I'm coming to you live this week from a secure and undisclosed location. The reason? Well, it's hard being the current protege of the Godfather himself. Don Vito's been sending insistent e-mails (yes, he's taken to technology like a seal to salt water) telling me he'd be happy to "take care of" the competition for me. Also, I'd like an agent? His capo, Mr. Clemenza, has a sister whose boy would like to get into that racket. There was a lot more about the worthlessness of 15%, and about a real agent's anatomical rigging being worth much more than this paltry sum, but this is a family blog and sometimes the Godfather's words aren't fit for little ears.
So, I'm watching the workmen put up the twenty foot walls, with razor wire on the top, and figuring I'll have a bit of a reprieve from Don Vito, as I've specifically asked for no internet access. Instead, I'm reading a book which I adore and whose author is my new hero. (Don't tell the Don!)
I've got only a few pages to go and have been laughing and crying in equal measure. This guy, Gary D. Schmidt, can write. Once I'm done, I'm going to write a review and see if I can't sneak out to the local internet
Meanwhile, I'll leave you with the title, of which I feel even Don Vito would approve--though I'd have to spend time telling him it's not about laying waste on a Wednesday to the other "families". I wonder what the Godfather thinks about Shakespeare? (Yup, my main man, Billy S., figures big in this Am-azing novel...)