I love organized bookshelves (daughter of a librarian) so it was painful to remove all the books on the first floor from their bookcases in preparation for the whole floor being painted. In particular, I had to stop to admire two shelves of
Elswyth Thane's books. She has been one of my favorite authors since I was about 14 and my mother left a copy of
Dawn's Early Light on my pillow. Those with good eyes will see I include two books by Thane's husband,
William Beebe, the Jacques Cousteau of his day, although I have not read them yet, rescued by my mother from the discard pile at her library. I believe I own every book Thane wrote except
The Bird Who Made Good. Naturally, some are better than others and I notice that
Tryst, a standalone that is somewhat dated, has gained new fans recently.
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Here is a picture of the guest room with all the books from the living room and my office piled on the floor:
(I did eventually get a copy of
The Bird Who Made Good.)