Last night my gentleman friend came home with prezzies from the signing: a signed copy of Steve Almond’s new collection of stories, and the shmancy chocolate bar D got from the author for asking a question after the reading.

As a bit of lagniappe, having a new book prevented me from having to be seen on the train with the Margaret Atwood novel I started last night — this has to be one of the most god-awful Harlequinesque covers I’ve ever seen: