When Maplewood resident Graham Goetz spotted a familiar novel in a neighborhood Little Free Library, he borrowed it, thinking he might finally have time to read it.
Instead, he found proof that a college‑era paperback had quietly followed him across states and several years – all the way back home. That full‑circle moment is now captured in The New York Times’ long‑running, reader‑submitted column, Metropolitan Diary.
Graham Goetz at Lynn’s Little Library, a blue box at Irvington and Essex avenues in Maplewood, where he rediscovered the Don DeLillo novel he’d given away years earlier, ticket stub still inside. (Photo by Marilyn Lehren)
The College Paperback That Wouldn’t Be Read
His story, “Pass It On,” appears in the April 12 column. In it, he begins:
“As a comparative literature major at the University of Iowa in the early 2000s, I bought a copy of Don DeLillo’s ‘Mao II’ to read for pleasure.
“I never got around to reading it at the time, so the book returned to Brooklyn with me after graduation. It followed me through several moves in Manhattan and Brooklyn.”
In recounting the story to the Village Green, Goetz said, “As the story goes, it just sat on the shelf forever and ever.”
Eventually, he decided he was never going to read it and set it out on the sidewalk in Park Slope. It was gone in no time. A few years later, in 2023, he and his family moved to Maplewood.
A Commute and a Familiar Spine
In the evening, he takes the train to South Orange, then walks a mile uphill home, passing several little free libraries along the way. At Lynn’s Little Library, a blue box at the corner of Irvington and Essex avenues in Maplewood, he has gotten into the habit of stopping to check the shelves, even though he almost never takes a book.
“It’s not the first time I’ve spotted something I never finished,” he says. “I’ll think, ‘I should grab this’ – then, ‘I’m never going to read it’ – and keep walking. But for some reason, I felt compelled to take it.”
‘Very Cinematic’: The Ticket Falls Out
In “Pass It On,” he shares what happened next:
“As I flipped through the pages that evening, a bookmark dropped to the floor: a ticket receipt for a performance at the University of Iowa – with my name on it.”
Retelling the moment, Goetz says, “It was very cinematic. The hair on my arms went up; I got goosebumps. I was like, ‘Wait a second. There’s no way that this is a coincidence.’ I even wondered, ‘Did I put this in that box?’”
A $7 ticket receipt from a February 23, 2001 performance at the University of Iowa, tucked inside Goetz’s college copy of “Mao II” until it slipped out. (Photo by Marilyn Lehren)
Mom Says: ‘This Is a Perfect Story’
“I told my mom, and one of the first things she said was, ‘You should submit this to the Metropolitan Diary,’” he said. “This is a perfect story.”
She should know. While this is Goetz’s first Diary submission, “I will say that I’m second-generation.”
His mother, Diane Goetz, had a Metropolitan Diary item published in 1998, about being on a crowded subway and a teenage Graham tying her shoelace – then loudly telling her, “You know, you’re going to have to learn how to do this yourself.”
As for the novel that followed him home: ‘I still haven’t finished it.’”
“I don’t read a lot of paper books anymore,” he says. “Since the pandemic, I’ve become an audiobook person. I’m a fidgeter, so I knit while I listen to audiobooks on the train.”
