I know it doesn’t have a cover. I know it isn’t even in the genre I prefer to read. No, this book was simply found in a box marked FREE on Highway 47 as my husband and I drove further north to Lac du Flambeau. I could find a bookstore anywhere.
The day was rainy and gray, hence the road trip away from our cabin in Pickerel Lake. We bundled into my red VW Beetle and traveled little byroads into civilization.
“Stop!” I yelled as we came upon the sign. For the contents looked promising.
However, the shop was closed on Sundays and Mondays, much to my husband’s relief. No perusing through stacks of antiquated books in the hopes of discovering an unappreciated treasure here. I had to content myself with the piles on the shelves exposed to moist Northwoods air.
But, as I picked up this thriller by Tami Hoag, Ashes to Ashes, I felt a thrill other than an author could provide. I felt the the heft of pages worn by time and weather, as well as other hands. I smelled the old glue, and wood pulp, and bits of moisture before they turn to mold. I relished the cost of this book ($0.00) which is priceless when compared to the e-ink on countless e-readers which harbor no imprint of people at all.