On a recent plane trip, I was reading The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey. I was halfway through the book when the plane landed.
As we were disembarking a woman behind me said, “That looks like a good book. Is it?”
I said, “Oh, it’s wonderful. I recommend it to you wholeheartedly.”
And then on the trip back home, after the plane had landed and I was walking through the terminal, another person came up to me and pointed to the book in my hand and said, “I’ve been wondering about that book. Any good?”
I said, “I love it. I’ve got 30 pages left. I’ll miss it when I’m done.”
That night, before I went to sleep, I finished The Snow Child.
And yes, I love it. And yes, I can recommend it to you wholeheartedly.
But you know what I wish?
I wish that both times, in both those encounters, I had simply handed the book to the person asking about it.
I could have gotten another one.
I love handing someone a book; it’s the best feeling in the world.
Here, let me put this book in your hands.

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