Who was reading: An elderly lady who spent most of the train ride contorting the pucker of her mouth around a hard candy.
But what kind of candy was it: Beats me, maybe butterscotch? Old people like butterscotch, don’t they? That stuff is tasty. . . . And no, that doesn’t make me an old biddy—if anything is speeding up my early onset biddy-fication it’s the fact that I take Metamucil.
According to PW (via Amazon ): "As a sardonic morality tale of one man's self-willed disintegration, the impact is flattened by its elitist narrator's patrician tones." Zing!