Henrik is fifty-nine. Every morning he turns the key twice, pushes the swollen door with his shoulder, and reaches for the brass lamp above the counter. The green glass shade throws its circle of light across the wood. The space heater ticks on. The dachshund finds his cushion. The parrot says her own name from upstairs.

He has run a second-hand bookshop in a small Danish town for twenty-two years, inheriting it from his uncle along with the apartment above, the animals, and a life shaped around the absence of risk. He wraps books in brown paper. He writes orders in pencil. He does not ask his customers personal questions, and they do not ask him.

Over the course of one year, from a frozen January to a December lit by a single candle, the careful architecture begins to shift. A baker who has been patient for three years asks a question Henrik cannot answer. A young literature student starts to imagine his future in the shop. Two boys who steal a book become something no one expected. And in the attic study of a man who has died, Henrik finds an inscription in his uncle's handwriting that changes what he thought he knew about the life he inherited.

The Second-Hand Bookshop is a novel about the slow courage required to choose a wider life when a narrower one has been so precisely, so safely, arranged.

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