September 26, 2012
[A]s a genre, online anonymous comments drain the blood from my face and twist my heart into a knot.
But last night the blush returned to my countenance — no, my entire being — when I found this note tucked inside a book of short stories by Irwin Shaw.
On the last page of the story, “A Year to Learn the Language,” was this note written with a blunt-tipped pencil on stationary adorned with a nighttime Christmas scene:
You, who reserved this book before I had a chance to extend it (it is due tomorrow, Thursday, April 1st, 2010), what did you think of this story?
Wasn’t it great?
I think I have found a new favourite writer.
If you wish to share your thoughts, and if you’ve reached this point [page 354], please do so at firstname.lastname@example.org
I plan to read this story to my future wife, wherever she is.
And if you want, keep this in the book for the next person.
From one reader to the next,
This is how life should be, but often isn’t.
Long live paper.♦