Check the furthermost part of the bookstore. On the left, all the way to the back, down the stairs, past mythology and social sciences. It’s the shelf on the end, the one filled with paperback spines as bright and colorful as conversation hearts. Or maybe it’s between the tabloids and the chewing gum at the supermarket checkout, a display of purse-sized books splashed with images of hands clutching waists. Whatever the case, what you’re looking for will be tucked safely away, curated into corners, never neighboring the “serious” literature.