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Dwight GarnerTheirs is a lonesome, literate, borderline-funny duet: a platonic "Baby, It's Cold Outside" as sung by two grizzled wordslingers with more arrows in their hides than St. Sebastian. Both men may open up in Public Enemies about how they've been wounded by their critics, yet both are defiant. Their book is impossible to read without recalling this J. D. Salinger observation in Seymour: An Introduction: "A confessional passage has probably never been written that didn't stink a little bit of the writer's pride in having given up his pride."
—The New York Times