Over the Halloween weekend, between watching copius amounts of films and a sunny Sunday morning trip to the Hellfire Club, the Bear and I went charity shop shopping along our usual route. On this particular venture, we were on a mission to find Ross O'Carroll-Kelly books for my brother, although seeing as this meant intently perusing the bookshelves of all the charity shops on Capel Street, we ended up with enough books for ourselves to almost break the plastic bag that held them. However, as we made our way through all the second hand James Pattersons, Alexander McCall Smiths, Patricia Cornwells and Cecelia Aherns (SO MANY Cecelia Aherns) in the first shop, a certain book in perfect condition grabbed my attention.
THIS book, to be precise:
So many questions. Such as the back to front Es and WHY? They bewilder me entirely. They make me want to shake the book until they rattle back into their rightful position. What's the deal with Miss Floating Cloaked Girl here, out of proportion with everything around her? And why is there a tiny glowing map of Ireland hovering above the larger of the confused Es? As if all that wasn't perplexing enough, check out the back cover.
What the HELL is going on here? Did they copy and paste the text in and then forget to finish it? Also, I hate to sound like a mean and snarky bitch here, but that author photograph is HILARIOUS and missing an exposed chest and gold medallion. I'm sorry.
Having replaced the book on the shelf after shaking my head in puzzlement at it for several minutes, I noticed another copy. Like the first, it was in no way second hand. The spine was flat and smooth, the pages unthumbed and the cover all shiny. I thought it was a bit unusual, but off we ambled to the next shop. And the next. And the next. There are at least five charity shops on Capel Street and this book was in EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Multiple copies of it in fact. Scattered throughout the shelves, all of them in mint condition. It was only in the second shop that I decided to take a picture of each sighting in each shop. And check this out:
It was EVERYWHERE! It's all so MYSTERIOUS! Are they haunted books, planted in charity shops to trick the elderly and those who dig bargains into bringing one home and slowly take over the world with some manner of spooky book ghost mind control? Theories are more than welcome, but if anyone has Jessica Fletcher's number, you get her on the case quick smart before we're all doomed, ya hear?