There's no excuse, until you find one.

I listen to thrillers when I drive long distances—the sort of books people on twitter will trash, the same people who live-tweet the Bachelor or Love Island. But paperback thrillers? What trash. Funny that writers never give me shit for my taste in driving novels. Mention Jack Reacher around authors and they’ll giddily tell you when they discovered the absolute sugar rush of reading Lee Child explain the size of Jack Reacher’s hands. Are they melons or dinner plates, Lee?

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