For a long time, I collected any William Trevor book that I found in a second-hand shop. At some point, I realised that I had multiple copies of the same book, because they have been reissued with different titles in North America. It didn’t seem excessive: Trevor is worth reading in multiples.
Nonetheless, when it came to reading his stories this month, I wanted to get serious and requested the Collected volume from the library.
Mr. BIP accompanied me to the library that day. There is always good-natured teasing about the number of books I bring home. That day there was additional, still good-natured, teasing about the size of that one.
I was not deterred. Only disappointed that the collected-ness of it only extends to 1992. But – imagine how much bigger the volume would be to include the stories he wrote afterwards.
“‘I am Mrs da Tanka,’ siad Mrs da Tanka. ‘Are you Mr Mileson?’
The man nodded, and they walked together the length of the platform, seeking a compartment that might offer them a welcome, or failing that, and they knew the more likely, simple privacy.”