Received an email today from the Brussels Bookswappers club. One member reported having read this on the back cover of a book she’d picked up there; a 1917 copy of “The Cinema Murders”:

“The greatest pleasure in this life is that of reading. Why not then own the books of great novelists when the price is so small? In buying the books bearing the A.L. Burt Company imprint, you are assured of wholesome, entertaining and instructive reading. Of all the amusements which can possibly be imagined for a hard-working man, after his daily toil, or in its intervals, there is nothing like reading an entertaining book. It calls for no bodily exertion. It transports him into a livelier, and gayer, and more diversified and interesting scene, and while he enjoys himself there he may forget the evils of the present moment. Nay, it accompanies him to his next day’s work, and gives him something to think of besides the mere mechanical drudgery of his every-day occupation — something he can enjoy while absent, and look forward with pleasure to return to.”

3 thoughts on “Transport

  1. J March 5, 2009 / 4:43 am

    Ouch. That real life is something to be escaped at all costs is a horrid thought, but sometimes too close to the bitter truth. Again, ouch.


  2. Di March 7, 2009 / 12:03 am

    I just worry about being the woman cooking the man’s dinner while he reads … but otherwise, not a bad thought.

    I’ve had some wicked book buying accidents lately, so what can I say except for ‘Hear hear!’


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