a review
I imagine that it was while watching a train barrel west one summer evening that someone first noticed it: a blaze of red and gold as the setting sun caught on the rails, reflected, infused the steel with so much light it looked like it was melting. I imagine they checked the date: June 21. Every summer solstice in my hometown the sun sets over the railroad tracks north of town and sets them aflame.
The day is an annual celebration; folks come from all over to see the sight. Sometimes the brightness and chance of the sunset is, as John writes, breath-giving. Others it’s overcast and rainy; the sun sets, but not where we can see. The crowd leaves, disappointed, but only a little. “Oh well,” they say, “It’ll happen again next year.” Because by chance the tracks were laid just right—because the sun still rises and sets—there’s always something to look forward to, something to hope for, even beneath cloudy skies.
I give my hometown and all hopeful expectation five stars.
{Written as a contribution to the map at theanthropocenereviewed.com, a fan project inspired by John Green’s new book of essays The Anthropocene Reviewed, which rates different facets of the human–centered planet on a five–star scale. I limited myself to 175 words, the length of John’s first reviews at Booklist.}