Thaddeus Littleman

A Compatriot in Black at the Library

A satirical novel about a London lad in serialised form

Thaddeus Littleman visits the Study Room at the Waterford Library in Atco, New Jersey. Photo by the author.

With the spare change in my trousers, I made a copy of Emily’s letter. One day I hope to publish “The Collected Correspondence of Thaddeus Littleman.”

Would such an audience exist for innocent and pretentious musings? Who would ever purchase such poppycock?

The Waterford Library was a bright oasis — inside — with new, earth-toned rugs, fresh paint, almost mauve, with comfy, cushioned chairs for reading by the windows — with four orange chairs around a circular table, laminated and clean. I’m writing now in the Study Room. For writing, sometimes I love sound — like the bustle of a London coffee house — and other times, like now, I want to be sealed away from the world and pain.

It’s sound proof, in here. I hear my thoughts reverberate on the narrow walls, like a being living confined to a coffin. Or a monk in a dorm, copying the Word for readers that will one day exist, long after death; a light in…