Last week, we talked about Lost Books, the first of a three-installment series. Writing 101 now tells us to talk about the second installment:
On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something.
Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined.
That pretty much explains today’s post. At least I wouldn’t have to not follow the prompt as it is because I don’t want to think of a twist to the twist. I’m tired as of this moment. I haven’t had dinner and I’m too lazy and I just want to sleep but I’m not sleepy and I want to do this challenge and read a book after and you don’t really need to know about these.
A few months ago, I went home from a book club meeting with a stash of borrowed books. I acknowledge my book hoarding issues but let me assure you that I’m a responsible book borrower and it’s not a habit, yet, that has gone out of control (the books were lent and borrowed for our book club’s year-long “I Dare You to Read…” challenge.
The books I brought home with me were:
- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J. K. Rowling – I just finished the fourth book during that month and I wanted to read this instantly until I saw what a badass doorstopper it is. I gulped.
- Attachments by Rainbow Rowell – Dared, done, and didn’t. It is in contention for my worst read of the 2014. I feel terrible because a lot of my book club friends love it. But it would be worse if I fake it, right? [Other books dared to me were The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (done) and Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (to borrow).]
- Object Lessons by The Paris Review – Recommended to me by Bennard because he thought … well, I don’t remember what he thought. I imagine he thought that I would find it helpful in my own fiction writing.
- The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays by Albert Camus – It just made its way into my stash. No identification marks. I asked the club for the owner. No reply. I checked Goodreads. Nobody owns it aside from my other friends who weren’t at the monthly book club meet. It occurred to me that I may have unknowingly swooped it from one of the café’s shelves that had a small pile of books on it. It was a pretty rowdy day and I was hurrying I should return it to the cafe, right?
I have some cases against it:
- The café is quite far from where I live.
- It’s a book by a Nobel laureate, why give it up?
- It might be depressed because it’s just used as a shelf display.
- Are they even looking for it?
- It’s meant for me.
These officially make me a book thief. Beware! Anyway, how about you? Is there a book that found its way to you?