I just love stumbling upon old favourites. There’s nothing that tugs at the heartstrings quite like nostalgia – yes, even this hardcore crime reader has her moments of sentimentality. And if you combine nostalgia with my other great love – bookselling – you’re bound to find me sniffly and homesick for my day job. Yes, I have been fortunate enough to be, in one way or another, involved with that dreamiest of dream jobs for just a smidge longer than five years now.
If you’ve ever worked in a bookshop, you’ll know the agony and ecstasy of stacking those sacred tomes, locating the ever elusive “it had a blue cover” title (a bookseller’s proudest moment) and the struggle of not coming across as overly obsessed as you launch into your top ten reasons why Donna Tartt’s The Secret History is only the best read ever. And by far the best part of bookselling is placing a recommendation you’ve carefully selected into the waiting hands of a fellow reader and hoping they’ll love it. Hardly anything compares to the strangely addictive feeling of trepidation and delight as you watch them saunter away, knowing that book might just change their lives. So, when I discovered Gospodin Libar quite a few years ago, it was love at first read.
Cue this evening: me aimlessly browsing, completely ignoring the stack of books I’ve been dipping in and out of (for shame!), and again this very special story pops up in my newsfeed. What is a bookworm to do, but share the bittersweet feels? First two panels posted below, please do follow the link to Library Cartoons to read the complete version.