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The news this morning is that I woke up with the sense of having had a very strong and interesting dream, but the dream was actually a novel - Joshua Ferris's Then We Came to the End. I read it yesterday. I had expected the book to be a fun read, and it was, but it was so much more. I'll probably spend the rest of the day trying to squeeze out a few semi-literate paragraphs for Monday. For the moment, all I can say is: The Great Gatsby. Mr Ferris's novel is that good. Or so it seems, the morning after.


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