I'm following a trail of books. Those valuable ones sought by an obsessive collector of books.
"Cordelia knows books. An addict-turned-dealer of classic paperbacks, when she's not spending her days combing the charity shops and jumble sales of suburban London for valuable collector's items, she's pining for the woman of her dreams and nimbly avoiding her landlord's demands for rent."
I'm a fan of author Andrew Cartmel's "Vinyl Detective" series: the first of which, Written In Dead Wax, I reviewed almost immediately after finishing it ― probably due to my surprise at how much I enjoyed it. What was most apparent to me, other than Cartmel's ability to lead the reader along a circuitous route, was his obvious love of collecting vinyl records. Being in the groove helps spin an entertaining tale.
This reader was aware that the author also loved books, including vintage crime novels. When he launched his new series, "The Paperback Sleuth", I quickly grabbed the first book in the planned collection. It was a shrewd move. I'm enjoying Death in Fine Condition, so much so that I'm tearing through its pages. ("No! Careful. Handle with care.")
I gotta know more about Edwin. I think I've met him before.
"Tinkler?! What the...?"
Collectors of all sorts will relate:
"But by the time Cordelia had got in here, with that big window looming balefully over her, all the good stuff had gone."