Having just finished a good work of fiction, the only read this year, I am inspired to share a paragraph. The book is Steve Martin's, the actor’s, latest novella titled “The Pleasure of My Company.” It is about a math-mastermind who falls in love with the unattainable girl next door.
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I didn’t know if Clarissa’s [unattainable girl of his dreams] gestures toward me were platonic, Aristotelian, Hegelian, or erotic. So I just lay there, connected to her at three points: her hand on my neck, my hand on her back, her hair brushing against my side. I stared at the ceiling and wondered how I could be in love with someone whose name had no anagram. (142)
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Wow. Isn’t it deep?
Now go get your copy.
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