What a surreal experience to pick up the Sunday paper in your hotel lobby and find your book in their summer reading list of “37 titles that Washington Post critics have adored.” I brought it upstairs and unfolded it onto the bed and just stared and stared and stared, hoping to memorize that moment forever. And then my phone buzzed and I learned of the Orlando shootings, so horrific and cruel and pointless. I wish I had wisdom or even hope to add here but I don’t. All I have is this physical piece of paper that means so much, but on a day so terribly sad.