Every girl must have a book club and I am no exception.
However, my diligence in reading every selection has not been extended to my attendance at each monthly meeting.
Last month was my first attendance. It was also where I played hostess. Seven months into membership.
During the evening I told a charming biographical tale which everyone politely listened to and had nothing to do with the book of the month.
I'm going to tell it to you now.
Chapter One
Long ago and far away, before the Internet had proven itself useful to the masses, Mr. Right took me back to England.
It was spring and cold. Nevertheless as long as my feet were warm and Mr. Right stayed on the left side of the rode I was glad to be there. Of course.
One day we visited Bath.
I could tell you all about Bath but this tale isn't about Bath it's about a bookshop in Bath. Hmmm...scratch that. It's about a bookseller in a bookshop in Bath.
This was not the first bookshop we'd visited. For as we toured the southern part of England I was also searching for, and recall this is before the Internet pandemic, a little, somewhat unknown book which was (past tense), very difficult to find in the States.
Chapter Two (which was not told at Book Club)
Longer ago and not as far away I was 14 and visiting my Aunt LP. I was always glad to visit Aunt LP because she had a whole wall of shelves filled with books I could read. If I spent every moment of my holiday with my nose in a book, no one disapproved.
Sometimes I'd stretch my legs in my uncle's palm tree green house.
Sometimes they would drag me on an outing. And I'd bring my book. I can't recall anywhere we went, though I can recall the scent of Eucalyptus trees.
Some of my favorite stories are ones Aunt LP suggested.
The Ordinary Princess
Bridge to Terabithia
Westing Game
But at 14 I was ready for more so she lent me Nevil Shute's A Town Like Alice.
I was a fan. (Though mostly of his earlier works.)
And years later I would begin my collection.
Chapter Three (which was partly told at Book Club)
My treasure collection isn't really worth a lot of money.
But your treasure is where your heart is and mine is in my books. Oh yes, and my bugs.
I found a 1952 A Town Like Alice in London.
I found a very pretty Trustee from the Toolroom in Edinburgh.
I found a 1951 'Round the Bend...somewhere, I've forgotten. Though perhaps the title page bearing the stamp Provo City Library is a clue.
And when Mr. Right took me back to England I began looking for Requiem for a Wren. Seemingly insignificant, some call it dark, it is certainly mysterious, Requiem is a quiet, unknown book.
We'd been to several bookshops and there in Bath, on Pulteney Bridge was one more.
We walked in and our eyes had to adjust to the dark.
The clerk was most likely the owner. He was a stooped old gentleman who barely acknowledged us with a glance. I don't think he even deigned to offer his help. We so looked the tourists. And young to boot. What could we possibly know about antique books?
I stepped forward, "Do you have a copy of Requiem for a Wren?"
He halted his whole body. He put his book down. He looked up and directly at me. He walked toward me very carefully. His eyes were gleaming at mine. He had a very proper British way of speaking.
"Now that was a good book. One of Mr. Shutes better ones wasn't it?"
"Yes it was."
"And I am so sorry young lady that I cannot help you because I do not have a copy of it."
We exchanged a few more words, but frankly when it came to the book I almost didn't care because I was in the presence of a true book connoisseur, and despite my age and perhaps my American citizenship I, miss know-nothing-at-all, had his respect.
(I would have given that last sentence an exclamation mark but when I first typed it in I thought it sort of cheapened the experience.)
Later that week I did end up finding a cheap paperback of Requiem which I purchased and brought home.
Now it's in a basket upstairs.
It isn't allowed near the other Shute books.
The End
Sort of.
So I finished my tale and my lady friends were a wonderful audience. They were so wonderful I let them look at the few treasures I own. Mr. Shutes' books and Wilkie Collins Woman in White circa 1930's.
I don't own many treasure books because I don't go looking for them very often.
But I'm fond of the ones I have.
Epilogue
Today there was a knock on my door.
When I answered it there was one of the ladies from Book Club.
I always thought she was one of the prettiest girls I know and at Book Club I noticed she's one of the funniest too.
She held out a card and present.
She said, "I found this and thought of you."
Then she said goodbye.
My gracious, everyone I know who knows her has all sorts of pleasant things to say about her but no one ever said she was a generous giver to almost strangers.
And look what it was.
A red and gold hardbound Requiem for a Wren.
Thank you Mrs. G.
