Never let me review books again

By way of initial disclaimer, let me first say that my capacity for literary criticism does not extend far beyond saying "It's pretty good" or "It sucks." Or the much more frequent, "It's sitting unread somewhere in the Texas A&M bonfire-sized pile of other books I bought and never got around to reading." But, nevertheless, here goes. Because, friends and "next blog" button clickers, I have met my annual fiction-reading quota for 2006. That's right, I read a whole novel -- and not one of the "graphic" variety. All words. And now I'm gonna tell you about it.

In the disturbingly prison-like Terminal Two at Toronto's Hoser G. McToque Intrenatiounal Aeropourt last week, I finally picked up a paperback copy of Kazuo Ishiguro's Booker-Prize-nominated 2005 novel, "Never Let Me Go," about sad British children who were cloned for the purpose of donating their vital organs to rich people.

It's pretty good.