The Real Find

You’ve gone away for the weekend. You’re a tourist, on vacation. You’re wandering around, eating fudge and salt-water taffy, looking at the historic buildings, trying to decide if the shape in the water is a seal or a rock. When you get back to your hotel, you look up the local used bookstore. “Let’s stop by, before we go kayaking,” you might say to your companion. This is why:

And reasonably priced too! Sure, I have other copies, and I’m not a big fan of Rosamond Du Jardin’s Toby Heydon series (the coy, first-person, faux teenager voice grates on me) although Du Jardin’s mastery of the bland exerts a certain fascination, but that cover! What’s not to like? The bolero with the white collar and piping, the plaid string purse, that headband, the gloves; and then the surreal way the male torso grows out of a pile of suitcases and the disappearing train. Is she coming or going? Is it a dream, or is it indeed the real thing?

1 thought on “The Real Find

  1. Is it just me, or does that fellow look like he’s shaking the gal? Violence against women! Shaken girlfriend syndrome! End it, end it, end the silence. Stop it, stop it, stop the violence!

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