Relax. It's summer. At the beach or pool, nobody judges you for reading a book with Fabio on the cover. Probably nobody even noticed that unread copy of The Corrections that's holding down a corner of your towel. If anything, you're being judged for that poochy little tummy you picked up last winter. Kidding.
Summer has a strange effect on the reading mind. Gone is any concern with literary respectability. Shed, any inhibitions about raw escapism. You get back in touch with the tiny Philistine who lives in your lazy, pleasure-loving little heart. Why fight it? We took a look at...
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