One of the things I really like about living with Larry is that he often reads to me. When we were first together he did this a lot. I must have heard a good third of Ellman’s biography of Joyce the first summer we were together, Larry reading while I cooked.
Yesterday, over a breakfast of potatoes, zucchini, onion, garlic, and kale from the garden, fried and topped with poached eggs, he read an excerpt from an interview with Malcolm Gladwell, who was asked what literary character he would like to meet: