Breadcrumbs of Former Passions

Seven paperback books, all non-fiction, were abandoned on a series of trains, in the hope that curious readers might find them, diverting their reading down unexpected paths.

Acquiring books that are not novels often demands that they be read soon after they arrive. Such purchases are frequently sparked by whimsy: a conversation overheard on In Our Time, an article in a journal, or the realisation, while reading a novel, of a gap in knowledge, on the Byzantine empire, perhaps, or the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. These momentary fascinations often cool, leaving behind unread volumes: a breadcrumb trail of former passions.

In this spirit, there has been vacillation over Sarah Ruden’s translation of The Gospels, a potential companion to a small shelf of lucid modern translations of the Bible, partly read but sustaining their presence through their clarity and seriousness.

Reflecting on Rob Doyle’s Autobibliography, a sentence lingers: “When I think about Bolaño . . . invariably I find my way to the conclusion that what I’m primarily in it for is friendship. That may sound corny, but there is no word that better conveys how I experience my relationship to his books.” There is an echo of this feeling toward writers such as Gabriel Josipovici, Anthony Rudolf, and Annie Ernaux, whose work offers not only literary engagement but the sense of an ongoing, essential companionship.

Recent reading included Ellis Sharp’s Lamees Najim, where the tension of the title finds resolution only in the final sentence. It stands as the antecedent to Sharp’s equally compelling Twenty-Twenty.