I'm reading a 1943 bookclub edition of
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn that I found at a thrift store for next to nothing. It still has a tattered original dust jacket with wartime propaganda on it. I can't believe that I have never read this gem of a book. I haven't gotten through 50 pages yet, and I love little Francie Nolan so much that it makes my heart ache.




I'm reading Beyond Laughter and am learning that Freud was an antisemitic misogynist.
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