Firstly, on Friday, on the Marple flyer, I squeezed into my seat and popped open my latest book - A Week in December by Sebastian Faulks, a book published in 2010. The guy across from me was not only reading the same book, but the same edition and was only marginally further into the 392 pages than me. "What are the chances of that?" I asked him, holding the book up. He was about my age and was dressed in a similar way too.
Logic, rather than magic, deduced that the chances of two similar men reading a Faulks book are still longish, but not impossible. Novels can take time to catch on. Faulks is everywhere at the moment, with the TV adaptation of Birdsong appearing on Sunday night. My book was passed on by a mate at work, he thought I'd really like it, and I do. Maybe the other bloke had the same encouragement, its themes are current and modern. It's not quite like the One Day phenomena, where word-of-mouth saw interest explode, but it's not a surprise.

I am occasionally inspired and awestruck by serendipitous moments, but these weren't them. Just a load of middle class white people all liking the same kind of stuff.
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