Remembering suddenly

This morning I was reading the newspaper. It is an old newspaper. Well, maybe not that old, only about a week or so. It was an English newspaper, and so I expected everything in it to be about the British Isles, about things which concern the British. But then, in the travel section there was an interview with a Norwegian author. T and I are currently reading his bestseller together. It has been translated to English, and was a gift to us from a dear friend. And suddenly, while reading the interview in the newspaper, I was reminded of my grandmother.

My grandmother used to cut the book reviews out of the newspaper. Not all the book reviews, but those which were on books which interested her. Sometimes she would already have bought the book and she was waiting for the review. Other times she would a review in the paper, cut it out and then go and buy the book. And the cut out book reviews were then put where they belonged - inside the books they reviewed.

It gave such honour - both to the book and the author as well as to the review and the reviewer. It gave them a life together, jut like it was meant to be.

I have some of my grandmother's books. I love opening them and seeing the review lying there, greeting me, bidding me welcome into the book's world and more importantly, into my grandmother's world. I never asked her, how she came to cut out the reviews and put them inside the books. But I like it. A lot. And I miss her. A lot. I think I will go and cut out that interview with that Norwegian author now. I'll go and put it inside the book he wrote.