The Books They Gave Me

I was an American living in Canada. He was fascinated by US politics, could recite the names of all the presidents and most of the current members of Congress. Our first giddy phonecall was the night when Barack Obama was elected, and I borrowed a friend’s cellphone to rejoice with him from a bar full of ecstatic Americans. For Christmas, he gave me this biography of Trudeau, but only the early years. (Volume II wasn’t published until we’d broken up.) He apologized that he couldn’t find a copy in hardcover. At the time, I laughed, since most of my personal collection is made up of paperbacks I picked up in thrift stores. For the same Christmas, I had tried to find a copy of the next volume of the Caro biography of LBJ. When I admitted it, he dismissed my efforts, said he already had his eye on a first edition. 

But the Trudeau, I hadn’t started reading it by the time he dumped me, the night before Valentine’s Day. It’s still mostly unread, though I’d probably pick up the second volume, if I found it remaindered or used.