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Designed for me, such passages rise to our highest callings as fiction writers: In An American Marriage by Tayari Jones, a couple is torn apart when a man is accidentally accused of a crime. I felt my words seep into the walls of the bedroom and under the door. People would read books about family suicides by Joan Rivers and Judy Collins, but who would care to read about a dance censor from Allentown, PA and her two sons? You have to love a writer who can help you see anew something at the same time as pervasive as heat. I was meant en route for write about this. The bonds which held things together were destroyed by the temperature—this is what my father said—but it felt more sinister than that.

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