I've been getting a lot of nice reader mail -- thanks to everyone who's written with kind words about the book. But so far only one reader has actually sent me a present. Bill, down in Tucson, wrote to say that he's a life-long lobster lover, and I think when he says "lover" he means he loves to eat them, because in the package with Bill's letter was just about the most intimate gift related to lobster-eating that an author can receive from a fan. The thing you need to know about Bill is that he's in the marketing business, and one of his clients is somebody called "Dental Concepts." And the dental-concept present Bill most generously sent was essentially a lifetime supply of these tiny little plastic thingies that would be really useful for picking between your teeth after chowing on lobster meat. I say "would be" because I haven't actually had a chance to try them after a lobster meal yet, despite the fact that on my summer book tour in New England I ate lobster approximately, well, too many times. As touched as I was to receive Bill's present I forgot to take it with me on the road, but I'm briefly back home in Boston and finally had a chance to check out Bill's plastic thingies a little more closely, and now I can at least attest to their excellent use in stimulating the gums while drinking a gin and tonic in front of the computer while trying to think of something to write. It's true that lobster meat is somewhat stringy and has the effect of jamming itself between the teeth (god forbid you eat corn on the cob at the same time), and Bill's picks seem like they'd be up to the job by appearance alone: each tiny device looks like a white plastic high-tech surgical implant that may even be capable of receiving radio signals to help dislodge lobster flesh. I'm slightly afraid. But as someone susceptible to periodontitis, I know my dentist will be pleased that I've finally brought a formidable weapon to bear against the ravaging effects of lobster meat.

Though no present was involved, there was also a charming and slightly disturbing letter from Elizabeth, who revealed (on a dare from several friends) that she and I have led parallel lives. I admit, I was surprised. How many individuals in this world have a toe in the New England lobster business, in Chinese language and politics, in Buddhist temples, in the study of organ transplantation, and in science journalism? I had thought the answer was one. Apparently, it's two. Elizabeth: are you real? Someday we'll have to meet.

So, if any of you wonderful readers were thinking of sending me presents, I already have enough toothpicks and an alter ego.