The Song is You/Arthur Phillips: Reflections

It was in the tiny Appleton-departing plane, flying toward Chicago, here, above the 307-mile-long Lake Michigan, that I decided that I had to find a new book.  I'd read a big national bestseller on the way over and had found myself enormously disheartened; it was so plodding, so textbook researched, so predictable, so grating, and I knew that I'd not write of it here.  What is the point of defrocking a book that millions have loved?  Nothing at all, I've learned, or nothing much.

The B Concour...