George Guidall, reader.

Plagued by a debilitating, seemingly undiagnosable ailment, the great author Nathan Zuckerman is living out his middle-aged years on his back under the care of his harem. He can't write or type without spasms of pain shooting through his neck and shoulders, yet doctors by the hundreds are unable to offer an effective treatment. Could this pain be his penance for writing the indecent "Carnovsky?" Zuckerman ponders this as he puffs his joint before sipping vodka and downing his third Percodan of the morning.