On Little Libraries and the Divine Unrest

By Thomas Rayfiel

I have many extra copies of my own books. What was I thinking? That I would magnanimously inscribe copies to grateful friends and relatives? To fans? One day, they will be thrown out. I accept that in theory but want to forestall such a final reckoning, give them a last chance to belong, to find a place on a reader’s warm, welcoming shelves. It’s nostalgic and romantic and sentimental, I know. These previously suspect emotions no longer horrify me.

So I walk. There is...