Dear Friend:
As I’m browsing my bookshelf, I see I'm missing a number of books.
With great certainty, I believe it’s you who has them. Please return them posthaste.
Of course, I’m happy to share what I’ve been reading. In the end it’s impossible to own ideas – nothing’s really “mine” after all. But if this were to ever go to small claims court – not saying it needs to – I do have receipts, and my name’s clearly marked in them.
One book that’s conspicuously absent is my copy of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. You know the one: the Pulitzer Prize winner that’s in my top five, all-time. We’ve discussed this. It’s a post-apocalyptic story about a father and son’s dangerous journey through a desolate America. It is hopeless from the start, yet I cry every time I read it because it asks the question: What does love look like when everything’s been stripped away – comfort, food, shelter, health, a future, even? Interestingly, the origin of the cataclysm’s never revealed. The reader is left to speculate what injustice led to utter destruction. I imagine it began as something small – a book borrowed by a thoughtless person. perhaps?
Was it Shakespeare who wrote: "Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend…” ? I wouldn’t know, as I believe you have my copy of Hamlet, as well.
Cordially,
Kyle L. White
PS: I see there are a number of your stray books here. Please advise.
