Books, Arts & Manners: Keeping Time

THE city is supposed to be an interesting place, which is why people move here, or run away here. Recently one of the tabloids wrote about two 14-year-olds from Byesville, Ohio, who decided it was up to you, New York, New York, to make their lives vivid. They bolted here, but were retrieved. The paper ran a picture: stolid girl, boy under a billed cap worn backward. “There’s nothing to do in Byesville,” the girl explained. “The boys skateboard, and the girls watch.” That struck me as acute, until my wife asked, “Are there no books in Byesville?”

You can read anywhere in America. Obviously there are more books here. But every town has some Shakespeare, and every truck stop a Bible. Access to classic writing falls on a continuum; everyone has something. Another, less hopeful continuum is decreasing access to classical music. Everyone has less.

About the Author

Richard Brookhiser

Historian Richard Brookhiser is a senior editor of National Review and a senior fellow at the National Review Institute.

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THE city is supposed to be an interesting place, which is why people move here, or run away here. Recently one of the tabloids wrote about two 14-year-olds from Byesville, Ohio, who decided it was up to you, New York, New York, to make their lives vivid. They bolted here, but were retrieved. The paper ran a picture: stolid girl, boy under a billed cap worn backward. “There’s nothing to do in Byesville,” the girl explained. “The boys skateboard, and the girls watch.” That struck me as acute, until my wife asked, “Are there no books in Byesville?”

You can read anywhere in America. Obviously there are more books here. But every town has some Shakespeare, and every truck stop a Bible. Access to classic writing falls on a continuum; everyone has something. Another, less hopeful continuum is decreasing access to classical music. Everyone has less.