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Meaningless meanings, again

On the plane I sat next to elderly Japanese-American women on both legs of the trip. Both mentioned the internment indirectly. The first I believe may have been in them but she didn't elaborate and I felt I couldn't ask. The second mentioned how she had not been at risk because she was in Hawaii, but her father had been active in the outcry. It was interesting. Neither had ever been to Japan.


I finished the Eco on the first leg and had to grab a book at an airport store for the second half. I passed on Middlesex by Eugenides. I felt I needed something lighter. So I grabbed a Kathy Reichs, the books the show Bones is based on. A bit of fluff--it's already in the bag for the Goodwill, but good for a plane ride.


So, I'm sitting next to this elderly Japanese couple, and she's reading a history of native abuse in Hawaii, and he's reading a bio of someone like Adlai Stevenson. I wanted to say, "No, but see I WAS reading Umberto Eco. And I just finished Moby Dick, and I read really serious books." Which is not to say that I read what I read to impress people, but you know what I mean.


BUT, he leans over and asks how I like the Reichs, because it turns out he's a retired PATHOLOGIST, and likes her books very much! We discussed how gory Patricia Cornwell can be. I said that when she started writing she was better but she'd become formulaic. Very fun.

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