Apparently I have only ever reviewed one of Nick Hornby’s books for this blog, and I said this about it: If Nick Hornby were a woman no one would give him two seconds of their time, but I suppose that is not Nick Hornby’s fault. As much as I want to like him, his books leave me feeling vaguely unfulfilled, like below-average vegetarian sushi. Ahahahahaha, that Past Jenny, what a bitch. But — yeah, that’s about how I would describe my feelings about Nick Hornby up until I started reading Funny Girl. I had previously read Juliet, Naked, A Long Way Down, and How to Be Good,…
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