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McCoy-4

[[strikethrough]] My sister and I [[/strikethrough]] Most of us grew up with what my mother [[strikethrough]] she [[\strikethrough]] called "a taste for, the single book," but my oldest brother is still a set man. "Set's aren't what they used to be," he says, but he claimes he has bought only one that was impossible to plow through, "The Lives and Loves of Countess Someone of Other."

"I was ready to go hunting when the salesman came in, and I had to buy the set to get rid of him. I didn't want to alienate him," he explained.

The only time I ever got self-conscious about reading was when my eight grade teacher, impressed by the number of books I had read (you can get through quite a few in a year if you read every night) mapped me out a reading course. I was delirious at being singled out, and I started [[strikethrough]] [[illegible]] [[\strikethrough]] the list with "quo Vadis." It was the first book I didn't like. "The trouble was," my sister said, "you read it with your mouth shut. You usually [[strikethrough]] have [[/strikethrough]] keep it open when you read."

I gave up the list, and opened my mouth again [[strikethrough]] and went on reading reading [[/strikethrough]]. That was the winter we were reading "The Little Colonel"x books and Henry James.
  We all grew up with different reading tastes, different habits. My sister, a psychologist, reads a book a night; I dip into them from the back, and read one out of the ten that I start. She reads [[strikethrough]] sometimes [[/strikethrough]] by the page, [[strikethrough]] sometimes by [[/strikethrough]] or by the paragraph. I read by sentence, and if it's something I really like, I lip-read it a word [[strikethrough]] at a time [[/strikethrough]] by word. I suppose you could say that I have a reading problem.
  I have heard my mother express only one theory about