Unless you head into a bookstore looking for a specific title -- something you've read about or that's been recommended to you by a friend -- there's no way on earth for most hardcore browsers to avoid scanning the new-titles table. And then you're at the mercy of jacket copy, most of which is awful. To be fair, jacket copy is written by editors or their assistants who are in the unenviable position of having to sell something quickly. They're like those hapless screenwriters in "The Player" pitching ideas by describing them in terms of something else. ("It's 'The Gods Must Be Crazy' with Goldie Hawn as the Coke bottle.") Call it the "In the tradition of ..." syndrome. If it's a historical mystery, you can be sure "The Name of the Rose" will get a mention. Any coming-of-age memoir that recounts the author's childhood hardships will suggest "Angela's Ashes."

We'd all like to flatter ourselves that we're immune to advertising. The truth is that we're all willing to be suckered -- just not always suckered into buying. Too much of the time jacket copy creates impressions, often false ones, but impressions that stick. All of the jacket copy that follows is from actual books. All have, for one reason or another, caused me to put the book back in its place and look for something else. (Since I have no idea if any of these books are any good, I won't name them.)

Sometimes all it takes is a phrase -- "Like Humbert Humbert ..."; "One of this generation's freshest voices"; "A devastating X-ray of American culture" -- to make me feel as if I've read each of those books already. I'm also not likely to continue perusing anything compared to "The Catcher in the Rye"; any multi-culti narrative described in terms of spices or a stew; anything scientific or historical that feels the need to proclaim that it "reads like a thriller" (yeah, one that could safely be read aloud in the cardiac care unit); anything set in a French or Belgian village where wine, chocolate, truffles or some other food plays a major role; and anything with a variation on the phrase "That fateful/memorable/tragic/magical/faraway summer."

Picking up anything with those words printed on its flap is like channel flipping late at night and coming upon a movie that I feel I've already seen -- whether I have or not. Essentially, we've all read "Dreaming of fame as a filmmaker, hungry for love and sex ...," and we've all learned the tolerance lessons awaiting us in "Eve has grown up in a decidedly unconventional family, one of seven multiracial children ..."

Authors have little or no control over their jacket copy. That doesn't stop me from wondering how good a novel can be when its description is so carelessly written. "In memories that rise like wisps of ghosts" suggests that the narrative is going to be even wispier. I mean, a ghost is already vaporous -- how the hell hard is the wisp of ghost to detect? Does the book come with special glasses, like the ones handed out at the William Castle movie "13 Ghosts," which enabled you to see the spooks?

Maya Angelou reads from "The Heart of a Woman"