Again

“It’s the third Sunday of the month,” says I to Wifey. “Isn’t that your Book Club Zoom day?”

“Yes ... at 2 o’clock.”

“What’s the book this month, Sweetie? Anything good?”

“We’re reading OLIVE AGAIN ... by Elizabeth Strout.”

“Why? Didn’t you finish it last month?”

“What?”

“Why are you reading it again?”

“We’re not reading anything again. The title is OLIVE AGAIN. It’s the sequel to her first book called OLIVE KITTERIDGE. It’s about a retired school teacher who lives in Crosby, Maine.”

“Wait a minute. She wrote two books about this Olive woman, and the best title she could come up with for the sequel is OLIVE AGAIN? Not very imaginative.”

“Well, it’s a New York Times Best Seller is all. She’s an excellent story teller.”

“I’m sure she is, but the title could use some work ... is all I’m sayin’. What if Mark Twain had titled Huckleberry Finn, TOM SWAYER AGAIN. What if Thomas Wolfe wrote a book titled YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN AGAIN. It’s just not very punchy, you know? But for a retired school teacher in Maine, about right, maybe.”

“Why don’t you find out about it before criticizing? You’re just being ignorant again.”

“You mean ‘ignorant again again’ I suppose.”

“Right again ... again!”