By midnight we should have another nine inches on the ground here in eastern Norfolk County, according to the weather people. The question on my street? Where do you put it? I could ascribe my grumpiness and inability to tap out the final few pages of a writing project to the snow, but this aggravating, though minor, production slowdown is really because I've been working so furiously over the past few weeks and I'm at the end of my tether. Solution: Leisure Time. I keep talking about it, but where is it?

And here it is, the object of my leisure time desire, hot off the presses, Little Fugue by Robert Anderson, now being reviewed in most major newspapers. Anderson is a past winner of the Flannery O'Connor Award for his short fiction. Publisher's Weekly chose Little Fugue as its editors pick of the month. The character Robert Anderson appears to be the author himself, a writer in New York, whose path keeps crossing with the people Plath knew best. So far I've read a few pages from the middle, and the voice and language are haunting and are mystifying me enough so that I can't wait to give it my full attention.