I’ve been informed that Lev Grossman has refused the fruit basket I tried to send him this morning. The receptionist at Time also refuses to accept it because it means “having to go downstairs,” an ordeal apparently as arduous as climbing Everest.
I don’t understand this, because I’m sure Lev would have shared some of the tasty fruit with the receptionist and they might have bonded. I’m positive that the basket would have been shared around the Time office, providing sustenance for many overworked arts journalists.
But no. It was not to be! Lev has refused! The fruit basket remains undelivered, alone, merely wanting Lev’s momentary companionship.
Thanks a lot, Lev!
[UPDATE: It appears that the company was wrong about Lev’s refusal. Lev has, in fact, received the fruit basket.]