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Did you ever put something on your Amazon wish list so long ago that you don't remember why it was there in the first place?

I'm at my parents' this weekend, having stumbled here tipsily after last night's Department Dinner (Junior's in Times Square, inferior to the real Junior's, but the cheesecake still good) - and this morning they dragged me down to the diner and poured eggs and coffee into me. Sufficiently revived, I was suddenly reminded of my current lack of portable reading material. (The Stand, mentioned below, is twice the size of my purse, and I finished the Gregory Maguire book two days ago. Imagine my panic.)

So we went to the thrift store across the street. I adore pawing through musty piles of books in junk shops. It's one of life's purest pleasures for me. I am, you know, Fred Phillips' daughter (and partially raised by Byros.) Mostly what you find is crap, well worth being abandoned to a thrift shop, but sometimes you encounter something worthwhile.

Today I came across Little, Big by John Crowley. I have no idea who John Crowley is, but for some reason, the title struck a chord. Why was this book familiar to me? Was it on my Amazon wishlist? Why would that possibly be?

Well, it is on my wishlist. As best as I can recall, I encountered someone's recommendation of this book-- in person? on Usenet? somewhere else?-- and the recommendation was compelling enough for me to want to read it, so I put it on the wish list and then forgot about it, until stumbling across it today between battered copies of The Corrections and The Rules of Backgammon.

I'm excited and mystified. I wish I could remember why I had it on my wish list. If you're the one who recommended it, make yourself known. Meanwhile, I'll discover whether or not it was worthy of the spot.

Labels: amazon, dust, early alzheimer's, junk, must, novels, reading is funadmental

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:37 PM | shower me with attention