At this rate, the One-Man Book Club will soon be meeting at St. Elizabeths. (And no, Mr. Hinckley, we’re not going to read any books about Jodie Foster.) I actually had a fantasy during all the deadlines for fall TV reviews: If I could get just sick enough — something that required convalescence but not, you know, pain — I could read more. Books have been my only mental refuge from television lately (as opposed to what, exercise??), but you’ll notice the One-Man Book Club choices have been rather lite. Television eats your brain.