The Bookseller
by Mark Pryor
(Seventh Street Books, 2012)
A bell jingled quietly as he walked in, and as the door closed the familiar and distinctive aroma of once-loved books swept over him, the musty smell of paper and dust like incense, a welcoming cloud of calm and serenity.
Page 37.
The snow had receded from the roads, pushed back by a warm Sunday and the workers who had scraped and b rushed the city streets all weekend. Piles of graying slush lay at intervals on the sidewalk, watery at the edges, creating webs of rivulets that streaked the pavement and disappeared into the gutters.
Page 46.
You are from America, where marriage is like a fine suit. You wear and enjoy it for a while, then discard it when it becomes worn or uncomfortable.
Page 108.
There were, in reality, very few of them in this world. Mostly, he tolder her, good people did things that could be classed as good, bad, and everything in between.
Page 144.