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.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbqqzI78thO1O0OHNpckyLcde-hHux9W52fP1GCo9Z6MJOV_bRlUlTdzUZBFiWxfV5YRH7-A8Wa9_-lA1wf9D0WkONh-atpmhqwWpAN-93DQlZk15SDt3fg-ZyA24-4iLmJ-lGXE3-Pc/s400/Thane.jpg)
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.)