…are the remarkable remarkables. They heave the door open and gust through, no time for greetings. Taylor considers all books, particularly horse books, Jake considers large books, particularly (today), books about The French Revolution or Madam Pompadour. They sail back and forth in the wind, hailing Grandma who waits on the beach and who greets all interests, all choices, as fine and wise. And so there is no place in literature where these children will not venture, and no shape, proportion, heft, vintage or bay that will stay unexplored. When they call out from another room, they call from far away, because they are. They are wise. They read what they want to read and reject what they don’t. The spread the books out and announce each title kindly for me. Their faces are lit lanterns.