Back from a week’s Thanksgiving vacation in California. Read a woeful 9/11 novel by Jess Walter called The Zero. My wife and I took the nieces and nephews to Borders for the annual Thanksgiving book-buy. (In lieu of Christmas gifts.) I enjoy the event, probably because it places me in the position of house authority on books. My niece Laura picked out William Trevor’s Story of Lucy Gault on my recommendation (she said that she likes novels in which characters face family crises), and my nephew Paul accepted Johnny Tremain. (His mother is a historian of colonial America. I suspect that the choice was a compromise.) I found myself at sea, however, when my nice Hannah wanted a recommendation for another writer like Stephanie Meyer. I had never heard of Stephanie Meyer! What kind of literary snob am I!