picture book · loose dust jacket · red cloth boards
a small black cat called orris lives in the rooms behind the
library. each evening, after the
librarian has gone, orris
pushes open the door of the long room and reads — slowly, one paw
to a line — the day's unsorted letters.
most are addressed elsewhere. some are addressed to nobody.
orris does not deliver them. she only reads them, and remembers,
and, sometimes, leaves a single paw-print near the signature, so
whoever opens the envelope next knows the letter has already been
heard. on the last page she falls asleep on a letter from
m. and dreams something the book does not
tell you.
marginalia · librarian's note, in green ink a child returning this book asked: do all the cats read at night? i said: only the ones who learn. she said: oh. that's most of them.