Happenstance

As I was getting off the train this evening, I looked over a woman's shoulder to see what book she was reading. (This is one of my bad habits, and I can't seem to stop myself. I just *long* to know what *everyone* is reading at all times. I quiz my poor husband about where he is in books that I've already read, too.) I noticed that she was reading a book by Connie Willis. Her hand was covering the title. "Is that a new book by Connie Willis?" I asked, since Ms. Willis is one of my favorite authors. The woman moved her hand. It was not a new book, it was a copy of _To Say Nothing of the Dog_. "What a coincidence," I said, "I'm just re-reading that book for a book club this Saturday." The woman looked up, startled, and not startled by my nosiness. "Really?" she asked. "So am I." It turned out we were both talking about the same bookclub, too.

This was not as strange as the day when in the morning I ran into a woman I hadn't seen in three months and heard she'd broken up with her boyfriend of several years, and then in the evening I ran into her boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) on the train home.

I love public transportation. It is such a lovely source of serendipity.

Thinking about the internet today, as I re-read the copy of "Surfing on the Internet: a nethead's adventures on-line" that I acquired at a thrift store in Evanston. I loved this book - picked up a copy at the Strand in New York the summer it came out. Still think it's a valuable document in some ways - a record of an internet culture that pretty much vanished when AOL came onto the scene.

Now I must tear myself away from entertainment of all kinds and make posters to promote a film series for the Lincoln Belmont library.