in which there is a party at last
in which it becomes clear that the author did, in fact, read marlowe's doctor faustus in preparation for this novel
in which the idea of writing a fifteen-page paper is dismissed out of hand
impromptu, unscheduled, spoiler-filled thoughts from a late-night screening
in which thing get, in their way, flirtatious
in which the author endeavors to get pink pony club stuck in your head
in which we return to intimacy on the elizabethan stage
in which there is a consequential production of lady windermere's fan
in which we meet marco, the most pretentious narrator this side of donna tartt
in which Ari chooses not to decide (and still has made a choice)
in which some are saved, and some are not
in which nudity is made much less sexy by the addition of invisibility paste
