This morning, upon entering the office to read the last ten pages of a book I've been loving, I was met with hostility. I never imagined that in an environment built with such care to be safe, I would suffer such contempt. First I noticed a look. I was disconcerted by the surprise. Until I noticed another, and another, and dozens of other books glaring at me — all waiting to be read while I made a Hamnet-worthy scene saying goodbye to the last pages of a good read. Did I finish? No way. I turned them all sideways and moved on. I left five more pages for tomorrow; at thirty-three, I've already learned to live well with disapproval; good practice for my daughters' adolescence.