ABSTRACT
I could wish the author and her book the best of luck, praising the actress. If I were a professional writer of epilogues – like the ‘peaceful’ spectators of one time – I would hold a glass in one hand and with the other lift the new volume in full view. I would caress the cover, speak easily about its good qualities and mention a little flaw in passing, just to give the impression of an objective assessment. By doing so I could stimulate readers to an informed and engaged re-reading, and maybe provide them with one of those sidelong glances that give the illusion of intelligence. I could well pose for one of those arm-in-arm photographs that show how well we understand each other, the author and I.
