One of my favorite parts of the Upper West Side of Manhattan is the used book sellers that populate the stretch of Broadway between 72nd and 75th Streets. On Thursday evenings they are out in force, and tables stand nearly end-to-end for the entire three blocks.
Before my weekly grocery store trip, I always stop for awhile. I love hunting through the stacks of books - sometimes buying, sometimes browsing - somehow seeing the order in the haphazard piles.
Imagine my surprise last Thursday night when I noticed this. Four of my favorite Noras, all piled up. I wished for a second that I didn't already own all four, so I could buy one.
Yesterday I went back to that table to browse, and while three of the Noras remained, Northern Lights had disappeared.
As I write this I am thinking about the anonymous buyer, settling in to the couch, absorbing the love story of Meg and Nate, and the devastating beauty of Lunacy, Alaska.
I hope they enjoy it.
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