Writers who don’t, so to speak, pull off their britches when they write don’t write anything worth reading. It is good, in a pathetic sort of way, that so few writers do, so to speak, pull off their britches when they write. Otherwise, there would be far too much to read, and life is far too short.

But Chris Robinson has made a book that should be read. His honesty, what he has to say, and how he says it are enthralling. That is what makes this collection of columns more than just a bunch of writings strewn through the years and gathered together with binder’s glue. This is the real thing, a real book by a real writer.

That Robinson here speaks ill of one of my own books is as representative of his willingness to reveal his humanity in all its imperfection as it is of my grace and understanding, which allow me to write the words that I have here written. May we both be praised, not necessarily in alphabetical order.

It’s uncanny, very uncanny, that if you’re looking for a book about animation, you’ll find it here, and if, like me, you’re not, you won’t. I don’t quite know how this can be, but it is.

Nick Tosches