I THOUGHT THIS WAS A DEMOCRACY. I would turn in time to see the ball in the net and Owen Meany descending-his hands still higher than the rim of the basket but his head already below the net, his feet kicking the air. Are you hungry? I asked him. What was the gossip? asked Randy White.
It was a full house; to my surprise, I'd seen many of the audience at earlier performances. You know what I mean, Katherine, Charlie said. He hated anyone who claimed to know God's opinion of current events. By the simple act of removing the first two joints of my right index finger, Owen Meany had enabled me to feel completely detached from my generation.
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