A review by nv6acaat
Independence Day by Richard Ford

1.0

PLEH. I slogged through The Sportswriter a couple of years ago, in preparation for this Pulitzer-winning dreck? There will be no more-vapid, more-self-absorbed generation of writers than the Babbitt-Rabbit-Bascombe generation. (Because our generation is so much more vapid than theirs, no one can bother to write the novelization. Dancing with the Survivor Island Idols is on, y'know. Writing is for losers. Duh.)