May 31, 2026 · 1 hr 1 min · 20 segments
We want to believe our lives can be changed by the ideas contained in a book. Visit thisamericanlife.org/lifepartners to sign up for our premium subscription. Prologue: When Alexa was seven, she…
Ira GlassHost
Megan DaumGuest
Alexa JungeGuest
David SedarisGuestRoger WendickGuest
Jeremy Goldstein
Marion CramerGuest
Doug EricksonGuest
Tim SullivanGuest
I found the book hidden in the woods beneath a sheet of plywood, its cover torn away and the pages damp with mildew.
I read, "Brock and Bonnie River stood in their driveway, waving goodbye to the Reverend Hasselback.
Tell those two teens of yours, Josh and Sandy, that they'll make an excellent addition to our young person's ministry.
The Rivers chuckled, raising their hands in another wave."When the reverend's car finally left the driveway, they stood for a moment in the bright sunshine before descending into the basement dungeon to unshackle the children.
[jazzy music] The theme of the book was that people are not always what they seem.
Highly respected in their upper middle class community, the Rivers family practiced a literal interpretation of the phrase, "Love thy neighbor." Limbury's gymnasts, these people were both shameless and insatiable.
Father and daughter, brother and sister, mother and son, after exhausting every possible combination, they widened their circle to include horny sea captains and door-to-door knife salesmen.
Yes, these people were naughty, but at the age of 13, I couldn't help but admire their infectious energy and spirited enjoyment of life.
[jazzy music] The first few times I read the book, I came away shocked, not by the characters' behavior, but by the innumerable typos.
Had nobody bothered to proofread this book before sending it to print? In the opening chapter, the daughter is caught fondling her brother's keck in the dining room.
On page 33, the son has sex with his mother, who, we are told, possesses a fond power of tots.
I showed the book to my sister Lisa, who tore it from my hand saying, "Let me hold onto this for a while." She and I often swapped babysitting jobs and considered ourselves fairly well-read in the field of literary pornography.
"Look in the parents' bedroom beneath the sweaters in the second drawer of the white dresser," she'd say.
We'd each read the story of O and the collected writings of the Marquis de Sade with one eye on the front door, fearful that the homeowners might walk in and torture us with barbed whips and hot oils.
"We know you," our looks would say as the parents checked on their sleeping children.
"We know all about you." [jazzy music] The book went from Lisa to our 11-year-old sister Gretchen, who interpreted it as a startling nonfiction expose on the American middle class.
Just last week, I saw Heidi sticking her hands down Steve Junior's pants." "The guy has two broken arms," I said.
"She was probably just tucking in his shirt." "Would you ask one of us to tuck in your shirt?" she asked.
I found the book hidden in the woods beneath a sheet of plywood, its cover torn away and the pages damp with mildew.
I read, "Brock and Bonnie River stood in their driveway, waving goodbye to the Reverend Hasselback.
Tell those two teens of yours, Josh and Sandy, that they'll make an excellent addition to our young person's ministry.
The Rivers chuckled, raising their hands in another wave."When the reverend's car finally left the driveway, they stood for a moment in the bright sunshine before descending into the basement dungeon to unshackle the children.
[jazzy music] The theme of the book was that people are not always what they seem.
Highly respected in their upper middle class community, the Rivers family practiced a literal interpretation of the phrase, "Love thy neighbor." Limbury's gymnasts, these people were both shameless and insatiable.
Father and daughter, brother and sister, mother and son, after exhausting every possible combination, they widened their circle to include horny sea captains and door-to-door knife salesmen.
Yes, these people were naughty, but at the age of 13, I couldn't help but admire their infectious energy and spirited enjoyment of life.
[jazzy music] The first few times I read the book, I came away shocked, not by the characters' behavior, but by the innumerable typos.
Had nobody bothered to proofread this book before sending it to print? In the opening chapter, the daughter is caught fondling her brother's keck in the dining room.
On page 33, the son has sex with his mother, who, we are told, possesses a fond power of tots.
I showed the book to my sister Lisa, who tore it from my hand saying, "Let me hold onto this for a while." She and I often swapped babysitting jobs and considered ourselves fairly well-read in the field of literary pornography.
"Look in the parents' bedroom beneath the sweaters in the second drawer of the white dresser," she'd say.
We'd each read the story of O and the collected writings of the Marquis de Sade with one eye on the front door, fearful that the homeowners might walk in and torture us with barbed whips and hot oils.
"We know you," our looks would say as the parents checked on their sleeping children.
"We know all about you." [jazzy music] The book went from Lisa to our 11-year-old sister Gretchen, who interpreted it as a startling nonfiction expose on the American middle class.
Just last week, I saw Heidi sticking her hands down Steve Junior's pants." "The guy has two broken arms," I said.
"She was probably just tucking in his shirt." "Would you ask one of us to tuck in your shirt?" she asked.
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