So, somewhere out there there is an author who must really not like me.
One of the perks of having an unusual name--a name that you have to initially repeat three times and then subtly drop into conversation in order to remind people as you know they cannot remember it--is that you get a gmail account with your name on it. Nope. Did not happen.
And yet people really close to me, family included, send email to priyaparmar@gmail and this is not me. Whoever that Priya is, she has received attached documents up to 600 pages (my book included as well as my doctorate), emails about the dentist, the beach, the Honda, the birthday party, the bonfire at the beach, my friend Tora's haircut, the centipede in my brother's room, a broken toe and every other type of email that you really do not want other people to see. I do not blame my family and friends for doing it as I have done it myself. The funny thing about email? You cannot get it back.
There is also an author called Priya Parmar. She teaches at Brooklyn College and writes books about troubled urban youth. I have a horrible creeping suspicion that the Priya of the gmail and the Priya of the youth in revolt are the same Priya. In which case that Priya must really not like me as Goodreads has now conflated our profiles. I am listed as having written four books--three with ferocious looking teenagers on the covers and one with Nell in a lovely Restoration dress. I have also been rated with three stars on a book that no one has read yet.
I love Goodreads! I love the very fact that Goodreads exists let alone the wonderful Seussian book smorgasbord feast that it actually is. And yet this morning I had to write them a tiny note asking if they could disentangle the dual Priyas. I felt terrible!