As a reader, I like long-form essays because they’re long enough to establish an emotional connection with the author but short enough to enjoy in a single evening. As a creator, they’re long enough to become an intellectual obsession but, as opposed to books, short enough to feel like a temporary stage in your life. As one writer said to me: “Choo

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There’s a pale beer stain on the back cover of The Invisible Man, and inside, the margins are mobbed with pencil marks. It’s so dense you can barely see the paper behind it—there are dozens of different people’s marginalia jostling for space here. I flip through the book; it’s jam-packed. Some of the notes are about the text, but more are directed

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