A Homeless Man Reads Ivanhoe

I took a walk. It was 85 degrees. I saw a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk near a convenience store. How do I know he was homeless? I know.

He was a regular at this spot and we’d engaged in book chat several times. Virtually every time I encountered him, he was reading novels and drinking malt liquor. Sometimes he harangued crows that harangued him back. He always has a friendly disposition and keeps his space clean.

The book was hardback, big and blue. Old. Very old. No title. It was frayed around the edges. It had spots. I stopped near the man. I asked him what he was reading.

“Ivanhoe,” he said, “Sir Walter Scott.”

I said I’d never read it.

“It’s a little slow,” he said. “But great.”

“Writing was so different then,” I said. “More ornate. There was nothing else to do. Why not describe everything.”

He ran me through the list of characters, Ivanhoe, King Richard, Robert of Locksley, Prince John, and others.

I asked him where he found such an old book.

He told me he dug it out of the recycle barrel of a nearby bookstore. He’d saved it from death. In his hands, Ivanhoe still lived. He said when he was finished, it was going into a street library.

Note to self: carry a classic novel in your pocket on all your works. You’ve got an extra copy of Sometimes a Great Notion, the greatest rain novel ever written. It’s perfect for 100 degree days.