there is Warren.” The giant arched an eyebrow in acknowledgment. “You here for a job, Thomas?”
“How’d you know?”
“You’ve got the glazed, nervous aura of the hoping-to-be-hired about you,” he said. “I also know that we’re looking for people at the moment.” Aubrey pointed down one of the endless aisles. “You want Page’s office, the end of Aisle 9, right next to Food, Vegetarian.”
“Thanks.” I walked toward the mouth of the aisle.
“Oh, and Thomas?” Aubrey called after me. I turned around.
“You remember Great Cthulhu?” I nodded. “Well, Page isn’t thatbad, all things considered, but it’s a close thing.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Just watch out for the shoggoths, and you’ll do fine. Oh, and don’t make eye contact, she might think you’re flirting.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Very bad.” Aubrey said. Behind him, Warren shuddered.
Click, click.
“So, why would you like to work for READ ?” She pronounced it
red
, which I supposed ended the argument. Her pen clicked in her fingers. Open and closed. In and out.
Click, click.
“Well,” I began, bracing myself for the onslaught.
Click, click.
“I’ve always been a big reader. I mean, huge. Ten, eleven books a month, easy.”
“Really.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. Idly, remembering Aubrey’s flirtation warning, I imagined myself having sex with Page and immediately regretted it, the image of my penis flattened in a laundry mangle imprinting itself onto my soul. I covered up my wince with a cough. Page Adler is not the sort of woman men dream about. There is something unsettlingly severe and Dickensian about her pinched features; Miss Havisham without the whimsy. You could say she just missed being pretty, but that would be a level of benevolence on par with Gandhi. There is a disquieting incompleteness to her features. Perhaps it was due to her hair, done back in a severe bun and stretching her skin so tightly the plates of her skull were rearranging themselves to accommodate the stress, her facial pores now tiny mouths yelping for mercy. The parts all worked separately (two eyes, one nose, various other cavities and fissures), but taken as a whole, she looked like a child’s jigsaw puzzle. Several puzzles, thrown into a box, then randomly put back together by children with severe visual impairments.
Click, click.
“Ten or eleven books. Impressive.”
Click, click.
“Nowhere near what Aubrey reads, but impressive.”
Click, click.
I found myself entranced by her hair, amazed that she couldeven blink with it so tightly wrapped behind her head. My eyes began twitching involuntarily, expecting the snap of the hair band at any moment.
“Why do you think that might be an asset here at READ ?” She pronounced it
reed
this time, a tiny smile twitching at the edges of her mouth as I soundlessly processed the discrepancy. Would I have the gonads to mention it?
Click, click.
She enjoyed the confusion this caused.
“Well, in all honesty, I’ve been in a lot of bookstores where the employees couldn’t tell you one word about a book. Any book. In fact, I came to this very store some time ago, and the employee helping me was unable to find me a copy of
Interpreter of Maladies
by Jhumpa Lahiri. He had never even heard of it! I mean, it only won the Pulitzer a few years ago!”
Nothing.
Click, click.
Keep going.
“Not only do I read voraciously,”
Good word!
“but I also study book reviews in major newspapers, and try to keep abreast of new publications.”
Click, click.
“In this way, I hope that my knowledge of books will not only help a person find the book they’re looking for, but perhaps help them discover something new.”
Page arched her eyebrow; she only had the one, an elongated tract of hair in desperate need of harvest. Raising one side in what I supposed was meant as a look of wry scepticism resulted in the effect of a bushy brown caterpillar raising its head for a
“How’d you know?”
“You’ve got the glazed, nervous aura of the hoping-to-be-hired about you,” he said. “I also know that we’re looking for people at the moment.” Aubrey pointed down one of the endless aisles. “You want Page’s office, the end of Aisle 9, right next to Food, Vegetarian.”
“Thanks.” I walked toward the mouth of the aisle.
“Oh, and Thomas?” Aubrey called after me. I turned around.
“You remember Great Cthulhu?” I nodded. “Well, Page isn’t thatbad, all things considered, but it’s a close thing.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Just watch out for the shoggoths, and you’ll do fine. Oh, and don’t make eye contact, she might think you’re flirting.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Very bad.” Aubrey said. Behind him, Warren shuddered.
Click, click.
“So, why would you like to work for READ ?” She pronounced it
red
, which I supposed ended the argument. Her pen clicked in her fingers. Open and closed. In and out.
Click, click.
“Well,” I began, bracing myself for the onslaught.
Click, click.
“I’ve always been a big reader. I mean, huge. Ten, eleven books a month, easy.”
“Really.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. Idly, remembering Aubrey’s flirtation warning, I imagined myself having sex with Page and immediately regretted it, the image of my penis flattened in a laundry mangle imprinting itself onto my soul. I covered up my wince with a cough. Page Adler is not the sort of woman men dream about. There is something unsettlingly severe and Dickensian about her pinched features; Miss Havisham without the whimsy. You could say she just missed being pretty, but that would be a level of benevolence on par with Gandhi. There is a disquieting incompleteness to her features. Perhaps it was due to her hair, done back in a severe bun and stretching her skin so tightly the plates of her skull were rearranging themselves to accommodate the stress, her facial pores now tiny mouths yelping for mercy. The parts all worked separately (two eyes, one nose, various other cavities and fissures), but taken as a whole, she looked like a child’s jigsaw puzzle. Several puzzles, thrown into a box, then randomly put back together by children with severe visual impairments.
Click, click.
“Ten or eleven books. Impressive.”
Click, click.
“Nowhere near what Aubrey reads, but impressive.”
Click, click.
I found myself entranced by her hair, amazed that she couldeven blink with it so tightly wrapped behind her head. My eyes began twitching involuntarily, expecting the snap of the hair band at any moment.
“Why do you think that might be an asset here at READ ?” She pronounced it
reed
this time, a tiny smile twitching at the edges of her mouth as I soundlessly processed the discrepancy. Would I have the gonads to mention it?
Click, click.
She enjoyed the confusion this caused.
“Well, in all honesty, I’ve been in a lot of bookstores where the employees couldn’t tell you one word about a book. Any book. In fact, I came to this very store some time ago, and the employee helping me was unable to find me a copy of
Interpreter of Maladies
by Jhumpa Lahiri. He had never even heard of it! I mean, it only won the Pulitzer a few years ago!”
Nothing.
Click, click.
Keep going.
“Not only do I read voraciously,”
Good word!
“but I also study book reviews in major newspapers, and try to keep abreast of new publications.”
Click, click.
“In this way, I hope that my knowledge of books will not only help a person find the book they’re looking for, but perhaps help them discover something new.”
Page arched her eyebrow; she only had the one, an elongated tract of hair in desperate need of harvest. Raising one side in what I supposed was meant as a look of wry scepticism resulted in the effect of a bushy brown caterpillar raising its head for a
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