From Jane, a fellow booksnob:

... no snobby book person will ever talk about a Danielle Steel novel and say, "You've got to hand it to her, she has good grammar."

Along the same lines, I have gotten to a certain point in Stiff and I just can't get any farther.

When I read, it usually begins with a meal, the book propped up against whatever I'm using as decoration on my kitchen table, and me trying not to get any food on the paper. Well, a few weeks ago I'd gotten the bit where she visits the University of Tennessee Medical center and mentions something about some(dead)one's fingernails. I don't know what she was going to say about the fingernails, because I couldn't even finish the sentence.

Since then, when I'm looking for something to read (even when I'm not eating), I look over at Stiff, and I experience an ever-so-slight feeling of repugnance that makes me look elsewhere.

Sometimes a vivid imagination is not an altogether good thing.