Nathan Englander reads Isaac Bashevis Singer’s “Disguised” for The New Yorker’s monthly reading and conversation with Deborah Treisman. Englander’s voice couldn’t be more perfect.

I’m loving Orlando Figues’s A People’s Tragedy: The Russian Revolution 1891–1924. This summer, I read it to Liam at night before bed. How do I get my teenager to listen, you ask? Trust me: plenty of blood and guts in here to keep any 13-year-old happy. Then along comes an Economist story about Chinese workers — full of the same themes. Uncanny.

This was the song of the day a while ago, but I think I cheated and only posted it via Twitter. It’s by Freedy Johnston. It’s sad in a perfect way. It came to me via the hippest theologian — ever.

Think about it: Wouldn’t it be so nice if making music was something mostpeople did? Like writing and reading. Not something you consume. Not something veryspecial verytalented people make for you. Instead an everyday creative, collective act. A joyous togethering, washing away for a moment pain and discord. I would like that so much.