Double the Joy no. 59: Other People's Words
December 31st, 2024
Happy, almost, New Year!
I have completed my reading for the year and I will be sharing some of the details in a post at the end of this week. Not entirely sure how I will sum up this year’s reading just yet — perhaps a Top 10?
For now, here is an article I wrote over the summer, but never published. A huge thanks to Randy at Greatheart’s Table for inspiring this piece and for hosting a guest post of mine earlier in the year.
I did some light editing today and here it is for, I hope, your enjoyment:
I imagine every region or area of the country has its share of unique attractions.
I live near “Rocket City” — Huntsville (AL). It is so named for the city’s unique role in the development of the rockets that put man on the moon. Huntsville is where you can attend Space Camp. One of the tallest structures in our city is a replica of the Saturn V rocket.
Another regional attraction, 45 minutes to the east, is Unclaimed Baggage, which is “the nation’s only retailer of lost luggage.” I will have to take their word for it: “Unclaimed Baggage has purchasing agreements for unclaimed items with all domestic airlines and other travel and transportation companies. With five decades of experience processing large volumes of one-of-a-kind items, we maximize each item’s potential for a second life.” In their store in Scottsboro, AL you will find just about everything you can imagine.
Including books, which is where I come in. Their prices are very reasonable, albeit a little higher than I prefer to spend on used books. Still, I have found a number of books to add to my library on each of my visits. For example, Randy had recommended a collection of essays (Of Large and of Small) by Anne Fadiman to me in the Spring and then, upon a visit to Unclaimed Baggage, I spotted her book The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down. I likely never would have paid any attention to that book had it not been for Randy’s endorsement. He might even be a member of her fan club—if such a thing exists.
There it was for $2.99. Paperback. Like new. Trust.
On that same trip, I came across a paperback copy of Hernan Diaz’s Trust, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2022. Not surprisingly, this is a book I have heard frequent mention of and is well-regarded. Just recently, it was book 50 on the New York Times list of the 100 best books of the 21st century. I’ll have to take their word for it.
There it was for $2.99. Paperback. Like new.
Like new, but not new. I had a receipt to prove it.
Someone, either from or while in Lafayette, Louisiana, bought a newfangled copy of this book several months earlier at a Books-A-Million. Kellie was the store associate who assisted the book’s previous owner, but the customer’s name remains a mystery to me. The receipt made my purchase of that book feel strange. Personal, even. I was holding someone else’s book. Someone paid $17.00 plus tax for this book, for which I paid a fraction. After all, it was used to me. Like new, but not new. They also purchased a Ghirardelli Prestige Milk Chocolate Bar for $4.99 and I really hope that was not packed with the luggage. $23.85 in July of 2023 on a Mastercard. I probably used a Visa for that book (and a few others) nearly a year later.
Theoretically, one knows that it is exactly what is happening when you purchase a used book. At some point, it belonged to someone else. Maybe they read it or maybe it sat simply occupying space on a bookshelf. Many of the books on my bookshelves are aspirational like that.
The words might have been loved or hated. Ignored or consumed. Holding a used book is a connection to another world entirely unknown. Occasionally, an inscription or some marginalia will remind of that reality. No such thing here.
Yet, that receipt provoked a crisis, of sorts. Had that person read the book before it was sacrificed to the “luggage gods”? Or maybe it was a gift to a beloved who was awaiting their return from a business trip? Was that book just a small loss, among many more important items? Did they care that I was reading their words? There are questions I cannot answer definitively, but continue to think about.
I finished reading Trust and I found myself ambivalent. Not really because I was reading someone’s lost luggage, but rather because Trust is a compelling four-part narrative that leaves one with as many questions as answers. A decade or two ago, we might have been quick to call it a “postmodern” novel. Thus, my ambivalence. Diaz’s writing is engaging throughout, and I enjoyed his style. The book and the receipt contain mysteries and unknowns that will remain. There are questions I can not answer definitively, but continue to think about.
That would seem to be the power of words on a page or on receipt paper that is starting to fade.
Author and purchaser. Do they care that I am reading their words? I sure hope not.
And thank you for reading…my words!