It’s the 10th anniversary of the September 11 attacks, and I’m reading books about it.
Today I started reading the 9/11 report (The 9/11 Commission Report), which is said to be actually readable (a remarkable achievement for a gov doc). It’s a huge book, and I realized early on (because I always do that “What is this book made up of?” flip-through thing with nonfiction) that its final 175 pages are appendices, notes, and an index. (That index is also a rare thing in a gov doc.) I’ve been meaning to read this book for a while now, and today seemed like the right day to begin.
Yesterday I began reading The Submission by Amy Waldman, which also is September 11-related. It’s a novel about a (fictional) 9/11 memorial. The premise is that a committee selected a plan for a memorial, only to discover it had been submitted by a Muslim. Hubbub ensues.
Today I’ve also read some more of English Creek by Ivan Doig, which is a wonderfully comforting novel about a boy in the American West during the Great Depression. There’s something about that book that just makes me feel OK about the world. A person needs some of that.