Following a few weeks of relatively quiet controversy, a smattering of media reports and chatter in the blogosphere, Sampson received another letter from the affirmative action office saying that no determination could be made as to whether his reading choice was intentionally hostile. Therefore, no disciplinary action would be taken.

This time, Charleston insisted that the university doesn't restrict reading materials and that she was merely addressing "the perception of your co-workers that you were engaging in conduct for the purpose of creating a hostile atmosphere of antagonism."

"Of course, if the conduct was intended to cause disruption to the work environment, such behavior would be subject to action by the university," she wrote.

Was Sampson being intentionally hostile and antagonistic?

One might argue that he was inconsiderate to continue reading the book once he realized others found it distasteful. Maybe Sampson has bad manners, but if bad manners are our new standard for disciplinary action, everybody's under arrest.

You see, meanwhile, how vexing mind reading can be.

Yet, mind reading was the crux of this case and scores of others where the interpretation of speech codes hinges on unanswerable questions that require the power of divination: What was he thinking? What was she feeling?

And who decides what thoughts are acceptable and which feelings are sacrosanct?

A reasonable person might like to flip the question Charleston posed about whether Sampson's book choice was intentionally hostile as follows:

What could be more hostile in a university environment than investigating a student's reading choices on the basis of a bystander's perceptions? That's not just hostile, but sinister.

To read is sublime; but to read a mind is tricky.