Look, this summer, read whatever you want.
Don’t listen to me. Indulge your whims. It’s been a few summers since you could comfortably relax on a beach, towel to towel with strangers, and just lose yourself in a long book for a couple of hours. Not entirely sure you can do that now, either. But it’s likely. So read the collected works of Proust. Or the collected works of Nora Roberts. Read comics (the finest ones right now are smarter than many novels). Read self-help, or if you’re in tune with the coming dystopia, read something darker and devoid of help.
Like the climate itself, our cultural climate is as fluid as it has ever been.
