Today I ran into Mrs. Abood, one of my high school English teachers. She's about as intelligent and cultured a person as I've ever met, and for some reason she seems to think the same thing of me. "Tell me," she began our conversation. "How do you feel about that Orhan Pamuk book, Snow? Nobody I know can finish it." I haven't read it or anything else by the recent Nobel Prize winner, and I told her so, all the while praying she wouldn't ask me what I am reading: Working Stiff: The Misadventures of an Accidental Sexpert.