Essays

Here we are in February, the most romantic month of the year, when we present flowers, candy, and jewelry to our significant others. Even our insignificant others often receive greeting cards and kind wishes, while pet stores reliably sell out their entire stock of baby groundhogs (known as hoglets) well before the big day. Groundhog Day is universally recognized as the most romantic movie ever made, though year by year critics come ever closer to conferring that title on Godzilla Versus King Kong.

You might be surprised to learn that the groundhog is not a hog, that it is instead a woodchuck. You might be further surprised to hear that a woodchuck is a burrowing rodent. A rodent seems to be a curious choice to symbolize the most romantic day of the year. However, the experts who name things are a strange bunch, as witness the fact that they call a flightless New Zealand bird a “kiwi,” but also apply the word “kiwi” to the egg-size fruit of the Chinese gooseberry, which frequently results in confused lovers of dessert getting a lot of feathers stuck in their teeth.

As if Groundhog Day wasn’t enough to warm the hearts of the romantically inclined, February also encourages lovebirds to celebrate on Lincoln’s and Washington’s birthdays, which might be confusing to some but not to me; I drive a Lincoln and love it, and Denzel Washington has been my favorite living actor since Mississippi Masala, which is hugely romantic, though I’ll admit to seeing Man on Fire more often, like 38 times.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my novel, The House at the End of the World, which was published on 24 January. I will admit that it can’t be truthfully called a love story—unless you love having the bejesus scared out of you, in which case it is a fabulous love story available in hardcover, eBook, and audio.