Every time I flip through an L. L. Bean or The Company Store catalog and start to surrender to a world demanding no more of me than to juggle price, size, and color, a scene from Seinfeld comes to mind. Elaine is lying on her bed, thumbing through a Hammacher Schlemmer–y catalog, and considers purchasing “The World’s Best Pizza Cutter.” “Seventy-six bucks, how often do I make . . .” she says—and then, with revulsion, “Oh, I’ve gotta buy a book!” She doesn’t actually run off to buy one, but her reading life’s shrinkage to ad copy and product shots is made depressingly clear. (After all, Elaine’s