I don’t want to make it a habit of posting with images, but sometimes a picture represents your 1,000th book. That you own. In your house. You’re a grown-ass man now, Fuller.
Amanda picked it up for us last week. It’s appropriate on a couple of levels: it’s an old book (1942), and it’s about Canadians. I love old, used books. I feel a dusty connection to all the prior owners and readers when I pick up an old book. And the smell–oh baby, I love that smell. Also, the Canada thing: my mom is from a town 40 miles from the Canadian border in upstate NY, I had Canadian roommates just after college, and I once went for a drunken joy-ride in a stolen country club golf cart during some friends’ wedding in Toronto. In that moment, it was the right thing to do.