"I read the first half of Jesus' Son last night," my girlfriend says.

"How do you like it so far?" I ask.

"It's pretty good."

"Yeah. I love that first story."

"I think you just like stories about car crashes," she says.

"What?" I ask, thinking, But I never even finished that Ballard book. "What other stories about car crashes do I like?"

"Oh, I don't know," she says, in a tone that suggests I'd forget my own name if she asked me what it was, "maybe Interstate? Which is one of your favorite books ever? Which is basically an entire novel about car crashes?"

"Oh, yeah."