Connections

     I'm reading Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Book Store by Robin Sloan. Though not very far into the book at the moment, part of it is about connections. I've noticed recently that of the quarter of a million items at my public library, I often grab related books. Sure, I read series fiction, but I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about picking up a book that takes place in London (Falling Angels by Tracy Chevalier) and following it with a book that takes place at the English seashore (The Beach Street Knitting Society and Yarn Club by Gil McNeil). Or reading a book about the making of a situation comedy (The Next Best Thing by Jennifer Weiner), then reading a book about the making of a movie The Lawgiver by Herman Wouk).
     There's nothing on the covers that would connect these books. In fact, often the pertinent information is covered by library barcodes and genre stickers (yes, I know, the bane of all library patrons). It's as if an invisible string takes me from one book to another. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but sometimes I find myself reading several books set in and around Savannah or Paris, both places I've never been. In the past several months I've read The Piano Shop on the Left Bank: Discovering a Forgotten Passion in a Paris Atelier by Thad Carhart (yes, I knew from the onset that one takes place in Paris), then An Unexpected Guest by Anne Korkiakivi and The Bookseller by Mark Pryor, both also set in the City of Light. 
     Generally, little thought goes into selecting a book from the library. Rushing through the library, I suddenly remember that I'm pages away from finishing whatever is on my bedside table, or that I just returned the audiobook I was listening to in the car, or that I'm going to be spending some time with my grandson and he may just take a nap. I better have a book in my bag. I grab something handy. If it doesn't grab me quickly, I'll return it and borrow something else.
     So how does it happen that I read two books in a row set in California? I'll have to pay more attention. Meanwhile, thank you Mr. Sloan, for helping me identify the phenomenon. Now to figure out why it happens . . .