This is just out. Print edition of Quill & Quire in Toronto. It’s very nice but, of course, I wasn’t born under a rock. What is this constant mantra: the unknown Douglas Glover? Why is it that people can only remember that they have forgotten me? There is some deep phenomenological issue to be explored here. Or possibly a medical trend?
Re. the photo: This is one of set of photos taken during a writing class at Davidson College. I had assigned the class an exercise: write a sex scene. They were reading them out loud, hence the uncharacteristic expression of quizzical delight on my face. I learned things during that class that I never wanted to know.
All this is beside the point. You can pre-order my book at immense savings.
p.s. I like being called “scabrous.”