SAKURA MATSURI

Last night, an old friend came over for dinner. We laid the table under the cherry trees, savouring the rare treat of having such fine weather when they are blooming. The cherry flowers looked beautiful in the evening sun and the pan-fried plaices with the new potatoes were delicious. Turn the plaices in wheat flour with only a little salt and pepper, not eggs, for the best result. Sprinkle with dill and fresh lemon juice. Bon appetit!

Just after sunset, as if seizing a golden opportunity, the full moon rose over the Wolf sound turning its calm waters into a shimmering slate of silver. The cherry blossom sifted the moonlight in a flicker of ruby shadows around the fire, making us spend a bucketful of maple wood before we turned in.

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THE SIGN OF THE BOOK

I don’t know what it is with fireplaces that leads book talks in the direction of mysteries and crime stories, but having just read the latest Bookman sequel, The Sign of the Book (2005) by John Dunning, I was curious to know my friend’s opinion of the solution to the riddle.

Dunning’s murder victims often leave behind a large book collection, which holds the key to the exposure of the culprit. I was a little late in solving the mystery (don’t read on, please, if you’d like to read the book!) because I didn’t believe suffering from autism combined very well with forging book signatures. I couldn’t see him achieve the swiftness necessary for the task. Precision yes, but not the flow of the hand, which must be crucial, I think. Actually, most draftsmen can copy a modern signature, I’d say, and not be questioned about it if they stick to the less expensive, commonplace ones that still adds value to a book. Rarer ones have to be studied in detail, I’m sure, to get away with the sorry business. In any case, it’s an odd side to book collecting, I think, that a signature may increase the value of a book many times.

Towards the end of the story, our book detective notes that he has ceased paying extra for a signed copy of a book though he names Raymond Chandler as a personal favourite and one of the few authors exempt from the rule. Book folks often have a soft spot, I’ve noticed, which is not ruled by reason. For his letters alone, I can understand that Chandler could count as such though not necessarily in the original. A well-printed copy of the selected letters, unsigned (but in the jacket) does very well, I’d say, and nobody will club you for it.