Most of my life, I've wanted to build up my own personal library. To this end, I've tried to buy used rather than check out most of my reading from libraries.
One of the best ways this has paid off is my motley collection of books, which can bring back memories or stories. Even some books, like the fun, eclectic JP Patches one, stick with me for decades after. Plus, I've ended up with books that give a little spice or originality just because they're hard to find or come from a specific time or place in life. The Professor's Wife falls into this category, and it was a pleasant surprise to come across it recently while digging around upstairs.
Back in college, especially during the six months when I lived in the U District, I had a habit of hitting the Hub's branch of the UW Bookstore, especially for the great, changing selection of clearance books. Many of them still sit unread on my shelf, because impulse control has never been a strong suit.
One time, as I'm heading up to the counter with a little stack, the guy behind the counter remarks something like, "You remind me of me when I was younger," how he'd noticed me a few times, and something about how he had a habit of being a bookworm who started at the clearance shelf, too.
I'd seen him a few times before and we only ever made small talk, but I liked the guy, still do (even though I haven't seen him in years). Can't remember the exact course of the conversation, if I mentioned I wanted to be a writer or we were comparing some of our reading preferences or what. He commented that his love for books extended to writing as well and that he'd published a few things—in fact, he was even able to get his books into the Bookstore. This, of course, seemed pretty cool.
Impressed, I asked more and he points: boom, right there on the counter is one of his books for sale.
I still have it, it's pictured above: The Professor's Wife.
Nick and I never talked a whole lot after that, unfortunately, but we crossed paths a few more times, made our usual small talk, and I hope he knew I had a lot of respect for him. Bummer for me, I also missed a prime opportunity to ask him for a signature, but I'm an absentminded man. (I didn't get around to reading the book before I graduated and meant to go back and ask after I'd read it so I could give him some specific praise and show him I'd taken the time, but anyway).
Either way, I do still reflect on Nick sometimes and his book as well.
I never fail to come back to thinking: wow, talk about living the dream. He works at a bookshop, on a prestigious academic campus, is a writer who gets to keep writing and enjoying it (with a job that allows him to synchronize his work and his joy), and he's probably got plenty of time to keep up on reading a ton of the books he sees coming in and out every day. That's pretty damn cool!
Returning to our conversation and his remark on reading a lot: his experience and knowledge with literature reflects in The Professor's Wife. While time has passed since my reading, I recall DiMartino's easy scene-setting, from the inconsequential bickering of a married couple to the casual camaraderie of two old pals, as well as subtle allusions and cultural nods.
The book itself tells the story of a couple whose life takes a tumultuous turn from marital bliss to uncertainty when husband Colin starts to notice signs his wife, Rachel, is hiding things from him and begins trying to piece together these odd little tidbits, especially in relation to an old friend of his.
DiMartino's ability to tinker and toy with expectations and tropes also brings an added layer of enjoyment. One particular revelation in the plot reminded me of this—at first, the story seems to following one route—then you think you can guess a twist coming down the line and what it might be—and then your expectations are subverted altogether. With the rug swiftly pulled out from under me, I remember thinking, "Now it seems so obvious! And I never would've thought..."
A less subtle example would be the early name-dropping of The Postman Always Rings Twice.
Being able to subvert expectations like that is a pleasant surprise, especially when you've been almost lulled into a false sense of, "I think I can guess how this turns out."
DiMartino also uses local settings, only to be expected given the scenic Seattle area—as well as for another, more plot-relevant reason involving our maple-syrup swigging, moose-riding neighbors to the north. And who could blame a bookseller for using his comfortable familiarity with the bookstore to turn it into a setting?
I find this lovely on revisiting the title—some of the descriptions I kinda skimmed while I was reading in an armchair at Keeler's Corner one afternoon the summer after college were much more evocative now that I've been out of Washington for over three years and, even before that, can't remember the last time I visited Seattle, let alone UW. It's nice to have some of those places, memories, images, come back to mind, especially going into autumn, one of the most scenic of seasons in the Seattle area.
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