Kay is a bookseller in Fécamp, Normandy. Jonathan is American, travelling across France to write a tourist guide. He stopped in Fécamp, left a note and bank notes at Kay’s book-store. The note includes the addresses of the hotels he will stay in during his tour of France. The money is for Kay to send him books. They start a correspondence, talking about the books they like.
Do we know everything about someone who enjoys the same books? Are books a way to tell everything, even the unspoken, the most terrible secret? If you had talked about books that are indifferent to me, if I had chosen books that left you cold, would you have thought of me as if you knew everything about me? Why did I go to you with blind trust? Because I was walking on books, silent accomplices, impish elves? Because your answers would slip other volumes under my steps?