Found in a Book: Redux

This sum­mer we are re-run­ning my most-read blogs from the past year, in case you did­n’t have an oppor­tu­ni­ty to read them the first time around. I’ve rewrit­ten each one of these, so even if you’ve read them before, you may wish to read them again! Here is the fifth of those articles:

Books, to be sure, are full of words. But some­times you come upon things that peo­ple leave in the books. Over the years of my book collecting—sometimes for research, some­time for read­ing plea­sure— I have found pressed between the pages:

• Four leaf clovers. (Did they bring luck?)
• Flow­ers (As pale as old memories)
• A par­tial­ly filled-in dance card, from 1923. (Why only partially?)
• Postage stamps that wouldn’t, today, take a let­ter fifty yards
• A receipt for the pur­chase of the book, when the book was new and cost two dol­lars and fifty cents (That was long ago!)
• A note explain­ing why the book was being sent as a gift (An apol­o­gy? Thanks?) Author sig­na­tures, along with cryp­tic mes­sages to per­sons unknown, for rea­sons at best vague. “To Charles who will know what to do with this book.”
• Birth­day greet­ings, some­times in child-like scrawls
• Thank you notes (Beau­ti­ful cal­lig­ra­phy, reveal­ing no emotion)
• An invi­ta­tion to a par­ty (Did the recip­i­ent go?)

I always won­der about these left behind items. Were they dis­card­ed, for­got­ten, or in fact, meant to be saved as some­thing mean­ing­ful? Nev­er mind: Each thing sug­gests a story.

My favorite find was a let­ter dat­ed 1898. I found it in a book (pub­lished much ear­li­er) meant for young read­ers, and con­sist­ing of two sto­ries. They were love sto­ries, of a kind. The tales were each about young women, both of whom were choos­ing hus­bands. The first tale was about one who mar­ries for love, and lives in harsh pover­ty. The sec­ond sto­ry was about a woman who mar­ries for rich­es, and lives to be equal­ly unhap­py. The book—not uncom­mon for the day—was meant to teach lessons.

As for the let­ter in the book: (I paraphrase)

“My dar­ling grand­daugh­ter Mary: You are only two and can­not read. I am eighty-nine, and may not live long enough to see you read. But I want­ed to send you these sto­ries because they will teach you a les­son I did not learn. I hope when you choose a hus­band you will heed the wis­est sto­ry in this book. Your lov­ing Grand­moth­er, Dora.”

Ah, but which sto­ry did Grand­ma Dora not heed? Which sto­ry did she con­sid­er wis­est? And what, in fact, did grand­child Mary do?

The answers were not provided.

Maybe I’ll find it in anoth­er book.  Maybe I’ll write the book.