phonies. I don't think there's a shortage of those around.

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Name names, please. I need a prompt.

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Then there's the whole fraudster set represented currently by James Frey (whose books I actually like, though).

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Old school and insiderey! I like it.

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I, however, enjoy my fair share of cliche authors, so to each his own. No hate, just love.

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I am over 35, so I am free to loathe his work with a clear conscience and am never presented with a dogeared paperback and urged to give him another chance.

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An amphibian attack. Possibly the most annoying music video ever made.

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Thus, I think the more accurate image taking in the northern German, Lutheran mentality would be that the young, divorced chap falls out of love in two years, silently carries a heavy burden in his breast for the love that he has lost and sees the cooties as a sort of punishment for falling out of love with her. He would still stay with her for as long as he lived because he made an oath before her and the community, but he would probably take up some hobby where he could spend more time away from home.

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Fichtelgebirge, eh? That is really Hicksville. Whenever I'm over in Europe, I try to stay in the major cities or university towns. Munich's nice.

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