A secret: Endurance Reading is nothing new for Miette. She’s participated in marathon readings of epic Greek poetry, she stays up on Bloomsday and reads along, she reads you Dostoevsky five straight nights, no sweat off her permanently furrowed brow, not your Miette, no how. But even Miette has her limits, and this one, clocking in over forty minutes, is the podcastilian equivalent of sand blown in the eyes of those limits. All for little monkeys and all their business. Now excuse me while I wrench this fleck of sand from my head.