I've been on kind of a used-bookstore crawl lately. There is an Alice Starmore book out there somewhere, with "$12.95" pencilled on the inside cover, waiting for me to find it - I just know it. So, I check when I can, and usually I browse around in case there are any Georgette Heyers in need of a new home.
Georgette Heyer, for the uninitiated, was a funny, shrewd, and dignified author who published between 1921 and 1973. She created the genre of Regency Romance, and her work both inspires and defies imitation. It's getting harder to find her novels, unless you count the new(ish), abhorrently-covered Harlequin printings. I won't have them in the house.
Obviously I am not the only person decluttering, because this tidy pile was sitting, pretty as you please, on the shelf at a local dingy, smoky booksellers.
Isn't that something?
They all came home with me, to join their adoptive family:
and so far I think they are adjusting well.