"One of the most powerful lessons I learned growing up in a semi-rural suburb...is that celebrities—and especially great writers, who to me were the most magical possible subclass of celebrity—were totally unreal super-beings with whom you had literally nothing in common.
"All authors existed in a Platonic fourth dimension of abstract verbal perfection (sometimes called “France” or “Russia”) where they never had to put up with subliterary indignities like being vomited on by carsick siblings or having their off-brand shoes mocked by bullies—and if they did suffer such things it would only have been by choice, as an experiment, so they could write prizewinning literature about it later.
"It was a big shock, then, to grow up and discover that this was not actually true."
-Sam Anderson, Nymag.com
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