To Each Our Own Hamlet.

Mr. Mcgregor's A Nasty Piece Of Work, Isn't He? Quite The Darth Vader Of Children's Literature.

I Collect Ex-boyfriends -- And More Than Five, At Last Count.

Who Do Readers Expect To See When They Pick Up This Book? Who Has Won The Most Troubled Romantic Lead At The Bookworld Awards Seventy-seven Times In A Row? Me. All Me.

I Loved Him, Officer. More Than Any Woman Ever Loved An Egg.

Reading, I Had Learned, Was As Creative A Process As Writing, Sometimes More So. When We Read Of The Dying Rays Of The Setting Sun Or The Boom And Swish Of The Incoming Tide, We Should Reserve As Much Praise For Ourselves As For The Author. After All, The Reader Is Doing All The Work - The Writer Might Have Died Long Ago.