Used Books

Call me crazy, but I love a used book. There certainly is a place for a brand new hard cover from Barnes & Noble should the mood strike your fancy, but really, a used book has a story beyond the story to tell and if you are lucky enough, it just might give you a little chuckle.

We used to live in the cute little New England town of North Andover and biannually at the library there is a huge book sale over a weekend where on the last day, they issue Butcher Boy paper sacks and fill it to the brim with whatever treasures you will and it's a mere $4 per bag. This is my Christmas and if I'm lucky, I get to go twice in a year. In the past few years, I believe that most of my acquisitions have been from this sale. Since I can pack them into these bags, I don't always get around to reading them as fast as I can buy them because if I read all the books that I own, then I start to panic a little and then I have to beg my husband for more book money, and that's just a whole other issue and blog post that I just can't get into right now that involves the end of the world and having no more books to read should all the libraries close... I'll stop right there. Back to the used books: So, when I finally get around to reading some of these precious volumes, there are times when I get the bonus prize in them. Sometimes the bonus prize comes with other additions such as chocolate and/or orange cheese curl powder fingerprints on the corners of the pages where no doubt some reader was enjoying their book so much so that they forgot the obligatory napkin wipe of their fingers before leaving behind their identity, making their mark for all time and if I was just that crazy enough (I think I might be), I could see about checking out those prints. Sometimes there are ticket stubs, dry cleaner stubs, torn airplane or bus tickets and sometimes if I am lucky enough, note cards with notes. Other times there are passages underlined and notes in the margins and this, this is where it can get really, really hilarious.

Now, I'm not talking about educated, poignant remarks concerning literary devices in classical works-those would be great, I'm referring to completely random, un-insightful and particularly inane comments in the margins of non-classical literature. I have a few of those and have had a blast reading through some novels because of them. Good times. Forget the romantic comedy, pop some popcorn and find a contemporary novel that has notes in it written by a teenage girl! I'm serious.

This past spring I read Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated and was delighted that I came across such a delightful find. The novel itself was interesting to read enough. I didn't think it particularly fantastic, but it was good and what made it hysterical were these crazy notes that edged along the margins with the typical bubble writing and little tiny circles that dotted her every 'i' and if you think I am being stereotypical by assuming it was a girl, no, she wrote her name along the opening binding along the closed edges. Her name is Marissa.

First foray into her awesome insight begins on the About the Author page at the beginning of the novel:

-won many awards
-is totally hot
-went to Princeton

and then she re-writes the author's name in what I am assuming to be her "OMG HE'S HOT" best handwriting. I kid you not.

Then comes all the underlining. Believe me, I am a huge believer in underlining, but it's almost as if she was reading with her eyes closed and just picked random sentences with the most articles in it because they weren't in my opinion anything quite relevant at all... at ALL. Perhaps some cute smart boy was watching her read this novel and she wanted to look like she was getting a lot out of it so she began to underline? I don't know... If you want to see for yourself, I can lend the book to you.

There is also a note; Sexual stuff on page 119

Wow. Good to note. I hope she did great on her paper with that one!

It trails off after the middle and there are only a few short and shaky lines underneath random words from the middle to the end so I am thinking she either did not finish, got extremely bored with reading or noting her pertinent passages or the boy who was watching her walked away and never came back. Furthermore, there was a stack, a stack of note cards shoved in the center-- they were blank. Where is Sherlock when you need him? See how much fun all this can be? Trying to figure out the life or some previous owner from these weird little fragments left behind?

So, like I said, buying a brand new book can save you from this nonsense, but there are times where I really enjoy catching a glimpse into (and apparently mocking) the life and intelligence of some other previous reader. And who knows, some of my old books are out there and someone is probably saying the exact same thing...