There is a special circle in hell
For whomever it is that invented “sale” stickers
That refuse to peel off.
Scraping away at the front cover of a book
Becomes an exercise in precision,
Trying not to rip or ruin an elegant design.
I am reduced to surgery:
A paring knife,
Tweezers,
Cotton wool,
Eucalyptus oil.
And I pad, scrape, pick, and lift
The fading scab of $9.95
From the delicate matte-finished skin beneath.
Continue reading “Reflection: Broken Teeth by Tony Birch”
One hundred years ago, during the early months of 2018, I was out for dinner with friends on Lygon St. They’re two of my favourite people, she a bioethicist, he a rare-books librarian, all three of us spec lit and SF nerds. After he and I finished off a bottle of red between us we wandered into Readings for dessert. It was on the new release shelves that we came across the teeny tiny Penguin Modern imprints. At $2.50 each we all found a few that might be useful. For me it was Orwell’s Notes on Nationalism, Stanislaw Lem’s The Three Electroknights and Fernando Pessoa’s I Have More Souls Than One. As expected, these writers have helped me to see the world, all fresh and shaken, but it was Pessoa who left me shook last night.
Continue reading “Reflection: I Have More Souls Than One by Fernando Pessoa”
The Wayward Girls' Book Club 