Strange Generosity

I walked into Lakeshore Coffee this afternoon with my laptop bag and Catch-22 under my arm. As I paid for my small coffee, an older man standing next to me noticed the book and asked if it's still in print. I replied that I wasn't sure, and I had gotten it from the library, but I was pretty sure that books like this never go out of print, you can always find them. He then asked a few questions about the plot and characters and whether I had seen the movie, and I replied that I was only about fifty pages in so far and had not seen the movie so I didn't really know much about it yet. He told me it was one of his favorite books when he was younger, and he remembered when it came out.

I told him I had been on a mission recently to catch up on literary classics that I had always heard so much about but never read. We talked at length about Vonnegut, specifically comparing and contrasting the two I had read in the past month (Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat's Cradle). He made a few recommendations of great books I should read, and I added them to my handy dandy reading list. I thanked him for the recommendations as he sat down with his wife, and I went up to the second floor (where I like to sit when I come here) and got out my laptop.

Not one minute later, he came up the steps and asked if he could interrupt, which was more of a polite formality as I wasn't actually even doing anything. He told me then that he would like to give me some of his old books, dozens of them, that have been on his bookshelves for decades but he doesn't read anymore. He asked if I would give him my address, if I would mind if he sent them to me. I told him that would be way too generous of him. He insisted, saying that they would get more use in my possession than his. He recommended that when I'm done with them I give them away to someone else to read. I once more told him that it sounds wonderful, but it's far too generous of him. He insisted once more that he wanted to do it, so I whipped out my pocket notebook, tore out a sheet, and gave him my address as well as my email address.

He went back downstairs and I elatedly opened up my laptop and set about writing this entry. I'm beside myself with the simple joy that is imparted by a complete stranger's utter generosity, with no expectation of reciprocation. It's completely selfless benevolence. And I very much look forward to passing on the books after I finish them.

The funny part of this story is that just a few days ago I was on the phone with a friend and I had lamented that, only fifty pages in, I wasn't really enjoying Catch-22 so far. He suggested that I just jump ship if I'm not enjoying it, but I said that wasn't the point of what I was doing. I need to finish these books so I can understand them and absorb them, good and bad. If I had quit reading it, I wouldn't have had it with me in the coffee shop, it wouldn't have sparked that conversation, he wouldn't have offered to bequeath to me the books, and I wouldn't be writing this right now.

I suppose the cynic inside me admits the possibility that he may forget about it or never get around to it, and I may never see the books. Even still, I don't think that's entirely the point. I think the point is remembering that there are a lot of assholes in the world, but there are also some genuine good souls. All you gotta do is carry Catch-22 with you everywhere and hope they find you.