With impeccably fortunate timing, my husband was out of town when the local library chain had their annual sale of books they no longer need. Such sales, here in Perth at least, are typically held in dingy underground car parks that are badly lit and have an odd smell. This one was no different, except that the poor lighting also had a habit of going out completely every now and again. The smell wasn’t so bad, though.
But I didn’t care a bit. Scavenging through shelf after shelf of discarded books, …