Some years back the woman who would become my second mother-in-law pressed a small volume into my hands at Christmas. “I haven’t read it, but she’s Clifton Fadiman’s daughter, so it must be fabulous. You do know Clifton Fadiman, don’t you? ”
Truth be told, I didn’t and probably escaped with some pithy, honest remark that side-stepped the matter entirely. But she was right, the book, Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader, was fabulous.
And so I discovered Anne Fadiman whose books far too often end up as remainders.
As it turns out, I was already aware of Fadiman. I had merely, and uncharacteristically, failed to associate her name with the Continue reading