Fun with the Queen
This will be my last post about her majesty, I promise. I want to share a few books that poke fun at the Queen – one, not so gently. Read on, I’ll explain ~~
The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett
Quite by accident, the Queen of England stumbles upon the bookmobile that visits Buckingham Palace each week. To be polite, she checks a book out from the traveling library and what follows is a charming story in which HRH develops quite an obsession with books and sends the palace into an uproar.
With her new love of reading, neither she nor eventually England will ever be quite the same in this quietly humorous short novel. The Queen discovers Jean Genet, Nancy Mitford, E. M. Forster, Emily Dickinson, Alice Munro, Proust, Charles Dickens, Dostoevsky. She has difficulty with Jane Austen because that writer is so concerned with social distinctions. Ar first, she is put off by the verbosity of Henry James(something she has in common with any reader I have ever known) and I have to agree with her question:
Am I alone in wanting to give Henry James a good talking to?
The Queen’s newfound love of reading quickly concerns both the royal household and her staff. She’s no longer interested in her duties and has started arriving late to engagements (even Parliament). And like all readers, the Queen often laments about her full days of meetings, wishing instead she could be at home reading. She perfects reading in her coach, keeping the book below the window level so as to maintain the royal wave as she travels.
She eventually comes to question the prescribed order of her world and loses patience with the routines of the monarchy. With her reading, she gains a new widening perspective which soon leads to surprising (and very funny) consequences for the country at large.
The Uncommon Reader pokes gentle fun at the proper behavior and protocol at the palace. Mr. Bennett encapsulates, in a subtle and clever way, the isolation and insularity of a royal’s life. This short novella, imagines that the Queen discovers a way to break out of the bubble with the joy of reading.
Mrs. Queen Takes the Train by William Kuhn
A very similar novel, in both tone and style – with a mimic cover.
Mr. Kuhn even refers to the Bennett novel:
“‘Did you read the one about The Queen becoming a reader?’ said the woman in spectacles to the young man at her side.`I did enjoy that one. So funny. And of course, being a reader myself, I liked that side of it.’”
From the back cover:
After decades of service and years of watching her family’s troubles splashed across the tabloids, Britain’s Queen is beginning to feel her age. She needs some proper cheering up. An unexpected opportunity offers her relief: an impromptu visit to a place that holds happy memories—the former royal yacht, Britannia, now moored near Edinburgh. Hidden beneath a skull-emblazoned hoodie, the limber Elizabeth (thank goodness for yoga) walks out of Buckingham Palace into the freedom of a rainy London day and heads for King’s Cross to catch a train to Scotland.
But a characterful cast of royal attendants has discovered her missing. In uneasy alliance a lady-in-waiting, a butler, an equerry, a girl from the stables, a dresser, and a clerk from the shop that supplies Her Majesty’s cheese set out to find her and bring her back before her absence becomes a national scandal.
Mrs. Queen Takes the Train abounds with dry, British humor and witty social commentary. Mr. Kuhn tackles homelessness, terrorism, race relations, and mental illness. What I found fascinating was how the author gave the Queen a human side (she does yoga and attempts a computer) but still maintains the respectful dignity due a British monarch. You can read my full review of this delightful little novel HERE
Death at Buckingham Palace by C. C. Benison
I read this years ago, back when I was working 60+ hours a week, and at the end of the day, my mind was mush. In those days, I would turn to light, cozy mysteries to relax me to sleep at night.
Death at Buckingham Palace starts with the Queen literally tripping over a dead body in the palace and an unlikely housemaid Jane Bee works with the Queen to uncover secrets of the highest order. The time period is a few years after the Queen’s “annus horribilis” and before the death of Princess Diana. Lots of humor (footmen streaking naked through the palace), upstairs and downstairs drama, a film crew doing a documentary on life at the palace, and plenty of red herrings for Jane to sort through. A fun look inside the palace (there’s even a map of the layout) and tongue-in-cheek humor.
I’ve kept this little paperback all these years, which means I meant to re-read it – I do remember really enjoying it. There are two more in this “Her Majesty Investigates” series – Death at Sandringham House and Death at Windsor Castle.
C. C. Benison is the nom de plume for the Canadian award-winning author Doug Whiteway…who under the same pseudonym also wrote the father Christmas series, which includes Twelve Drummers Drumming, Eleven Pipers Piping, Ten Lords A-Leaping — well you get the drift. I admit I read at least one of those, as well – back when I devoured cozy mysteries to unwind.
The Queen and I by Sue Townsend
Remember at the beginning of this rather long post, I hinted one of these books was not so gentle when having fun with the Queen? Well, actually The Queen and I is actually not directly critical of the Queen but of the royal institution itself. It does however, embark on making fun of the Queen trying to become a regular Brit.
What if anti-monarchists win the UK election and their first action is to transfer the royal family into low-income housing and told they must live like ordinary Britons? How would they cope and adapt?
This very scenario is explored in this very funny, very British tale by Ms. Townsend. The family is ‘relocated’ to Hellebore Close the missing letters in the street sign leave “Hell Close”), a council estate somewhere up the M1. Elizabeth is assigned a social worker, Phillip gets clinical depression, Charles grows a ponytail and ends up in prison, and Anne starts see a carpet installer named Spiggy.
When it was originally published in 1992 this satire was considered an edgy and irreverent exploration of the role of the monarchy, and it does, indeed, highlight the question of the relevancy and value of the ancient British institution.
I think I’ll re-read The Queen and I, as I remember it was amusingly bittersweet, as well as thought-provoking and insightful. Here’s some of the things I underlined from my first reading:
Upon her first, nervous journey on a bus, the driver quips to the Queen “aw c’mon lassie, let yourself go. You’ve got a face on you like a wet Sunday in Aberdeen.”
Then there is this exchange as they settle into the housing estate:
“Mr Barker, there is no mention of dogs here,” said the Queen.
“One per family,” said Jack.
“Horses?” asked Charles.
“Would you keep a horse in a council house garden?”
“No. Quite. One wasn’t thinking.”
“Clothes aren’t on the list,” said Diana, shyly.
“You won’t be needing much. Just the bare essentials. You won’t be making personal appearances, will you?”
Princess Anne rose and stood next to her father. “Thank God for that! At least something good has come out of this bloody shambles — Are you all right, Pa?”
So, there you go, some fun, light Queen-based humor.
I firmly believe she would approve.
Us by David Nicholls
You can rest assured Book Barmy followers, we’re done with dark thrillers for awhile.
Time for something completely different.
I read another book by Mr. Nicholls (One Day) a long time ago and was not enthralled. I found it one-dimensional and it often trespassed into a sticky-sweet romance.
So, when one of my favorite booktubers, Wilde Reads raved about Us by Mr. Nicholls I was skeptical, but in dire need of a break from dark thrillers – I borrowed it from the library for our recent trip down south.
Douglas and Connie, a British couple have planned a vacation through Europe, but it’s nearly called off when Connie wakes up and says “I think I want to leave you.”
Douglas forges ahead and cajoles his wife to enjoy one last hurrah with their teenage son, who is soon off to college. And thus begins a bittersweet and awkward journey through Europe.
The past and present are told in many short chapters. The family is on a forced march through Europe following Douglas’s precise itinerary, carefully laid out in numerous spread sheets.
Douglas and Connie’s past relationship is slowly revealed — how they met and fell in love, despite being complete opposites. Connie is an uninhibited artist, while Douglas is an introverted biochemist – they marry, inhabit a bohemian London apartment, have a child. We see Douglas struggle with Connie’s artistic and unconventional upbringing of their son, and watch as Connie gives up her art and they move out of London to a larger house with a garden. All seems to be going well – or is it?
These are real people — Douglas, well-meaning but suffering from a lack of spontaneity; Connie, beautiful, charming, and artistic — and their son, Albie, a typical teenager filled with scorn for adult conservatism.
The dynamic between Douglas and Connie is funny and genuinely touching.
’I was looking forward to us growing old together. Me and you, growing old and dying together.’
‘Douglas, who in their right mind would look forward to that?’”
So they’re off to Europe. There are painful scenes when Douglas is trying desperately to ensure everyone is having a good time, but these are contrasted with laugh out loud funny incidents, such as when it turns out Douglas has mistakenly booked the three of them into a questionable hotel in Amsterdam…
“Dad”, asked Albie “have you booked us into a sex hotel?” and they began to laugh. It’s not a sex hotel, it’s boutique, I insisted. “Douglas”, said Connie, “tapping the print of the bound Japanese lady, is that a half hitch or a bowline?” I did not answer, through it was a bowline.
What I most enjoyed about Us was the subtle, bittersweet, and unflinchingly honest writing.
I think our marriage has run its course. I think I want to leave you. It was like trying to go about my business with an axe embedded in my skull.
I could especially relate to this, about Douglas’s ability to appreciate modern art
It’s not about what you liked and didn’t like, Connie would reply, it’s about what it made you feel. More often than not, it made me feel foolish and conventional.
And I had to nod in agreement with this about parties;
Because parties, dinner parties in particular, had always seemed to be a pitiless form of gladiatorial combat, with laurel garlands bestowed to the most witty, successful and attractive, and the corpses of the defeated lying bleeding on the painted floorboards.
This is a cynical, bittersweet, yet loving portrait of a love — of a relationship. A reminder that not every couple can be happy, no matter how much they love each other. These are real and familiar characters; especially the befuddled Douglas, certain he can fix something unfixable if only he applied enough logic, pragmatism, and unfailing optimism.
Mr. Nicholls does not give us a happily ever after ending, no perfect tying up of loose ends. This is a civilized yet loving portrait of the slipping away of a marriage. Like Nora Ephron’s, “Heartburn”, this a funny and touching novel about a situation which, I’m certain, living through would not be at all funny.
Dear Fahrenheit 451, by Annie Spence
I needed a break from reading three dark thrillers in a row (just finishing my last one – really good, but more on that later.)
So I slipped over into the warm comfort of this book.
Dear Fahrenheit 451 by Annie Spence
Love and Heartbreak in the Stacks
A Librarian’s Love Letters and the Breakup Notes to the Books in Her Life
Ms. Spence is a young librarian and both her reading taste and vernacular reflect fresh, edgy thinking. This makes for a very different sort of book about books. No guilt-inducing, preaching on the books you ought to have read (I’m looking at you Clifton Fadiman). Instead, Dear Fahrenheit 451 is comprised of breezy takes (or letters) on the books the author has read, owns, loathes, comes across, culled from the library stacks, or had patrons request.
Ms. Spence’s casual writing voice is scattered with cursing and some sex. There’s a letter to a book called The One Hour Orgasm which you’ll just have to read for yourselves, I blush — anyway suffice it to say, this book never gets boring.
Ms. Spence’s love of books and what they mean shines through. But she also reflects on the often unspoken truism that readers can, and will, fall out with a book, there are indeed books that become irrelevant, books that leave us angry, annoyed, or the worst offense of all – a book that leaves us flat.
Here’s some of my favorite snippets:
Dear Fifty Shades of Grey,
You made me say “erotica” to an old lady. I’m going to hate you forever for that…
Dear Miss Marple Series,
You guyssssss! I just want to thank you for being there for me. Everybody loves you. Seriously, everybody. I mean people who like mysteries – Doy. But also, did you know that truckers love you? You guys on audio are like a gateway drug to reading for truckers. Also, kids who read way above their grade level and are bored with everything in the children’s section. …and teens with helicopter parents who want to make sure they aren’t reading novels with sex in them (as a rule, murder in a book is A-okay with these folks).
Dear Pictorial Anatomy of the Cat,
I don’t know how you got here. Without your book jacket on – which is who knows where – one might have assume you were some sort of mythical fairy tale about kitties. But in reality your insides …are about insides. But don’t get me wrong. I thought you lateral view of the abdominal viscera was neat. But, can I say something? You’re creeping people out. You go on and on about the cutaneous maximums. This is a public library. So…Go’way Now, Annie
Dear Another Saturday Night of Wild and Reckless Abandon: A Cathy Collection,
I had to give (my friend) a little lesson on Cathy, Cathy. Because when you’re not talking about dating insecurities and how to eat feelings, you were one of the first to address the contradictions of the women who’s trying to “have it all”. You discuss the wage gap, mansplaining, and sexual harassment. You try to explain fluid gender roles in a way Cathy’s own mom might understand. Yeah, Cathy has a messy room and frets over her terrible hair. She’s trying to figure it out. That’s what makes her so lovable. I’m proud to put you right by my Gloria Steinem essays and Bad Feminist. You may be a collection of cartoons, but you’re part of the sisterhood. You’re my favorite 80’s woman.
So, aach on girl, Tiny heart, Annie
Towards the end, Ms. Spence also give us ‘special subject’ essays such as
“Excuses to tell your friends so you can stay home with your books
“Falling Down the Rabbit Hole-books that lead to more books”
“He’s Just Not That Into Literacy: Turning Your Lover into a Reader”
There’s a wonderfully funny letter to a Fancy Bookshelf at a Party I Wasn’t Technically Invited To, where, while hiding by the bookshelves, she snarks on the styled books, knickknacks and art — not to mention, the hostess.
Ms. Spence dedicates a letter to book group discussions, which she often overhears at coffee shops or the library, and has to resist the urge to break in saying — ‘OMG, you’re missing the whole point of the book –step aside and let a professional take over’.
The final epilogue is a endearing shout out to the importance of librarians and libraries. Dear Fahrenheit 451 would be a perfect gift for any librarian, library workers or book-lovers on your list. It’s a little early for the holidays, but at the very least add it to your own TBR list. I know you have one.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dear Fahrenheit 451
I read you in small doses which proved most enjoyable. Equally enjoyable was the long list of books added to my TBR list thanks to you and your charming, and approachable author. We have much to talk about, hey let’s meet for a glass of wine. I’ll be the one in the corner with a book ~~ BookBarmy.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A digital review copy was provided by Flatiron Books via Netgalley.
Secrets Kids Know (that adults oughta learn) by Allen Klein
My guilty morning secret (now that I’m retired) is I’ll often make a cup of tea and go back to bed to read for a bit. That’s how I enjoyed Secrets Kids Know over the last several weeks. Turned out to be a delightful way to start my day.
I’m usually not a huge fan of the self-help genre, I find they regurgitate one simple principal over and over to fill pages. But this is not the case with Secrets Kids Know.
The overall premise is as adults grow up we loose our joy in life. Which affects many aspects of our lives, from our relationships, to our careers and creativity. Mr. Klein helps the reader see a wide variety of things through children’s eyes — with his delightful insights, quotes, examples, and stories.
Each chapter (or secret as Mr. Klein calls them) is a breath of fresh air, here’s a brief sampling:
Be a Beginner, where we see how the innocence of not knowing something opens us up to all possibilities – without preconceived right or wrong.
Be a Fun Seeker, in which we see how clowning around like a kid can be restorative.
Be Curious, which asks us to use curiosity to inspire our goals. The child-like question “are we there yet?” can be turned around on yourself “Am I there yet?” or your company “Are we there yet?”
Be Truthful, where we learn how to see things as they are, and the value of honest observation, unclouded by adult preconceptions.
Each chapter ends with a “Grow Down” (vs. Grow up) assignment — more of a suggestion really — such as taking a nap, blowing bubbles out the car window during a traffic jam (gonna try that one), or consulting your child-like instinct when making important decisions.
I fear I’ve made Secrets Kids Know sound simplistic — it not. The author recognizes that adult pressures, worries, and crises can’t be solved by being childlike. We can’t always live in the moment, as if a three year old. Instead, Mr. Klein suggests that we incorporate child-like tendencies into our day-to-day thoughts and activities in order to cope with the burdens of adulthood, not to mention the nightly news.
Something as profound as being present – a Buddhist teaching I’ve long struggled with, was made relevant to my adult life with this quote:
One of the reasons children are filled with extraordinary amounts of energy and enthusiasm may be that they are in the present moment. Their energy is not wasted on a wandering mind that exhausts itself through negative emotions.
Emma Seppala
Unlike some other self help authors, Mr. Klein is no egotist. He happily intersperses his writing with other’s stories, quotes, and insights – often causing this reader to chuckle…
One good thing about five-year-olds is they are always just a Krazy Straw and some chocolate milk away from the best day ever.
Simon Cholland
Mr. Klein is a Jollytologist® (yes he trademarked it), is a professional speaker, and has written a number of books on using humor in our personal and professional lives — to motivate, harness creativity, and heal.
While I won’t be donning a red clown nose (something the author advocates), I did refresh my walking music with some Bee Gees, helped a neighbor’s 1 1/2 year old with a chalk drawing on the sidewalk, and, yes, I’ll be buying bubbles.
Thank you to Viva Editions and the author for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest and non-compensated review.
Lisa Scottoline
If you’re a follower of Book Barmy, you may have surmised I’m not always a high-brow reader. Yes, I read important books and am working through several classics (Trollope you’re killing me, buddy), but some evenings I just want to zone out, with some plain light-hearted fun.
You may know Lisa Scottoline as the Edgar-Award winning author of twenty plus NY Times bestselling crime novels. I’ve never read any of those, instead I know her for her series of humor books. I’ve Got Sand In All the Wrong Places marks the seventh in this very funny series.
I find it impressive that Ms. Scottoline can write both page-turning legal thrillers (she practiced as a lawyer before becoming a writer) as well as this series of hilarious and witty books. The material for these laugh-out-loud books derives from a Sunday column that Ms. Scottoline and her daughter, Francesca write for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Each short chapter is a column from the paper written separately by either mother or daughter and each year a new book is derived from the year’s columns. (Obviously Ms. Scottoline is not only a best-selling writer, she is also a canny business person.)
Ms’s. Scottoline and Serritella are strong, funny women who take on the subjects of daily life: love, dating, sex, no sex, pets, food, clothes, writing, traveling, health, hair, and more. No subject is off limits.
Ms. Scottoline’s love of family is apparent on every page and cause for humor as she describes her relationships with her mother, brother, and daughter. Mother Mary (her dearly departed mother) was often the funniest subject matter.
Mother Mary is out of the hospital, and recovery lies ahead.
For the hospital.
Her honest love of her menagerie of dogs was especially funny in her book Why My Third Husband with be a Dog ~ on her Golden Retrievers:
Here is what the Goldens are like: fun, easy, friendly, happy, and loving, on a continuous loop. You could have three Goldens in the room and not know it. They love to sleep. They love everything. Honestly, I kept adding Goldens because I forgot they were there. You could be sitting in a roomful of Goldens and think to yourself, “You know, we need a dog”.
However, I find the best thing about Ms. Scottoline’s humor is her normal-ness and self depreciation. Graduating from a top law school with honors, she decided to become a crime novelist and succeeded. Got give that some respect.
Anyway, my head was full of these thoughts the other afternoon, as I was hurrying in a downpour through the streets of New York City, there to take my author photo. I know that sounds glamorous and it would be if I were ten pounds lighter and ten years younger, but take it from me, the best fiction in my books is the author photo.
This latest volume again is both humorous and poignant as it deals with daughter Francesca’s life in New York city which includes a brutal assault. But like the other books I found it funny, warm, down to earth, and, at times unpredictable
There’s an essay on the holiday season and how in the past, Ms. Scottoline found it all too stressful, and resorted to holiday shopping on-line. The news of a bookstore closing, has her vowing to shop in actual stores — especially bookstores (hail comrade!) – and that maybe it’s supposed to be stressful.
It may be obvious as an abstract matter, but I realized that many other types of stores could go belly-up, if I keep shopping on my butt. So I taught myself a lesson: Vote with my feet. If I want to live in a community that has bookstores and all other kinds of stores, as well as local people happily employed in those stores, I have to out and buy stuff. I’m putting on my coat and going shopping . I look forward to the cranky shoppers, the waiting in lines, and the fighting over the parking space. And I’m wishing you and yours a happily stressful holiday.
The terrifying CNN storm predictions for New York City has Ms. Scottoline texting and calling her daughter in a panic:
I became Hurricane Mom. First thing in the morning, I called her, vaguely hysterical:
“Honey, did you see the TV? There’s going to be a big storm!”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Francesca answered, too calmly for my taste. “What are you doing? Did you go food shopping?” “I’m working. I don’t need to go food shopping. I have food in the fridge.”
“But do you have canned goods?”
“Canned goods?” Francesca asked, chuckling softly. “What are you talking about?” “Canned goods, canned goods!”
Francesca replied, “I think I have a can of beans…
“You need more beans, right away!”
“Why, what are you talking about? Please, you need to calm down.”
“I can’t! You need canned goods in case of a power outage! It’s going to be a giant, epic, historic, emergency, monster blizzard storm!”
“They always say that.”
“But they’re right! This is CNN talking! Wolf Blitzer!”
“I’m OK.” “No,you’re not! You’re going to DIE!”
So you know where this is going. Drama ensued. Voices were raised. Things were said. Tears were shed. Mistakes were made.
Bottom line, there was a lot of passive voice happening, which is never a good thing, whether it’s a federal government or a mother-daughter relationship.
But it had a happy ending. There was no epic winter monster blizzard storm. I apologized to Francesca for terrorizing her. Francesca apologized, happy that I loved her enough to terrorize her.Meteorologists apologized for their predictions.
As for Wolf Blitzer, we’re not speaking to him.
I highly recommend having this volume or any of the wonderfully-titled humor books by your bedside to dip into just before going to sleep.
Take it from Book Barmy, go to sleep with a loved one’s kiss and, after a few life observations from Lisa and Francesca — with a smile.
A digital review copy was provided by St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley.
Michael Dirda ~ Part Deux
Michael Dirda
I received an email from one of my legion of loyal few Book Barmy readers regarding this post on the book of essays entitled Browsings by Michael Dirda. This reader wondered why, as a declared Anglophile, I had failed to mention his essay called Anglophilia or perhaps I had skipped it?
Well, this sent me scurrying back to the book because I frankly didn’t remember said essay. After reading it I realized that I must have skipped this one — you see, I did not adhere to Mr. Dirda’s introductory rule of reading his essays in order.
I hung my head in shame, and as penance, last night I again browsed through Browsings (sorry for that phrase, but you knew it was coming, didn’t you?). I ended up re-reading several of my favorites and finding a passage or two I had fogotten.
The neglected essay Anglophilia was written during Queen Elizabeth’s 60-year jubilee and should be read in its entirety, as it is chocked full of British greatness. Mr. Dirda admits his secret fantasy of being picked for a knighthood or an OBE. He feels he may have earned such an honor given his lifetime of dreaming of Harrods Christmas hampers, box seats at the Grand National and pub lunches of shepherds pie.
In real life, his Anglophilia is limited to a Harris Tweed sport coat, a few Turnbull & Asser shirts (picked up at a local thrift shop) and watching Miss Marple mysteries on television.
(I watch them) less to guess the identity of the murderer than to look at the wonderful clothes and the idyllic Costwoldian village of St. Mary Mead. My wife tells me I should check out Downton Abbey, but I gather that series might be almost too intense for my temperate nature.
Of course, most of Mr. Dirda’s Anglophilia is bookish, and he imagines his very own country house library – (my imagined room is quite the same):
…lined on three walls with mahogany bookshelves, their serried splendor interrupted only by enough space to display, above the fireplace, a pair of crossed swords or sculling oars and perhaps a portrait of some great English worthy. The fourth wall would, of course, open on to my gardens, designed and kept up by Christopher Lloyd, with the help of Robin Lane Fox…There would definitely be a worn leather Chesterfield sofa, its back covered with a quilt (perhaps a tartan? decisions, decisions) and its corners cushioned with a half-dozen pillows embroidered with scenes from Greek mythology. Here, I would recline and read my books.
I found a few other passages I must read out loud to you…okay you can read them yourselves.
He ruefully muses about his book buying expenditures:
It’s true that even $5 book purchases do add up. Yet, what after all is money? It’s just this abstraction, a number, a piece of green paper. But a book — a printed volume, not some pixel on a screen — is real. You can hold it in your hand. Feel its heft. Admire the cover. Realize that you now own a work of art that is 50 or 75 or even 100 years old. My Beloved Spouse constantly berates me for failing to stew sufficiently about money. For 30 years I diligently set aside every extra penny to cover the college educations of my three sons. I paid off my home mortgage long ago. I even have some kind of mutual fund. Nonetheless, it’s hard for me to feign even minimal interest in investing or studying the stock market. What a weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable – okay, make that profitable — way of life it is to think constantly about the bottom line. Keogh plans, Roths, Schedule C, differed income, capital gains, and rows and rows of little numbers…The heart sinks.
And finally, I’ll leave you with more about his plan to travel around the US visiting second-hand bookstores.
(In addition to stopping at bookstores) …I’d naturally take the time to genuflect at the final resting places of writers I admire. Come lunchtime I would obviously eat in diners and always order pie for dessert, sometimes à la mode. During the evenings sipping a local beer in some one-night cheap motel, I would examine the purchases of the day and fall asleep reading shabby, half-forgotten novels.
Thinking I would not need or want to re-read this book, it almost went into the library donation bag. See what I almost missed? I stand vindicated in my board hoarding collecting. I’m giving Browsings its permanent and rightful place on my bookshelves.
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