Waiting for April, by Scott M. Morris (Algonquin, 352 pp., $24.95)
“THERE’S nothing to read,” you sometimes hear. All the good literature is in the past, and what we have today is trash or pretension. Well, that’s not true. I could give you a list—if not a terribly long one—but for now I’ll simply alert you to Waiting for April, the second published novel of Scott M. Morris.





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