Used Books

Old or borrowed books tell all kinds of stories. As much as i love that new book smell and crisp sound of a new page turning, there is something about a pre-read book that is a bit more enchanting. Not only does one discover the story inside but you get to react to the underlined passages, the bent corners, or the little stains on the cover.
J. gave/lent me a book right before he disappeared - a favorite of his, that would later become a favorite of mine. It took me ages to finish the book - not because of the novel itself but because completing it would have meant finalizing the end of my relationship with J. There was a specific passage that i completely adored - a description of light in Grand Central Station. I still don't know if i liked the description because J. underlined it and wrote, "Exactly!" next to it or if i genuinely just loved the passage. My theory is a little bit of both. The underlined section pleased me on two levels - on a purely aesthetic level of a beautiful turn of phrase and on another level of sharing an insight into J. thoughts and being to agree with him. Imagining him enjoying the sentence was almost as nice as reading it for its own pleasure.
I've bought many books over the years (like that Kundera book in the photo). I love thinking of who could have owned them and why did they sell them back. Sometimes the comments you find make you laugh or at least make you wonder if the person actually paid attention to the book they were reading. Most of the time a little line here or there make you smile, a kind of sharing of secrets of sorts.