In June, I became briefly preoccupied with the question of what kind of reader I intended to be that summer. This happens to me periodically, usually when the weather changes and I begin imagining that a new season might also produce a new personality. Perhaps I would read slim English novels in the park. Perhaps I would develop a sudden expertise in close-up magic. Perhaps, for reasons unclear even to me, I would become very interested in rural schools.
The Chicago Public Library was happy to indulge all three possibilities.
