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So this will not be a novelization. A novelization is a lesser thing. Just as the book is always better than the movie (with the exception of Truffaut’s one decent film, Tirez sur le Pianiste [1960]), the movie is always better than the novelization. There must be a term for what I am about to do. …

“The chair is hard. I feel it pressing into my buttock bones. The room is dark, musty. I feel anxiety. I want this movie to be great. I want it to change my life, both in the watching and in the eventual heralding. If it’s terrible, I have gained nothing. I am where I was. Worse off because time ha…

“Listen,” he continues, “I can help you. By putting you into a state of deep hypgnotic relaxation, I can help you access memories you feel certain are forever lost. You should know that in addition to working with alien abductees and past-lifers—both of which I believe in, by the way—I also work wi…

Again she nods. Again he’s fishing. Everyone knows something that begins with M. I’ve suffered a loss of my memory. There’s the M I’ve lost, putz.

“Michael?” he asks.

She nods. OK, that was good. But still, everyone knows a Michael. I know seventeen Michaels, four of whom died recently, two o…

Then, as if on cue, the voices start.

Muffled and distant they talk about Slammy’s. They tell me how good it is. They implore me to go there to eat. I worry I am going crazy. I become afraid to leave my apartment. As the lightbulbs burn out one by one, rather than buy replacements, I switch the …