Cheri is reading 'Iron Hand' by Charlie Fletcher to the varmits before bedtime. It is a hot summer night with a cool breeze blowing in the window. I'm up in Emmy's bunk and can see them laying around listening to the story. Every now and then a bit of the story will take my attention.

Charlie Fletcher has put together a good story in these books (Stoneheart was the first). They are the kind of story that seems to appeal to lovers of history and walking ... but enough of this I am missing a good bit

[later] I just read an interesting article by the same author, "Literature menaced by anti story machines"

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