my favorite moment in new york last week. on the subway. this guy seated next to me reading Essays by Montaigne…. he kept looking over my shoulder as I was pretending to read History of the Thirteen by Balzac, but not really able to focus on it since i was hyper-aware that someone reading Montaigne was looking over my shoulder. finally, he turned to me and asked me if Balzac and Montaigne knew each other. And I tried to explain that one lived in the 19th century while the other didn’t… so it was unlikely they had met. i felt bad for the guy because he was under the impression that i knew what i was talking about.
that and the Ann Hamilton installation at the Armory were the high points of an otherwise disappointing trip. 
The Lost Pedestrian 
Somerset Maugham, in On Human Bondage, spoke of the compulsion some readers have to know which book someone else is reading. There should be a word for it. Are we to expect a review on History of the Thirteen? I’ve been writing on Balzac and will continue to do so.