I must apologize. All of my social networking energy has gone into troubling deaf heaven, asking why Minnesota has more than its fair share of elected nutjobs and why same nutjobs are mucking about in my world. (As you can see from my Facebook, my pleading began very early this morning.) Plus, yesterday I blogged about a file format and its implications for the future of my industry. So, I have very little to say today, my appointed blogging day. But I was just peeking at the Goodreads page for Brooklyn, Burning, and I saw this:

“There are approximately twenty-seven trillion books about kids who have it rough, kids who are on the street, kids who don’t get enough love, kids life treats badly.

“Even though I am not one of these kids, and never have been, most of these books read so false and middle-class-trying-to-be-down-with-the-poor I could scream.

“Brooklyn, Burning is not one of those books.”

It’s not a negative-as-in-bad negative review. It’s a negative-as-in-clever-use-of-negative-space negative review. I kinda like it. And judging from the other reviews, I’m not alone.