The Catalogue of Lost Things
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Every month, our desks at the Review pile up with dozens of soon-to-be published books, only some of which involve writers we have heard of, or subjects we know anything about. More often, we wind up with a mix somewhere between that of a cabinet of curiosities and a Little Free Library stocked by an indecisive grad student; this summer, for example, alongside many debut novels and NYRB reissues, we found an Italian chapbook of cat-themed poems from the eighties and a semiepistolary critique of
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