A Year in Reading: Lauren Wilkinson
I didn’t read much during the first half of the year. Trying to finish up my own novel left me so exhausted, and at one point, so repelled by the creation of fiction that I could barely even look at a book. Which all seemed very much like something out of O. Henry: I’d started writing fiction because I love to read it and yet found myself unable to read because of what I was writing.
Funnily enough, the book that broke this curse was by . I picked it up because I aspire to project the appearance of self-possession—fake it until you make it, as they say. It’s a short book designed to
