Monday, October 18, 2010
MondayMonday
So when I pass along books I've finished reading there are always complaints, carefully phrased, of course -- because a newly-read-passed-along-within-a-day hardcover of a favorite mystery author means the giftee doesn't have to buy the hardcover or wait till it gets to the library/in paperback -- of the state of the book, which is always 1. without outer cover 2. pages turned down 3. notes in margins 4. every page crinkled and 5. blotched where water has caused the cloth cover ink to run.
No mystery here. I read in the bath, nearly immersed. One of the great pleasures in life. No deep tub in Oregon, as the folks lived in a 76 doublewide. The tub was 16" deep and molded plastic.
But Brooklyn tubbing. . . perfection. The only question is: When will book publishers learn to make the dyes and inks on the cloth covers waterproof?
On the other hand, dyes that transfer to wet hands (where they become semi-permanent) are proof positive that you CAN tell a book by its cover. If you can't put it down, if you read it all in one sitting, a copious amount of dye stains your fingers.
Thus, in handing off a new but abused book to a friend, they remark (looking at your hands): "So you'd recommend it?"
The Black Hand Syndrome.
No mystery here. I read in the bath, nearly immersed. One of the great pleasures in life. No deep tub in Oregon, as the folks lived in a 76 doublewide. The tub was 16" deep and molded plastic.
But Brooklyn tubbing. . . perfection. The only question is: When will book publishers learn to make the dyes and inks on the cloth covers waterproof?
On the other hand, dyes that transfer to wet hands (where they become semi-permanent) are proof positive that you CAN tell a book by its cover. If you can't put it down, if you read it all in one sitting, a copious amount of dye stains your fingers.
Thus, in handing off a new but abused book to a friend, they remark (looking at your hands): "So you'd recommend it?"
The Black Hand Syndrome.
