I had an uncle who was the primal intellectual in my mother’s side of the family. He had lost his right arm and had a library that was possibly the greatest I have seen until today. I frequently borrowed some of his books. I never finished reading them, but he spoke to me each time about every book until it felt like I had read it. His uttered words were the fifth dimension in a young boy’s theater, sitting excitedly before him on a stool…