[W]hile other women may be able to fall back on the classic mainstays of nationality or religion when discriminating between potential suitors, as the dual-passported daughter of an interfaith couple, I've had to find less traditional ways to discriminate. And that is why, when making these important decisions, I turn to Don DeLillo.
You see, I could never learn to love a man who didn't appreciate White Noise, DeLillo's masterful satire and my hands-down all-time favourite book.
Jean, just for the record, I do appreciate White Noise. Liked it quite a bit, actually. But, uh, I'm taken. So, you know. I know I'm dead sexy and all, but you should probably stop calling me.
I'm lucky enough on the love front, in any case. My girlfriend and I share similar but not freakishly identical literary tastes. Like, we both dig on dead Russians. Though I think I'm primarily a Dostoevsky man, myself. I'm liking Anna Karenina very well this time through, though I'll readily admit I don't see it making my personal desert island Top Five list. Though I've also made it clear to my girlfriend she better bring her own damned copy of Infinite Jest on any cruises we go on, because I'm not about to share my copy, in the event of a sudden extended stay in the middle of the ocean.
Hey! Speaking of awesome segues, I must be a masochistic bastard, because I just this weekend made my girlfriend buy a copy of The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian. Here's to me vicariously reliving the spiritual crisis that book put me through earlier this year. (Not to say I didn't love that book, and not to say I'm not completely certain my girlfriend will love that book, but, you know. Ow.)
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