Then I celebrated my Wall of Books. I counted the volumes on my twenty-foot-long modernist bookshelf to make sure none had been misplaced or used as kindling by my subtenant. โYouโre my sacred ones,โ I told the books. โNo one but me still cares about you. But Iโm going to keep you with me forever. And one day Iโll make you important again.โ I thought about that terrible calumny of the new generation: that books smell.
Gary ShteyngartIn contravention of my belief that any life ending in death is essentially pointless, I needed my friends to open up that plastic bag and take one last look at me. Someone had to remember me, if only for a few more minutes in the vast silent waiting room of time.
Gary Shteyngart