I took this picture this morning, after I closed all the windows and pulled all the shades in the hope of keeping the house cool. It’s supposed to be almost 90 today. Too hot.

I’m thinking about reading non-fiction today. I’ve been reading Ian Frazier’s Siberia, which I’ve already read, because it’s on A’s kindle, which I am trying out with a view toward buying it, if I want it. And I recently read M’s paper on obsidian dating, which she wrote for her anthropology class. She wanted me to read it to determine whether or not she should take some wodehouseian phrasing out of the opening paragraph. I didn’t know, and she left it in, and apparently the professor liked it. Siberia starts kind of like an undergraduate, or maybe even high school, paper — recounting pretty ordinary facts and not delving too deeply. And then it takes a turn and you get to Frazier’s own experiences.

Both kind of interesting ways to either inject personality into a factual summary, or to inject a factual summary into a memoir.


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