By this means she learnt their Christian names, Robert, and Lyle — the latter of which she admired very much, and thought it exactly suited the pretty, delicate younger brother.

Of all the people in the world to write a tell-all about The Lunch Club, it had to be Missy Adams?!

Reading Barron, though, I realized that part of the reason his stories leave me cold is that they assume, as too much genre fiction does, a highish level of reader credulity, and I resent it.

Each day was so like the day before, and Christmas Day, when it came, would not have anything to mark it from all the others.