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Books Loved and Lost: A Modern Tragedy
September 6, 2007
Yesterday I visited fellow readaholic, Rochelle.
I pulled up, ran to the door and dragged her to the trunk of my car (no, I didn't push her inside...there was no room anyway). As I've mentioned before, I've turned my car trunk into a mobile library. I'm sure any neighbors who were paying any attention were wondering what shady dealings were taking place. We spent the next 20 minutes rummaging through the boxes. "Try this one, it's really good." "Haven't read this yet, but I've heard great things about the author." "Wow, great cover, I'll take it and I don't even care what the book's about (
laughs and drools at the cover)." "Hey, this is book two in the series, don't you have the first one?" (
You know, this isn't Barnes and Noble on wheels...it's just a 2002 Saturn)
After taking the shopping bags into the house (yes, I do supply shopping bags), the gabfest began. We quickly managed to get through the "how's the family" stuff, but one topic came up and I'm still thinking about it today.

Rochelle's husband is in the Coast Guard and they've had to move many times over the years. As, I'm sure, has happened to us all, things tend to go missing during the packing/unpacking process. Rochelle's biggest regret is the loss of a set of J. J. R. Tolkien's
Lord of the Rings books, given to her by a special aunt when she was eleven. She's read the books many times over the years and as I think sometimes happens, they take on a life of their own. They no longer become books, but memories of time, places and people.

My lost book was
The Godfather by Mario Puzo. It was fall 1969 and I just graduated from high school that spring. To prove my independence, I moved from Milwaukee to Los Angeles (of course, the fact that I was the oldest of nine kids and couldn't wait to have a room of my own might have played into it a little). By Christmas I was so homesick I couldn't stand it and my mom (bless her) sent me a book. I read it three times the first week because it made me think of home (no, not the Mafia part...the family part). By January I was back in Milwaukee and that book stayed with me for years. But, after several moves of my own, I can't find it. I suppose the book itself isn't important, but the memories that it carries.
What about you? Any special books that you've loved and lost? Or any that would break your heart to lose?
Bottom line: Don't try to give someone the second book in a series without having the first one in your trunk.
Posted by Barbara Vey on September 6, 2007 | Comments (18)