At the checkout, the woman asked me if I’d like to get a recommendation for a novel.
“Yeah sure,” I said. I was pretty excited about the idea because I thought they’d look at my purchase history and figure out something I might enjoy.
Instead she recommended Home by Marilynne Robinson, which was displayed on the counter right in front of me.
“Are you recommending that just for me,” I asked, “or you recommend it to everyone?”
“We recommend it to everyone,” she said.
What a sham! “I’m going to pass on that,” I said. “There really hasn’t been a good female novelist since Jane Austen.”
My son, who was standing next to me, added, “And even she was kind of boring.”