Every Friday, Cienna Madrid offers solutions to life’s most vexing literary problems. Do you need a book recommendation to send your worst cousin on her birthday? Is it okay to read erotica on public transit? Cienna can help. Send your questions to advice@seattlereviewofbooks.com.

Dear Cienna,

I drive a Prius, and my boyfriend drives a Tesla (thank you hiring bonus at local unnamed tech company that if I named you'd probably hate me for mentioning). We argue about which car is better for the environment all the time, because electricity isn't really all that better than gas.

Anyway, at some point during this ongoing argument, he always brings up "If you really cared about the environment you'd stop buying books and get a Kindle or listen to books on Audible but you don't, so you kill trees, pay for shipping which uses gas, and generally, waste a lot of resources."

I need a good comeback, Cienna. Don't love my wienie Tesla-driving boyfriend win this one. Please help me.

Jessa, Mount Baker

Dear Jessa,

I'm going to assume for the sake of argument that your boyfriend isn't an idiot. If you want to put an end to his profoundly stupid, cherry-picked example of environmentalism, you don't need a comeback, you need a multisensory assault.

Go to your local pet store and purchase a medium-sized fishnet. The next time you take a shit, fish the turd out and tuck it in a houseplant. Continue this ritual until your boyfriend notices. Eventually, he will ask "What the fuck?"

Then you can tell him what he wants to hear: "you're right."

Tell him that you've done some research and you agree with him – your love of books is destroying the environment. You want to be a good environmentalist, so you did a little more research and you're making some changes. The first is using your turds as fertilizer for houseplants instead of flushing them to the ocean. You're also going off birth control because you've read that the hormones secreted through urine give fish titties. Be sure to enunciate "fish titties" to make the phrase extra horrifying.

Finally, mention that while you appreciate his recommendation to purchase a Kindle, they're very toxic and mostly made by LGBTQ+ children and pandas in China. So you have hired a Book Psychic to simply tell you the plots of books you want to read every night over speaker phone.

The name of your book psychic is My Aunt Cindy. You will then call her for the next several nights, while both of you are in bed, and let her talk at you.

My Aunt Cindy claims to have a bookstore in her basement the same way I claim to have a boyfriend in Alaska. She will love to hear from you. Every few weeks, Mother texts me to check in with My Aunt Cindy because "she’s alone now that her ant farm dried up."

Cindy claims she can predict the ending of a book after page one – that's where she got the reputation as a book psychic. I usually ask her what she’s reading, and the book she takes an hour to describe is usually a wine label. Which is fine. More wine labels would make bestseller lists if My Aunt Cindy and I were in charge.

After the planted turds and a few hours of Book Psychic Cindy confusing FitVine Wine with Eat Pray Love, I guarantee your boyfriend will never pick a fight with you over the environment ever again.

Kisses,

Cienna