Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Other people at bookshops

I hate other people at book shops. They don't do anything wrong, they just exist inconveniently. Yesterday I went to Waterstones primarily to ask about jobs, but ended up browsing for some nice arrogant books. Every time I started scanning along the shelves, some pleb would come drifting towards me, also scanning the shelves. There would be a moment of distress as they came ever closer, in which I would decide whether to give way or fight to the death with the pleb. Normally I would just change direction and pretend to stare meaningfully at some books I had already seen, for the purpose of avoiding the pleb. While I regarded these books I would want them to die. They were occupying my shelf.
Sometimes they come in groups. This is worse. They generally disperse, reconvening every so often in order to block off a section of the store and communicate loudly with each other.
There was this one particular pleb that would not move from the graphic novels section. Obviously I have no interest in the graphic novels section, but it was about 2 metres away from the classic literature section (I generally like to have a 3 metre radius separating me from the others). Every time I did a circuit of the store to check if the pleb had moved, he was still there.
Looking back, I'm quite grateful to that stubborn pleb and his uncommonly fervent interest in graphic novels. He was an excellent deterrent from the small selection of shit that makes up the classic literature section. Although I feel like a literary god when I read a 'critically acclaimed cult classic', it's a challenge to get through one without committing suicide. I end up becoming absorbed by the front/back cover, purely because they provide some respite from the badly written deluge of things that aren't interesting. Anything over 100 years old is unreadable, and Jane Austen is particularly bad.

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