“The plan at the moment is to have the two of us blab at each other for a while and then open up the floor to questions, comments, and spontaneous dance routines from the audience. But you never do know. Hey, it’s a live appearance! Anything could happen. And both Ron and I are smartass know-it-alls, so I expect this to be fun. At the very least we’ll amuse ourselves.”

It’s Monday in Miami. At noon, two burly guys wheel cases of leftover cola out of the hospitality suite of the Biscayne Bay Marriott. Threatening black clouds pass over the bay quicker than a car driven by Tony Stewart, but Tropical Gamma turned out to be all huff & puff. Half-a-dozen people are lounging around the pool, glinting at the sun.

All the AV-equipment has been returned to its rightful place at Miami-Dade College. And the only remaining signs on campus of the Miami Book Fair International are the punctuating posters of a woman frolicking along the beach in a red dress patterned with crescent-moons, caffé latte and book in hand. “I spent the last 358 days preparing for this seven-day event,” one woman remarked as she reached for a ringing phone.

Kudos and hour-long massages to all those gracious people in Miami who worked their hineys bare, hustling authors, moderators, booksellers, escorts, media, and all those thousands of faithful, passionate readers.

I didn’t arrive in Miami in time to hear Joan Didion, Margaret Atwood, Jonathan Kozol, John Hope Franklin, Marilynne Robinson, Lorenzo Garcia Vega, Amy Tan or most of the hundreds of other notable authors, poets, and musicians. But I was able to make the New Orleans-themed dinner party, hosted by Mitch Kaplan and his crew at Books & Books. My friend Julia Reed, a New Orleans resident and Queen of Mighty-Fine Cuisine, would have handed out blue ribbons for the jambalaya, beignets and chicory.