“Isn’t it strange what happens with old books? They choose you. They reach out to their buyer—Hello, here I am, take me with you. It’s as if they were alive.”  (cf. Pérez-Reverte, Arturo. The Nautical Chart )

Whether it is at a used-bookstore, a thrift store, a Little Library, or the out-of-the-way corner of a bar or brewpub, there is absolutely nothing I enjoy as much as looking through old and previously owned books.

Borges said once that heaven is a library. I hope it is.

I have tried on a couple of occasions to make a list of used books that just called to me and ended up changing my life in some way big or small. A short list would include:

• Sweeney Astray, by Seamus Heaney
• A Drunk Man Looks at a Thistle, by Hugh MacDiarmid
• Green Hills of Africa, by Ernest Hemingway
• Trout Fishing in America, Richard Brautigan
• Weather Central, Ted Kooser
• Parades End, Ford Madox Ford
• Life Work, Donald Hall

The list could go on and on. So many books that matter most (that have had the biggest impact on me) are ones that I simply stumbled upon, purchased on a whim, and read with no expectations.

In that way, books are probably like a number of the significant things that happen in our lives:  unexpected gifts of grace.