The Price of a Book

“How much does this book cost?” a customer
asks on a cold April day. Outside,
a clear blue sky and bright sun
follows the traffic on Prince
Street. Spring and other things have come
around again, or nearly.

This is Happiness, hardcover, $28.99
seems like such an insignificant amount
compared to the journey it offers through
the Irish country side. And friendship
with Noel, and his grandparents
Ganga and Doady. Christie’s heartbreak,
and an entirely new way of seeing
the rain.

A Prayer for Owen Meany, paperback, $19.99
Astounding how a book that changed
my life and how I thought about
stories costs less than a few meals
at McDonald’s. Armless, voiceless
Owen, somehow showed me GOD
EVEN IN THE FOG. EVEN IN THE LOSS. EVEN
IN THE MANGER. And a new way of seeing
faith.

I wonder what I would pay for A Prayer
for Owen Meany now, what it would be
worth. Let me say it another way: knowing
what I know now, what would my present self
pay to ensure that my younger self read
that book
at some
point.

$100?

$1,000?

And what number would I put on The Lion,
the Witch, and the Wardrobe, hardcover,
$19.99? How much is it worth
to have read about Aslan
when I was 7 years old? A new way of seeing
God.

Some books are, of course, worth only
the price on the back. Some, perhaps, are worth
even less. But really, when we walk into
a library, or a book store, are we aware
of the immense wealth that surrounds
us? A treasure beyond reckoning?

I think all of this while watching a
kid peruse the middle grade section, picking
up this book, or that one, reading
the back cover copy, staring intently at the
cover, and eventually bringing their purchase
to the front.

I look at the book they are about to
buy. This will change your life, I want
to say, or, Do you realize
what a book can do, or, This
one will break your heart.

But I don’t. I only smile, and place it

in a brown paper

bag, and say,

“That’s eleven-ninety-nine

please.”