Bookstore Rants, or Lady, You Crazy!

I've been sitting on this blogpost for a few days, wanting to calm down a bit before sitting down to skewer a particular parent I interacted with at the store earlier this week.  Our store is in a pretty smartsy-artsy-fartsy (you like that term?  I just made it up) area, where the population density of people who hold PhDs is higher than average.  Probably much higher than average but I'm not about to spend time researching figures or anything like that.  But anyway, because of where our store is located we're pretty used to parents who come in to buy books for their little darlings who learned to read in utero and are basically culturally sophisticated geniuses who excel in sports, languages, sciences and arts, all in equal measure, and do we have any books that might be good enough for them?

I'm sure you know the kind of parents I mean.  Sure, these parents are tiresome and apparently blind to the fact that their children are frequently nasty little shits in desperate need of a good spanking meaningful time out.  But these parents are completely grounded in reality compared with a mother I was dealing with the other day.

Mommy Dearest: (to me) I'm buying the last book in the Eragon series for my high school daughter because she just loves it, but I need suggestions for my other brilliant daughter. She's nine but she reads on a high school level, so I need a book that will challenge her but also be age appropriate.  (to daughter): Why don't you start looking at the books?

Lowly Bookseller: I understand completely.  Let's take a look over h...

MD (interrupting me): We don't have a television, you understand.  My children have all been readers from a very early age, which is why I've got one daughter at [insert Seven Sisters college here] and another applying to [insert Ivy League college here].  My youngest, though.  She just gets it in her head sometimes that she wants to read something but I won't have her filling her head with crap.  Not like what my students read.  She's better than that.

LB: Uh-huh.  Why don't we look at these books right he...

MD (interrupting again): And don't even get me started on graphic novels.  They're such trash--I can't believe she keeps trying to read those Wimpy Kid books at school. I'd like to give a piece of my mind to the creators of these so-called graphic novels...

LB (hah--interrupting her!): Well, actually, there are lots of great graphic novels, and one that sells well to both children and adults is this retelling of Homer's The Odyssey.  Since your daughter enjoyed the Percy Jackson books, she might enjoy learning more about the classics.

MD (looking down her nose): I don't think so.

LB (to the daughter directly): Sweetie, what others books have you liked besides the Percy Jackson ones?

Downtrodden daughter:  Harry Potter, Emily Windsnap, books about animals, books with f...

MD (interrupting AGAIN): She definitely didn't like those Series of Unfortunate Events books

DD: I thought they were pretty good

MD (to DD): No you definitely didn't like them. And they're too young for you anyway.  (To me):  What else do you recommend?

LB: Well, if you like fantasy stories with strong girl characters, I'd suggest maybe Madeleine L'Engle for a classic or maybe The Emerald Atlas, which is more fantasy-adventure and more modern.  For animal lovers, A Ring of Endless Light is a magical read with all of the dolphins in it, but A Wrinkle in Time is also great--it was a Newbery award winner that pairs well with a recent winner, When You Reach Me.  They both feature smart girls dealing with confusing times in their lives, plus they learn about time travel.

DD: The one with the dolphins sounds pretty good...

MD (to daughter): No, you won't like that one, I don't think.  Too old-fashioned.

DD (to mom): But I like dolphins.

MD (to daughter): No, I said you wouldn't like it.  Keep looking for something else. (To me): What about that Atlas book?  What's it about?

LB: It's a wonderful fantasy adventure about three siblings who are orphaned but come to discover some amazing things in their new ho...

MD (she's the interruptingest!): Orphans?  No, that sounds too much like those other books, those Unfortunate ones.

LB (losing patience): Actually, they're nothing at all alike.  Yes, they are both about siblings who are orphaned, but beyond that they're much more fantastical, with homages to C. S. Lewis, Tolkien, Susan Cooper, and even Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

MD: You mean they're derivative?  I don't want her to read anything derivative.

LB (frustration showing through the cracks): No, actually, I don't mean derivative.  I mean that it uses similar tropes from classical fantasy series in a way that pays homage, but still creates a wonderful story for a young reader to get lost in.  If you don't want books that are derivative and poorly written, you should reconsider that Paolini book for your older daughter.

MD (slightly taken aback): Well.  I didn't mean to offend you.  I just have high expectations for my daughter.  (to daughter): Did you find anything?

DD: This one looks good.  I read the part on the inside cover and then I started reading the first chapter and I really like it.

MD (to daughter): Were there at least six words you didn't know in the chapter?

LB (to mother): Well, if she's reading on a high school level, there's a good chance that she'll know all of the words in this book.  But it's from a very reputable and literary publisher of children's bo...

MD (interrupting again): No, I don't think she'll like this.  She only thinks she will because she's read a little of it so far, but I know her better.

LB (to myself): WTF, lady?  How can you possibly stand there with a straight face, full of righteous indignation, and talk over your child and tell her that you know better, just by looking at the cover of a book, about what she likes to read? You're a monster and a nightmare and I can say these things in a blogpost later, which will make me feel better, secure in the fact that, like Miss Elizabeth Lefoldt in The Help, you'll never recognize yourself.

LB (dejectedly): How about The Mysterious Benedict Society?  Do you think you she would like that?

The lady kept apologizing for her daughter's "talking back" and bad behavior.  I wanted to hold a mirror up to her instead.  She was clearly insane.  And what's more, because it wasn't a school day, there were a handful of children in our kids' area, sprawled out on bean bags and reading graphic novels (mostly Wimpy Kid books, but some of the Origami Yoda/Darth Paper ones, too) while she was talking about how trashy and beneath her daughter they were.

So, gentle readers, have you ever encountered such an overbearing parent, in either a personal or professional capacity?  I've read about them, of course, but dealing with one in person AND still providing good customer service was a difficult row for me to hoe.  

Which came first--the ABCs or Shakespeare?

(not my image--found online)

Yesterday was one of those nightmare retail days when the bizarro customers crawled out of the woodwork.  I'm not sure if Jupiter was misaligned with Mars, or if folks were just anticipating the next full moon, or if something was in the water, but every single one of us working at the counter had a customer tale to tell.  Here's mine:

Woman (while walking downstairs to the fiction & children's department): Hello?!  Is anybody there who can help me?  Hello?

Me (from behind the counter. You know, where I'm supposed to be): Yes, I'm right here.  What can I do for you?

Woman (looking around): Oh, there you are.  I'm in a rush.  Where is your Shakespeare section?

Me (walking around the counter to show her the exact shelf): It's right over here, arranged alphabetically by title.  Which one are you looking for?

Woman: Oh, it looks like he wrote a lot.  I don't know -- what do you recommend? 

Me: Well, are you thinking a comedy, tragedy, or one of the histories?  Or maybe you're looking for his sonnets?

Woman:  Oh, I think a history.  Do you have Hamlet?

Me: Well...yes, many people would say that if you're only going to read one Shakespeare play, Hamlet would be the one.  But it's not technically a history--it's a tragedy.

Woman: I thought it was history.

Me: Well, it certainly took place a very long time ago, so in that case I suppose you could call it historical, but it's definitely a Shakespearean tragedy.  Not based on actual history like his historical plays. 

Woman: Oh.  Well, I definitely want history.  What do you recommend?

Me: Well, I personally like Henry V, but it's the last book in a tetralogy, so maybe you'd like to begin with the first one, which is Richard II, which continues with Henry IV, Part 1 and Henry IV, Part 2.

Woman: Ummm, I'll take Henry.

Me: Okay, which one?  Do you want to start with the first one, just take the last one, or do you want all three?

Woman: What about the middle one?

Me: Well, I personally wouldn't recommend starting with Henry IV, Part 2 because it would put you in the middle of things, but yes, you could do that. 

Woman (kneeling on floor in front of shelf): I'll take all of them.  Where are they?

Me (standing a little behind and to the side of her, peering over her shoulder): They're arranged alphabetically by title on that shelf.

Woman:  I don't see them.  Where are they?

Me: They're right there, under H.

Woman: Where's the H?

Me (tempted desperately to say, "It's usually after the G but before the I"):  Ummm...move your hand to the left a little.

Woman (pulling a book off the shelf): Is this it?

Me: Actually, that's Hamlet. Here, let me get down there and grab them for you. [I kneel down, grab three and stand up again, handing them to her.]

Woman: Are you sure these are the right ones? They all seem to look alike.

Me: Well, yes, they're all published by Pelican, so this edition will have a pretty uniform look to it.  But see, here on the front cover you can see the titles, and then if you turn the book sideways, you can see the titles on the spines, too.  [Glancing around to see if anybody else is witnessing this insanity. Hoping that maybe she's buying these as a gift for somebody else...] Would you like me to giftwrap these?

Woman: No, they're for me.  I'll just take them upstairs to buy, okay? 

Me (to my coworker, after the coast is clear): WOW.  Just wow.

Coworker (holding back laughter): Well, when I walked in, you did say it was shaping up to be one of those days!

Okey-dokey.  So, maybe this is a totally radical notion, but it seems to me that anybody who buys Shakespeare for herself should already have a working knowledge of, oh, the alphabet.  I'm just sayin'. 

Methinks she was an artless, idle-headed strumpet!

Things that make you go hmmmmm...