jamiereadthis
Written on Mar 6, 2013
A few years ago I unearthed The Watch in the bargain bin of the local used bookstore. Rick Bass I’d never heard of, but it was short stories, it was the south and west, and Clyde Edgerton (I had never read him, but he’s our local Durham author) said “There is enough energy in this book to shake a house.” Well, okay then. I read “Mississippi” standing in front of the shelf. That was all I needed to know, I was sold. It cost me $1.
It also started the treasure hunt. Where else I could dig up Rick Bass, who else knew his name. Bargain shelves, pocket change. Funny little looks to mention him in the same sentence as any of the greats. No one caught on, no one knew the secret. $3 said the tag on this one, but the big box chain was belly-up and the girl at the checkout shrugged, rang it up for a buck.
Which, just— it undermines the whole system, this. Over and over and over. What’s the point of wealth if this is the kind of stuff you get for nothing.
Also, what I said before, how maybe the only boy I could fall for has these books faded and dog-eared in the passenger seat: I’m sticking to that story.
First reviewed June 2011
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May 2012:
That one book you could put in someone’s hands to explain down to the core some fundamental part of who you are? This is mine.
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February 2013:
Re-read this (of course) after reading the book. I’m so glad there’s hundreds more pages about Wallis. I will read any number of hundreds of pages about Wallis. Wallis might just be the voice in my head.