ABSTRACT
There is no pleasure so keen as discovering a book to one’s taste, except perhaps that of passing it along to a friend when one is done with it. A book which has suddenly been discovered and read with delight cannot be said to have been read until it has been shared with another. And when the book is not a lone volume, but a double handful of delightful volumes by an author who is consistently excellent as though having written ten volumes at a single sitting, the pleasure of passing them along is a delight almost beyond description.
