There’s a small thrill that comes with a new hardcover arriving by courier. Especially when it’s wrapped in that unmistakable Dan Brown energy, the promise of codes, symbols, conspiracies, and a few late nights you’ll regret the next morning but secretly enjoy anyway.
Today it happened again.
Dan Brown’s latest instalment in the Robert Langdon series is finally in my hands.
I first stumbled into Langdon’s world through The Da Vinci Code, way before movies and internet debates and endless theories made it a cultural phenomenon. Back then it just felt like discovering a doorway into a world where history hides its riddles in plain sight. I devoured the book, then the next, and the next. Before long, a small Dan Brown corner appeared in my library.
But somewhere along the way, two books disappeared from my shelves.
And here’s the embarrassing part… I can’t remember who I loaned them to.
That’s the danger of being a private librarian who is a little too generous. Back then I believed in the romantic idea that books should travel, be read, be loved. That knowledge should circulate freely. That the right book should land in the right hands at the right time.
Beautiful ideas, until real life happens.
And real life means this: books don’t always come home.
Some vanish into the homes of friends who forgot.
Some vanish into the homes of friends who “forgot they forgot.”
And some… let’s just say they experienced permanent migration.
These days, I don’t loan books out anymore. Not from this library. Not even the common titles.
It’s not about selfishness.
It’s about stewardship.
A library is a living thing, shaped by years of curation, memory, and the stories behind each acquisition. Once a book leaves your hand, you’re not only lending paper and ink; you’re lending a piece of your history. And with age, I’ve learned that some things are meant to stay anchored.
So now, when a new book arrives, especially one from an author who has accompanied me for so many years, I treat it as a small reunion. A familiar voice returning. Another piece added to the long conversation between literature, imagination, and personal memory.
This new Langdon story will sit nicely with the others.
Even with the two missing volumes, which I still hope might one day reappear by miracle or conscience.
Until then, the adventure continues.
TLDR: New Dan Brown novel arrives, reminds me of my early days with The Da Vinci Code. I no longer loan out books because too many “friendly borrowings” never returned. A private library is a legacy, not a lending service.