The mention of the book’s title created a sudden stillness in the room. A snatch of poetry came into Todd’s head, some bit of Victorian English nonsense. There’s a breathless hush in the Close to-night. Todd had no idea what a close was, but tonight, in this room, there was definitely a breathless hush. And it was all for him.

“I’m going to begin tonight by assuming that not everybody has had a chance to read the book,” he said. “So, instead of standing up here and explaining the whole thing, scene by scene, I’m just going to read the opening pages. If that’s all right with everyone.”

The room nodded.

“Okay,” said Todd, and opened the book. “All My Colors, Chapter One…”

*  *  *

He finished the first reading. The audience was quiet, and for a moment, Todd thought he’d lost them, or maybe they just hated him and his book. But then he realized some people were smiling, and some were even crying, and then the room was swamped in a wave, that was exactly the right word, a rolling wave of applause, and cheering, and foot-stamping (and, of course, whooping from Whooping Guy).

“Wow,” said Todd. “I can’t wait to hear what you think of Chapter Two.”

Warm, relaxed laughter followed that remark, as though everybody in the room was an old friend. First we take Chicago, thought Todd.

“I’m kidding, of course,” he said. “I have no intention of reading the whole book. That’s your job. What I’m going to do now is—”

Todd consulted his notes. They were long, and detailed, and, if he was being honest, incoherent. He made a snap decision, and raised his eyes from the paper.

“Talk about stuff,” Todd said. “By which I mean, what this book is to me. Where it came from, how it came into existence, and how it fits into the world today.”

If there was one thing Todd was good at, it was talking. Which is what he did, and did it so well that some of the audience that night wondered how he was able to keep such a distance from his subject matter. Why, they might have said to themselves as they lined up for Todd’s autograph on their books, it was almost as if he was talking about someone else’s book.

Todd talked. And talked. And talked, until Leah looked in his direction and tapped her watch.

“Wow,” said Todd. “It seems I have gabbed away half the night. I better read my second extract.”

As he said this, he looked at Leah. She nodded back.

“What I’m going to read now,” said Todd, “is—”

He stopped, interrupted by a loud noise, like someone starting a motorbike.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m going to read—”

The noise leapt in volume, like someone was starting up a bike right there in the room. But nobody reacted.