Glen Beck’s A Christmas Sweater adjacent to Samuel Beckett’s Malone Dies.
Multiple books by Nicholas Sparks, no books by Muriel Spark.
Reading bad books is like smoking bad cigarettes. Smoke or read what’s good, or don’t smoke or read at all.
Few people browsing Literature, many browsing Mysteries. Hard boiled sleuths, funny sleuths, brainy sleuths. Crippled sleuths, sleuths of all races, sleuths of all sexual persuasions, sleuths from every corner of the globe. Sleuths from the past, sleuths from the future, seemingly every possible permutation of sleuth…no competitive eating sleuths, make a note of it.
Disturbing chap going through the True Crime titles like it’s the How-To section. Avoid eye contact.
Wide selection of self-help books, yet no Controlling Your Inner Serial Killer book despite obvious need.
No reason to linger in the American History section. Lots of books about Lincoln, none about Polk. No anti-American Revolution books.
No Spooky Tooth in the music section.
Magazines, most about celebrities. Read the New Yorker, just the cartoons, then put it back. A vast selection of magazines about rappers to read while listening to rappers rapping. Read a magazine about bowling.
In the discount section get a coffee table book about sweaters for only $9.99. A surprising number of professional wrestlers have written books, and you can get them for only $9.99.
Sparse crowd in the café. All stare, and seem, somehow, poised to strike.