Lost & Found and Re-read

There is something about buying a used book. There is a slight musk smell that you can't help but relish as you finger through soft, already-loved pages. There is a meta history often recorded in the marginalia. There are flat objects lost and found in the creases of the book.

Ms. Isabel Harding owned the copy of Charlotte Temple that I recently read. She and I had a conversation separated by years and miles and the worldwide market of Amazon textbook purchasing. But here I was with an insight into how she viewed the world. At points she would highlight and interject "why is this here?" Or "by whom was this letter written?" I was impressed with her correct usage of 'whom' and mentally complimented her as I continued to read the text.

I recently purchased a used copy of A Confederacy of Dunces (this novel was suggested to me back when I was a recent high school graduate by George Roth--a bastion of the "nerd table" [at the time I preferred "intellectual lunch group"] that existed for the first couple of years of my high school experience). I found an artifact of the anonymous former owner on page 227: A corner of paper ripped from a Chinese takeout menu. An impromptu bookmark for the takeout consumer who has found a new "favorite Asian place." I wondered if they happened to be as obese as the main character in the novel. Perhaps it hit a little too close.

When I was at ISU I took a literary analysis course with a textbook titled Reading Narrative Fiction. Tucked between the pages was another story: a photo cropped down to two inches by three inches with various printing errors. Two woman stand in the center of the photograph with their legs propped up on a cut log as if they are on the label of a Captain Morgan bottle. They are in a campground with pine trees some fifteen feet behind them. A black dog lies and pants at the base of the log with a leash curled into an unsure, uneven, unattached serpentine pile beside him. The lady in the left's head is cut off by the photo some inches above her dark sunglasses. On the right the lass is wearing a light floral print halter top and Capri pants. Her smile is infectious, almost drunken looking. It seems to be both the fuel for the forced smile on her companion's face and also the destroys its effect by un-suspending our disbelief. Somedays I think these ladies are lesbian partners spending a relaxed weekend in the woods. Other days I feel that they are old high school buddies reconnecting over a few brewskis in the woods after years of collegiate separation. The enigma for me with this artifact is who holds the camera.

This all makes me wonder how my margin notes, chicken scratch and doodles are being seen in the world of used books. Am I some poor college freshman's Half-blood Prince? Maybe my doodle in a Music Theory textbook just made some brunette alto roll her eyes but secretly be glad for the momentary distraction from the stress of finals.

May the wonders of the aftermarket book trade forever bring a light to your life and to mine!