So here I am in Memphis, and I did not find Tournier. No “Midnight Love Feast”, nor any of his other books – but, more surprisingly, no “Confederacy of Dunces” either. Two bookstores, no John Kennedy Toole: that’s a first. I am nearly disappointed; who would have thought?

However, at the Book Depot, I did find a nice classics section where it seems every student in town disposes of any literature they may “have had” to read (I recognize the reading list from the International Baccalaureate, amongst others). It seems someone thought that if they liked the Henry James novel the “had to” read enough, they might also like “The Reverberator” –  a comic novel about an American journalist in Paris, which I have never read, and happily take with me for a mere 61 cents.

As I pay, I notice again the sign that I had seen coming in:  “I can only please one person per day. This is not your day.” For a minute, the endless rows of cheap romance and paranormal novels made me believe that, but I was wrong. Just as I would have been wrong to pay too much attention the concerted effort to appear curmudgeonly. There is an advice price rate posted behind the cash register, pricier for “questions that require thinking”, and a sign in the back of the store asking: “Do you want to talk to someone who is in charge, or someone who knows what is going on?”. She may try to seem tough, but the lady who runs the shop knows what is going on, and is unquestionably nice. It would be a loss if this quaint book exchange were to close down by the end of the summer – a distinct possibility, unfortunately.

While in this area of Memphis, I  make another quick stop by Book Traders . Here, there is a separate section for “Paranormal romance”. Must be a local interest?

The official section of “local interest” is actually quite abundant, with many interesting history books. The “international” section is one of the  smallest I have seen: seven books, to be exact, including two volumes of Hemingway in Russian and one volume of Proust in French. I end up buying a “plane book” (this road begun and will end on a tarmack): “The little friend”, by Donna Tartt, which would seem like an appropriate way to end a little trip to the South. Because I paid cash, I am entitled to a free book in a left-over basket: I take home a gothic novel, the pick of the litter.