Chapter Twenty One
After dinner, Andrea went to the reading room. Like the cafeteria, it was a place where she wasn’t confronted with s****l challenges or demands. People just sat reading. At most, hands drifted discreetly into pockets.
The novels she used to love no longer held her interest. The heroines—invariably poor but smart and ambitious and beautiful—now seemed childish. The s*x scenes, which not so long ago had seemed so daring and fascinating, now bored her.
And she could no longer tolerate the women's magazines. The articles—on s*x, on relationships, on how to make yourself attractive to men—seemed insipid and childish. She’d started reading nonfiction.
Some people looked up at Andrea when she walked in, then returned to their reading. Andrea found the book she was currentl
