While I was running yesterday in the glorious weather (ha ha, I know) I came upon a woman walking her dog, a little cattle-dog mix-thing. Hyper but cute. The dog was desperate to come over to me and say hello, so I stopped and played with her for a minute. The woman started talking to the dog: "Yes! Yes! You like him 'cause he looks like your grandfather! Yes!" She then explained that she meant her father of course, like that made anything any better.
I felt . . . seasoned again this morning while pawing through the review carts, and remembering when a book about anorexia (Deborah Hautzig's Second Star to the Right) or lesbian mothers (some Norma Klein novel) was still cause for comment--and review--simply by virtue of its subject. So is it a good thing or a bad thing that books on such topics can now pass unremarked?