I was in the literature club during middle school. Every month, we’d read one book off the AP English Literature and Composition reading list, from “The Great Gatsby” to “Cold Mountain” to “Fahrenheit 451.”
But the most memorable meeting by far was the month we read “Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen.
Disclaimer: I’ve only read “Pride and Prejudice” once, and it most definitely was not for the literature club. In fact, nobody other than our club’s advisor had read the book. We spent most of the club’s hour-long meeting time doing nothing, until one of my classmates mentioned how interesting her book’s front and back cover was.
Now, my school was pretty poorly funded (third-worst in state per pupil, in fact), so we had to purchase the monthly books ourselves. Most of us would just rent them from the library, but occasionally our parents had them in their own book collections or we’d find them at a garage sale for cheap.
My classmate bought her copy from a local thrift store’s 50-cent book bin. Inside the front cover was a handwritten note to somebody in the hospital. The writer talked about how they hoped the love story between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would keep them company while they were recovering.
Throughout the book there were little annotations, half of them written in pencil and the other half in pen. Sometimes, the pen would reply to the pencil writer’s comments, a little “LOL” or a heart to show that they agreed.
On the back cover was another note, written to the original owner of the book, talking about how much they enjoyed Austen’s wit and couldn’t wait to get their own copy. Also, would they be interested in getting coffee now that they’re out of the hospital?
I think a lot about that person who gave one of their favorite books to a friend. I wonder if they ever got coffee or what their opinions on “Pride and Prejudice (2005)” were or why the book ended up in that 50-cent bin.
I started collecting secondhand books after that. Some notable ones are an old journal that belonged to a girl with way too many crushes (I get having maybe three at the same time, but 15? Really?), a copy of “Fern: The Green Fairy (The Rainbow Fairies #4)” that a mother bought for her daughter for Christmas, and a copy of “Animal Farm” with three pages of blackout poetry.
I also collect high heels, although that was mainly because my local Plato’s Closet seemed to always be stocked with Guess heels in my exact size. The heels were never in the best condition, but for ten dollars I was willing to put a little superglue to work.
Every time I bought a pair, though, I wondered exactly who owned the shoes before me. After all, I didn’t live in a large neighborhood, and there are only so many people with size five feet and a love for “Guess” high heels. And seeing as there would almost always be a new pair waiting for me, they must’ve still been alive, right?
More recently, I borrowed a used textbook through Barnes and Noble. In between the lines of Rousseau’s dry philosophy were the sarcastic rebuttals of some student who had to suffer through his opinions before me. I wonder what grade they ended up getting for their class. Did they take the same class I was taking? How long ago did they write those comments?
People used to talk a lot about how much they hated getting hand-me-downs. As the youngest sibling, I had a plethora of clothing that was older than me filling up my closet. But nowadays, I seek out hand-me-down clothing, whether that’s from my family, my friends or local thrift stores. I get so much more enjoyment out of the history (or potential history) behind the pieces than simply buying a shirt from a department store.
So, next time you’re at a thrift store, a garage sale or even Goodwill, consider letting your mind wander about who owned this stuff before you. Who knows, maybe you’ll stumble across the greatest love story since Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy or go on a hunt for the person who has the exact same shoe size and taste as you.
Or maybe you’ll just find a really nice sweater vest.
