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I love Nick Hornby so much I get all tongue-tied trying to explain why, and end up just enthusing in what's probably kind of an embarrassing way. This books of essays is just as smart and funny and wonderful as The Polysyllabic Spree, both of which are collections of Hornby's reviews from "The Believer" magazine. Aside from being a great read in and of themselves, the essays have also given me some amazing recommendations for further reading, including books I'd never have heard of otherwise; Julie Orringer's How To Breathe Underwater is an excellent example. Another wonderful thing about this particular book (Hornby's, not Orringer's): the amazing introductory essay, which is all about reading and pleasure. Which seems kind of obvious, because isn't that what reading is all about? Except that I tend to forget that, and sometimes try to force myself to read things that are Good For Me. Which can be a good thing, sometimes, but Nick Hornby reminded me that we should really be getting joy out of 99% of our reading material. Otherwise, what's the point?