I do not truck with any burrito without heft.
If your burrito is convenient and portable, take it elsewhere.
I want a burrito that is burdensome. Unwieldy.
When I raise such to my mouth, I should feel the weight of the mistake I am about to make.
No child should be able to eat it.
— Author Unknown
I ordered my copy of John Scalzi’s Miniatures: The Very Short Fiction of John Scalzi when he wrote about it on 31 December. And then I immediately got sick (although I don’t think ordering the book had a hand in that). And then I forgot about it until today when it showed up in the post with all the usual junk mail and a few bills.
I opened up the big brown envelope from Subterranean Press with just Miniatures stamped across the front, and then beheld, in all its glory, Natalie Metzger‘s beautiful cover. Then I opened up the book and beheld The Scalzi’s signature writ large across the signing page. And that’s when I noticed that my copy is apparently “1” out of the 1,500. Unless, of course, all 1,500 were numbered “1”. Somehow I don’t think it is. In the meantime, until someone comes along and savagely pops this particular bubble, I’ll bask in the glow of having the first of something, anything, in my life. It adds just a bit to the reading.
The book is full of what appear to be a nice collection of short stories, the kind I’ve always enjoyed reading, but that appear far to infrequently in print by any author, not just John Scalzi. I have read the first two so far, slowly, individually, savoring each one, like individually wrapped Belgium chocolates. When I’m done I’ll write a “proper” review.