The Mystery in the Book

by Kim Harris Thacker

 (image via)

You’re at the bookstore, and you spot The One. At least, you think it might be The One. You’re willing to give it a shot, anyway. You pick it up, admire its heft and attractive size, take a breath, and as the book falls open, you surrender yourself to the unknown.

This is a moment of pure magic.

I’m one of those readers who becomes completely absorbed in what she’s reading. If I don’t save my reading time for after my kids are in bed, chances are I’ll forget to make supper. But it isn’t always a gripping story that grips me; every now and then I find a thing in the book that just doesn’t belong there. It could be a newspaper clipping, notes written in a margin, or even a Polaroid. Regardless of what it is, it’s a glimpse into another reader’s life.

I have a really old copy of Daniel Deronda, by George Eliot, in my possession. It’s not a first edition, and it’s in bad shape, so it isn’t worth anything—at least, not in terms of money. The story is of immense value to lovers of Eliot’s work, for sure. But there’s more: If you open the front cover, you will find a faded note:

If my name you

wish to see

Look on pg

103.

Charming, right? I just love a good mystery! On page 103, it says:

My name is [arrow pointing to the title of the book]

Look on 603

On page 603:

Look on 738

On page 738 (the last page of the book):

Ha! Ha!

Crazy now don’t you

know any better did you

have a good chase.

Why, yes, Daniel, you doll, I did have a good chase!

Daniel Deronda isn’t my only old, “worthless” book that contains something (other than the text) that makes it of great value, at least to me: I also own an 1893 edition of The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. This particular copy of Longfellow’s poems is inscribed on the inside-front cover with what looks like a fountain-penned message:

To my dear Sam

Sheldon –

Mother –

Dec 23 –

1902.

Isn’t that a wonderful message? But that’s not the only great thing contained within these dusty pages. There are also a number of portraits of well-known poets, cut from a newspaper. There’s Bryant (William Cullen), Longfellow (Henry Wadsworth), Scott (Sir Walter), Lowell (James Russell), Whittier (John Greenleaf), Tennyson (Lord Alfred), and Browning (Robert).

When the clippings are turned over, the reverse side reveals snippets from old “society pages”:

The first large society event of the week

will be the charity card party given by

Mrs. George Richardson, Mrs. W.W.

Grissim and Mrs. Stephen B. Ives.

These three ladies are active workers in

the Little Sisters’ Infant Shelter, and are as-

suming the responsibility of this affair as their

part toward the swelling of the fund. It will

be conducted on the order of a private card

party. Friends will be together and every-

thing will be congenial. The women will be

in evening dress. As many people do not play

cards, spectators’ tickets can be purchased

from the three ladies I just mentioned. It will

be an interesting sight to watch the players

from the balcony, and no doubt the place will

be crowded.

Who was this person who clipped poets’ portraits from the reverse side of society pages? Was it Sam Sheldon? Or was it his mother? It’s a mystery that fills me with delight!

Have you ever bought a book only to discover that it contained a surprising treasure, beyond the story?