Crazy Train . . . of thought!

Trollope's novel RACHEL RAY came up a couple months ago at a brunch—an elaborate story told by our friend M., involving in-laws and Bookfinder and Fire Island. We didn't know RACHEL RAY from CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?, and immediately our thoughts went to bestselling cookbook author and diminutive Food Network deity Rachael Ray. (Diminutive next to Emeril, at least.)

Another name mentioned at that brunch was Randi Rhodes, the Air America host. As I hadn't listened to A.A. (I *still* don't know where to find it on the dial), I thought at first that Ozzy Ozbourne's old guitarist, the laudably flashy Randy Rhodes, had turned into (or revealed himself as) a staunch liberal. That was the brunch of mistaken identities.

I bring all this up because the New York Times Book Review has scooped me. This past Sunday, Dwight Garner wrote a clever bit in which he compares Trollope's Rachel to the current flesh-and-blood one (or as I like to call her, *my* R.R.). Even better, the piece is headlined THE RACHEL PAPERS—still our favorite Martin Amis novel.

I'm sure someone's made the Randi/Randy joke already, but I thought I'd register the events of that distant brunch all the same. I should also note the unusual fact that both pairs of almost identical names share the initials R.R.

All this blogging has made me grow piqued—time, no doubt, for a 30-minute meal.