One common feature of a university campus is the book-sale:
some arranged in a list and posted (and frequently re-posted) on bulletin boards; while others are physically displayed in some fashion whether in boxes or outside offices, on shelves.
A daily routine frequently brings me by one of our
seemingly permanent book-sale fixtures here on campus. Today, one title caught my
attention so I picked it up. This is not the kind of book that
would usually interest me, but today I could not keep my hands off--today the book was nearly irresistible. I picked it
up, impressed by it’s hardback the relatively good cover condition. I
flipped it open.
An entire page was underlined. I turned a few pages.
More underlining—entire pages. I thumbed through the book to discover that some
reader had meticulously (or perhaps not so much so) underlined the entire book as
it was being read. Reaching the end of the book, the glaring omission of
underlining suggested to me that these few pages had been completely ignored.
Curiouser, I noticed through my flipping that nearly
every colon used by the author was circled by the reader.
A creeping feeling came over me and I re-shelved the
book. I may have absent-mindedly wiped my hand on my shirt.
My parting glace at the title was filled with hope
that the previous reader got much out their reading. It must have been a revelation.
