Charlie English begins “The CIA Book Club” by describing a 1970s technical manual: a dull cover, as uninviting as anything. A book that practically begs you to put it back on the shelf and move on.
Like the common cold, the reading slump and its symptoms will come to us all eventually. The pages don't turn as fast as they used to. The characters don't feel as relatable. The plots don't hit the ...
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