Literary Red Flags

Life is too short for hallucinogenic prose

As long as I’ve had a conception of myself, I’ve classified myself as a reader. When I was a kid, we lived beside a highway and during the summer, I’d ride my bike on the shoulder, sweating in the Arizona heat, cars whoosing past me. The library was about a mile away and walking into the cold blast of air conditioning was one of my favorite feelings. I …