If, a year or so ago, you were a gazelle-like, middle-aged, free-lance magazine journalist with corded forearms and an old pickup truck -- and quite a few of us and our trucks fit that description -- you had to wish that Robert James Waller had taken up a different hobby, ham radio or UFOs maybe, instead of writing itty-bitty novels. Because after The Bridges of Madison County hit the best-seller lists, with its weepy tale of 52-year-old photographer Robert Kincaid and fortyish Iowa farm wife Francesca Johnson meeting and spending four days in forbidden aerobics, then 25 years in noble renunciation,...
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