I thought I knew Jodi Picoult. I vividly recall reading one of her books, Chocolat, and feeling enchanted.
Only Jodi didn’t write Chocolat. That was Joanne Harris. I had no idea.
We sometimes relish something so far-fetched that it makes us believe that anything…
Don’t read this thinking I’m a cheerleader for the optimistic. I love speculating on the demise…