Hag Mustafa had honey-colored eyes and milk-white teeth. He was a jovial man, invariably dressed in a 1980s safari suit. He gave me the honorary title of doktora. I descended the steep staircase into his shop, a cavern piled with books.... As usual, he offered me a cup of dense Turkish coffee. His delight was apparent as he sifted through the stacks on his desk for my prize. Finally, he seized a stained and weathered cardboard book...