A couple of days ago I caught sight of Ed's copy of The New York Review of Books lying on the kitchen table. (Where else?)
I looked at the cover, didn't see anything that caught my interest. Normally that's the end of it. I never look at the table of contents.
For some reason, though, this time I did. I opened the paper, turned to the contents, and was skimming down the list, asking myself why I was doing this since I wasn't feeling any more interested on this second pass, when suddenly I realized I was reading familiar words: Animals Make Us Human: Creating the Best Life for Animals by Temple Grandin and Catherine Johnson. Which hadn't been mentioned on the cover.
I had no idea!
After I stumbled across the review I called Ed to alert him, then left the house without reading more than a few paragraphs. I hate reading reviews. Ed called later to say that it was a "rave," and I still have not read the thing in its entirety.
But I'm glad it's there.