Al is fond of reading dystopian. A man who feels like a dead man walking continuously living his mundane life as if no joy can be found within. In the middle of his suffering, he met a woman who is also a lover of books just like him-- Regina. Two people lost in different genre meets in an unexpected way.

Bibliophiles had come from hither and yon to the inventory reduction sale at the antiquarian bookshop, a treasure trove of rare books and first editions. The books were shelved alphabetically by the author’s last name; a customer could easily come across a book by Aldous Huxley while searching for Victor Hugo.

Alexander Lincoln Emerson (who generally used just the initial letters of his first and middle names [A.L.]) reached for a first edition of that classic dystopian novel, The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells. At the same moment, Regina picked up Leaves of Grass, by the American poet Walt Whitman. Both fumbled their selections and dropped them to the floor. A.L. picked up the volume of poetry and handed it to his fellow shopper.

The two book-lovers introduced themselves and chatted casually. A.L. was intrigued with her bright eyes and intelligent expression, along with her striking beauty. Regina likewise found him attractive. “When we’re done here, let’s stop at the coffee shop next door where we can talk about our books.” “Hey, good idea!”

Over their cappuccinos and pastries, A.L and Regina became acquainted. He learned she was from Vermont, holds a B.A. in English Literature from Harvard, and enjoys camping and white water kayaking in New Hampshire. She works as a teaching assistant at Dartmouth while pursuing an M.A. (and future PhD) in 19th Century literature. He enjoys dystopian literature and cinema, is from Bristol, Virginia, and holds a BSEE from MIT. He participates in competitive handball and enjoys bowling and casual games of basketball.

“You read dystopian Lit? That’s so cool! There’s quite a bit of 19thCentury Lit that can be considered the foundation, or perhaps the origin, of your favorite genre.” A.L. was surprised by the warmth he felt in response. He considered himself to have a personality that was anhedonic, at times morose, perfectly suited for an engineer at a giant aerospace company. This feeling now was like the time he won that handball championship last spring. No, this is better.

Reginia continued, “Have you ever read Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground? While it’s largely a philosophical work, it portrays a dark image of a future society.”

A.L. replied, “No, I’ve never tried reading that. I once struggled through the over800 pages of The Brothers Karamazov. What drudgery!”

“Oh, Notes is much shorter, less than 150 pages.”

“OK, I’ll try that sometime. Are there other 19thCentury dystopian works?”

“You might like Erewhon by Samuel Butler. It is a satire of Victorian society. Butler’s view was influenced by the rapid changes in society brought about by the Industrial Revolution. He even foresaw Artificial Intelligence and self-replicating machines. But, enough of that. Tell me about the books that are important to you.”

“Well, there’s Make Room! Make Room!” by Harry Harrison. It was the basis for the movie ‘Soylent Green’. In it, climate change and overpopulation have led to a world where the wealthy few have everything and the rest of the world’s billions suffer deprivation.”

“Oh, my.”

“I also like A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess. Imagine a world where adolescents indulge in ultra-violence and speak their own dialect which is a combination of English and Russian slang. It’s a very dark, disturbing novel.”

“Yes, I have read that. Do you read anything not so bleak? Maybe adult-level adventure stories?”

“I’ve enjoyed Hemingway’s novels, especially The Old Man and the Sea.”

“Me, too! A great story of Man versus Nature! Did you ever read Two Years Before the Mast?”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s a memoir, but it reads a bit like fiction. A young man signs onto a merchant ship sailing from New England to California, which was still part of Mexico at the time. The author, Richard Dana, described his work as ‘the life of a common sailor at sea as it really is.’ It seems that Herman Melville was inspired by it.”

“Melville? Oh, didn’t he write Moby Dick?”

“Uh-huh.”

Just then, the server came to their table to tell them the coffee shop was about to close for the day.

As they were leaving, A.L. said, “This has been a delightful afternoon. I enjoyed it a lot. Maybe we can get together again soon to talk about some more books.”

“You bet your sweet …, uh, I mean, yes, of course. I would like that. How about Thursday afternoon at the Student Union?”

“OK. See you then.”

Regina left wondering, “What should I read now to interest him?”

Meanwhile, A.L. wondered, “What should I read now to interest her?”

It’s Thursday afternoon. At the Student Union, Regina is sitting at a table near the coffee cart. She looks up and smiles when A.L. joins her. He offers to buy her coffee; she requests a caffè macchiato. He returns with her drink and a cortado for himself and two apple galettes.

After the usual pleasantries of “How are you?” and “It sure is a nice afternoon”, she asks, “Do you have a book you’d like to talk about?”

“Yes, indeed, I sure do! I decided to read something that both fit my interests, that is, a dystopian novel, and that was written in the 19th Century, which I thought you might like.”

She smiles again and looks into his eyes. “What did you choose?”

Somewhat flustered and trying not to show it, he replies, “I read The Last Man, by Mary Shelley. Have you read it?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it about a plague that wipes out humanity? It’s a shame that most people think that the only book she wrote was Frankenstein. Please tell me about it.”

“Yes, the plague puts me in mind of the COVID and Ebola epidemics of the last few years. More than that, I identify with the main character, Lionel Verney. He has been described as ‘A man who feels like a dead man, walking continuously, living his mundane life as if no joy can be found within.’ I, too, live with anhedonia, with emptiness, loneliness, and isolation.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You seem so full of energy and life.”

“Oh, that’s just a façade, an image I employ to protect myself. But, really, I don’t like talking about myself. Tell me about the book you chose.”

“Well, like you, I sought a 19th Century dystopian novel, The Begum’s Fortune, a lesser-known novel by Jules Verne.”

“Afraid I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s one of Verne’s Voyages extraordinairesseries. Two men, one French and one German, inherit vast fortunes. The French man uses his wealth to establish a utopian city. The German also builds a city, of which he is an absolute dictator. The German creates a great military-industrial complex, with the intention of first destroying the French utopian city and then establishing German world domination. His realm, with its dystopian elements, collapses upon his death. The book is filled with anti-German ethnic slurs and propaganda.”

“Wow. I am definitely adding that to my reading list.”

Regina finishes her drink and says, “You know, it’s such a beautiful day. Let’s go outside and continue our discussion on a bench on the Commons.”

Her companion replies, “Great idea!” He takes a last bite of his galette and a last sip of his coffee. Then they both go out to the sunshine.

It was a dark and stormy night. Oh, so what? That was yesterday, and today was bright and sunny, just a little cool, with a slight breeze. Bibliophiles Regina and A.L. again met at the Student Union for pastries and coffee and to discuss books. Both had selected novels from the1880s. Regina’s choice was The Land of Darkness, by Margaret Oliphant, while A.L. had chosen The Fixed Period, by Anthony Trollope.

Once upon a midnight dreary. It’s certainly not midnight, but a bright afternoon, yet a dreariness seemed to envelope the two book lovers. Of course, dark clouds arose to cover the sun. Regina provided just a brief, almost superficial, description of The Land of Darkness; likewise, A.L. mumbled and seemed withdrawn when he spoke of The Fixed Period. However, both of them became more energetic when Regina pointed out the similarity of The Fixed Period with a1991episode of Star Trek: TNG titled “Half a Life”.

A feeling of doom and gloom settled over A.L. His companion likewise felt regret that their relationship seemed to be ending. However, Regina was not willing to give up. “Hey there, fella! Maybe we’re reading too much of these dreary, dystopian works. We both need a change of pace. What else do you like to read?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Most of my other reading is either current events or technical material related to my job.”

“Hey, let’s go for a walk. The fresh air and sunshine will be good for both of us.”

In a few minutes, they were on a quiet path alongside the river. It seemed neither had a word to say. Regina tried again, “Hey, tell me about what you do for a living. Do you travel much?”

“Well, yes, I enjoy traveling. I spent three months last year in Uzbekistan, working to improve the communication and control system for their high-speed railroad between Tashkent and Bukhara.”

“Wow! That seems to be such a remote country, but I would love to visit there, especially Samarkand. Maybe someday I’ll fly away on a magic carpet!”

A smile lit A.L.’s face. “Great idea. I was based in Samarkand, and I often rode the express train to the other two cities. The train was faster and more comfortable than driving. I always got some work done while on board, but I also relaxed or even took a nap. The seats were comfortable and the foodservice was good, better than on most airplanes.”

“What did you like best while you were there?”

“Well, the people I worked with were friendly and hospitable. During our off hours, we would hang out in local teahouses to talk and play backgammon. Most of them spoke conversational English, and they were patient when I tried to talk in Russian.”

“You speak Russian?”

“несколько слов. Немного.”

“What did you just say?”

“A few words. A little bit.”

“Cool!”

“You know, there’s a nature preserve on the outskirts of Samarkand. I always enjoyed going there and just sitting by the Zarafshon River. I spent one afternoon reading Walden.”

“That sounds a bit like that passage from Omar Khayyam – ‘A jug of wine, etc’ You know, I ran across a cute story on a website called Fictish, in which a young woman finds an isolated meadow, strips down, and enjoys a picnic lunch al fresco while reading The Rubaiyat. The story is titled ‘Bug Bites on Her Bottom’”.

“Really? I’ll have to look for that. By the way, did you know that Omar Khayyam studied mathematics at Bukhara? In Samarkand, he wrote a paper Treatise on Algebra."

“Huh? He was a poet!”

“Yes, of course. A poet, a philosopher, a mathematician, and an astronomer. Truly a polymath, a Renaissance Man. He and his fellow scholars were far ahead of Europeans of his time, who were waging the First Crusade.”

A.L. had become quite animated as he talked. As he waved his arms about, he accidentally touched Regina’s bottom. It truly was an accident. He was terrified that she would think he did it deliberately, that he was getting fresh with her. However, she appeared unaware of the contact. His relief was considerable.

As they parted for the day, A.L. said, “Hey, next time we’re together, I’d like to hear what you enjoy besides 19th Century literature. You once mentioned kayaking.”

“Okay, I’d certainly would like to see you again.” She moved closer and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “Auf wiedersehen. Remember, that means ‘See you later’”.

“As does ‘Au revoir’”.

Ecstatic? Walking on air? Are these terms too strong for what I am feeling? A kiss and an interest in seeing me again! Whatever you call it, I feel really happy.

Okay, so the next time we get together she might talk about kayaking. Is there a way I can connect that hobby with our mutual love of reading? Probably not. Oh, I got it. If I just knew where she liked to kayak, maybe I could find some fiction related to that area. I think I’ve heard of the White Mountains as a good place for canoeing and white-water rafting. Hmmm, I’ll just have to find a relevant book. Watch out, Google, here I come!

In just moments, I learned from Wikipedia that “Nathaniel Hawthorne chose the White Mountains as the setting” for four of his stories. I’ll have to check – are these included in Twice Told Tales? Also, the novel Eight Cousins, by Louisa May Alcott, features the same area. Oh, I see. The Alcott family lived in Walpole, New Hampshire, for a while. Eight Cousins seems to be the story of an adolescent girl, one of a type called “Little Women”; I’ll skip this one.

Two of the stories mentioned in the Wikipedia article, “The Great Carbuncle” and “The Ambitious Guest”, are included in Twice Told Tales. I’ll easily pick up a copy of that book at the library or at a bookstore. The other two, “Sketches from Memory” and “The Great Stone Face”, might be a little harder to find.

“The Great Carbuncle” is a ‘morality story’, with elements of adventure included. This might be a good item to discuss with Regina. I read a brief synopsis of “The Ambitious Guest” and didn’t care for it. Likewise, “Sketches from Memory” and “The Great Stone Face” are 19th Century morality pieces about ambition and conceit; not for me.

Hey, this novel sounds like something for the two of us to discuss. It’s Look to the Mountain, by LeGrand Cannon, Jr. It’s neither 19thCentury nor dystopian, but at least it’s set in the White Mountains, and it sounds like it might be interesting, a story of pioneer life.

**************************************************

Okay, I’ve read Look to the Mountain, and I’m ready to discuss it if we talk about books. I enjoyed it, and it was certainly a change from my usual dystopian fare.

I’m sitting in the Student Union when Regina arrives. With a quick wave and a bright smile, she walks past me to the coffee cart and orders two cappuccinos and two (New Hampshire) blueberry muffins. She comes over to me and says, “Hey there, A.L.! I decided it was my turn to buy the coffee and treats!” I think, “Wow, that’s really generous of her.”

Of course, she has read Hawthorne’s Twice Told Tales, and we discuss the ones familiar to me. My choice, Look to the Mountain, was unknown to her, but she is intrigued by my description. She is very pleased when I offer to lend her my newly-purchased copy.

After a pause in the conversation, we finish our refreshments and step outside for a stroll along the river. I say, “I’m interested in your kayaking hobby. What do you like about it? Is there anyplace in particular where you like to go?”

“Yes, I love going to the White Mountains, near Franconia. The Pemigewasset River flows through beautiful forest scenery, and it includes both Level II rapids and stretches of calm water. Hey, would you like to come with me? I plan a trip there to catch the spring runoff in a few weeks.”

“Wow, that sounds great! Of course I’d like to join you.” Her face lights up at my response.

***************************************************

On a mild spring day less than two weeks later, Regina picks me up at 8:00 am. In less than two hours, we’re quietly floating in our kayaks on the ‘Pemi’ River. I’m wearing my ‘tacky khakis’, outdoor clothing. She surprised me in shorts and a T-shirt. I never imagined she had such nice legs. In this quiet stretch of the river, she shows me how to handle my craft and paddle. We talk about the scenery and the birds which fly about us as they snatch insects from the air above the stream. She also tells me how to handle the rapids which we will soon enter.

Wow! No wonder she enjoys this sport! Shooting the rapids is the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done! Soon, we’re both wet from the spray. In fact, before we reach calm water, we’re both soaked. Oh my!!! Regina’s T-shirt is thoroughly soaked and clinging to her. I see immediately that she isn’t wearing a bra. I mustn’t stare; that would really be rude! She says, “Oh, relax A.L., my friend. Go ahead and look. I don’t mind. Later, I’ll change my top. I have another one in a waterproof bag in my backpack.” I’m quite speechless; all I can do is mumble something like, “Okay.” Hey, she called me her friend! Um, it suddenly seems very warm here on the river. My face is burning. I wonder what effect this incident will have on our friendship.

After we shot the rapids and after Regina’s soaking, we traversed a quiet stretch of the river. Regina didn’t seem at all bothered that her T-shirt was soaking wet; I think she must have been quite chilled, but she gave no sign of discomfort. Good thing it’s a warm, sunny day.

Regina chatted quite naturally, while I was still tongue-tied with embarrassment that she had seen me looking at her breasts. At times, we kept a comfortable silence while the current carried us along. In one particularly quiet spot, she said, “I’ll put on a dry top, now. What do you think, my friend?” I wasn’t at all sure what she meant, and I could only mumble an inarticulate reply. I turned my kayak away from her and paddled a short distance downstream.

My companion soon joined me. “A.L., it’s quite understandable that you felt embarrassed when you saw me. I certainly don’t blame you. It’s only natural that you looked at my breasts. But you didn’t make any suggestive comments. If you peeked at me again, you were discreet. You showed me a great deal of respect, and you respected my privacy. You demonstrated that you are a true friend and a gentleman. Thank you so very much!”

Wow!! Now I had anew reason to be embarrassed, because of her praise. I felt warm and happy all over, but I was still inarticulate. Well, not quite. I managed to quote a passage from Henry IV, Part I, “The better part of valour is discretion.” With the brightest of smiles, she replied, “Then, my noble knight, I salute your valour!”

After a peaceful, companiable hour, we arrived at the kayak company’s pier. We returned our craft and paddles; then the business drove us back upstream to where we had left our car. Before I started the car for the drive home, Regina leaned over to me and gave me the most incredible kiss of my life!