I had an hour to kill before attending the reception at the Augusta Literary Festival this past Friday. The reception took place in a banquet hall in the main branch of the library. I went upstairs and browsed the fiction section, where I was drawn, inexorably, or just because I didn’t feel like stopping, past the alphabetized stacks from A through U, to the last set of stacks, where I pausedbefore the Y’s. There, on the second shelf from the bottom, my eyes rested on a long shelf of books b...
Published on March 06, 2016 14:27