Bookish people drolly claim to be addicted. I think, in some cases, this is literally true. . . . I suppose this makes me a small-time pusher, holding a couple of capsules of a novel compound, looking for vulnerable readers for whom it might turn out to be habit-forming. There's enough of them. When I walk into a bookshop--one of the big ones, a vast dispensary stacked with complex uppers and downers--I can't help thinking, my God, what army of junkies is all this feeding?