I loved a book priced in Baht.
Orwell at his persicacious best. A snapshot of raj-esque Burma by a Brit, but it's Orwell, but it's Orwell. I finished reading this book (not this copy, I imagine I handed it on), touching down at Don Mueang airport in Bangkok after spending a bit of time in what was just then Myanmar, or almost. 2006. The book, as books can so often be when circumstances offer, gave me other flickers, other windows, fenestrations of the place I'd be visiting.
On the streets of Yangon there are lots of warung style bookshops. Books laid on tarps, on tables with plastic at the fore under the threatening monsoonal clouds. There are lots of pirated books, I'm sure in Burmese too, but the English ones I can read - slightly wonky binding, shiny and thin paper, or really thick paper, off-coloured covers. Pretty sure this one is not a pirate.
Reminds me of this wonderful essay by Daniel Alarcon, visiting Peru and stalking the markets to find his latest, pirated... only to find... https://granta.com/life-among-the-pirates/
First published 1934
Harvest Books, US edtion, strangely does not cite year, maybe it is pirated, the paper is thick.