I have a saying I drag out now and then. It goes: 

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover;  but judge a person by the cover of the book they are reading.” 

  As a result, I am always curious to learn what others are reading, especially in public. 

  One summer day similar to the one pictured above I was strolling through the historic Carré St. Louis here in Montreal, again, pictured above. A young man was reading a book and he caught me going through the surreptitious contortions I use to see what people are reading. At times they are not very subtle. Anyway, he graciously held up his book for me. “Uh oh,” I thought, “Michael Foucault, that means dark and angry.” We fell into conversation. I wasn’t wrong. In his early twenties, he was alienated, bitter, and railed against power structures, capitalism, the whole shebang. He told me about his involvement with the local anarchists and revolutionaries. Their headquarters is above a bookstore I’ve meandered through specializing in that sort of thing. I liked him, and saw a little of myself a lifetime ago in his anger and isolation. Back in my day though the books were just as likely to be Dostoyevsky, The Beats, Celine and Bukowski. 

  Fortunately I discovered Henry Miller, a man who’s anger with the world, alienation, and self-loathing was transformed into joy and laughter during his poverty stricken Paris years. I still read Tropic of Cancer every year or two for the sheer life exuberance and finger flip at our tub thumping jingoistic sabre rattling world. And on top of the simple glorification of every day life Tropic also introduced me to two names who have easily stood the test of time for over three decades now: Elie Faure and Oswald Spengler. Two Giants of the Human Spirit as I like to refer to them. 

  Anyway, eventually the young man and I parted ways, but not before I mentioned a few Giants who have accompanied me on my own journey, like Miller, Campbell, Faure and Spengler. I have no way of knowing if he in his fury took any note of anything I said that day. 

  Regardless, I wished him the very best on his life’s path. 

  “Planting seeds,” I like to call it.