Michael came into the shop with a gift for me, a copy of The White Nile by Alan Moorehead, hardbound and heavy, magnificent.
He said, you’ll like this, you know. And I could tell you some things about Alan Moorehead! Whenever Michael refers to a book or an author, he bows, an acknowledgement of his gratitude to them. Sometimes his voice trembles. He will hold a book as he talks about it, leaning over it, turning it, regarding it as though astounded that somehow, it found its way to him!
This always makes me want to read what he is telling me about.
He is on his way to the bakery this morning, to read his current joy, Torill Kornfeldt. I have seen him in there at the side counter, sitting electrified, his cup of tea gone cold.
Hand holding a book by Adolph von Menzel