Tales of a Book Thief
This isn't a theiving story. THis is really a very odd story. Called the time I owed the library $78 and paid it off because it was worth it.
It wasn't because I lost the book. It was because, i had a very odd sort of row.
Diana Wynne Jones' book Deep Secret only had one copy in the library. Just one, sitting in the Fiction section on the second floor. It was a hard cover with a fascinating picture on the duster. I read the whole thing all the way through and found it very muddling but muddling in a sensible way.
"Dad!" I said. "Dad, have you read this book?"
And Dad being my Dad and thus, ravingly mad, put his hand ont he cover and said seriously, "I read it now."
"You didn't!"
"I did. I also read your diary." And I screamed like an angry kitten and flailed in the direction of my room. Oh, eight year old self. There was so much shrieking and flailing. A bit like watching baby otters being forced to swim or baby jaguars being forced not to be lazy.
So I ran back to my read and read the book through a few more times and when I got to the part about lifts being broken I said, Oh god. This is like a metaphor for my future. These are all the people who I will have to put up with. Bastards, isolationists, people who can't function without coffee, marvelous people, junkies, farmers, this is like a litmus test of everyone I will ever run into.
At the time, I was rather put out, as I also realized that being so similar to the main character meant I'd never grow out of being a prat.
I reread it to try and get used to these archetypes and the ways to deal with them. Then I read it again to make sure I was reading it right. Then a few more times before I make a firm decision. I would buy this book.
"Excuse me, librarian, can I buy this book?"
"No, sorry. The library has to keep it's books so other people can read them. Everyone deserves to read books."
I supposed she had a point. "What if I bought a brand new copy, hardcover, and traded it for this old hardcover. Could I do that?"
"Now that's just ridiculous. No. Keep the new copy for yourself. Would you please let me check that in."
I was very put out. My offer seemed so sensible! It made sense. As much as I loved the story, I didn't want a different book. I grew up on THIS ONE. WHat if I bought a new edition and it didn't have a blurred type face on page 84, 87, ands 123? There's no way the book would have the coffee stains another readedr had left, highlighting the lift scene in faint brown? :(
"NO!" and I ran out of the library as far as my little legs could follow until caving half a year later and returning the book. It took several years of grass cutting to get rifd of the fine. Also, I felt very vindicated because the library threw out the edition a few months after I checked it.
It wasn't because I lost the book. It was because, i had a very odd sort of row.
Diana Wynne Jones' book Deep Secret only had one copy in the library. Just one, sitting in the Fiction section on the second floor. It was a hard cover with a fascinating picture on the duster. I read the whole thing all the way through and found it very muddling but muddling in a sensible way.
"Dad!" I said. "Dad, have you read this book?"
And Dad being my Dad and thus, ravingly mad, put his hand ont he cover and said seriously, "I read it now."
"You didn't!"
"I did. I also read your diary." And I screamed like an angry kitten and flailed in the direction of my room. Oh, eight year old self. There was so much shrieking and flailing. A bit like watching baby otters being forced to swim or baby jaguars being forced not to be lazy.
So I ran back to my read and read the book through a few more times and when I got to the part about lifts being broken I said, Oh god. This is like a metaphor for my future. These are all the people who I will have to put up with. Bastards, isolationists, people who can't function without coffee, marvelous people, junkies, farmers, this is like a litmus test of everyone I will ever run into.
At the time, I was rather put out, as I also realized that being so similar to the main character meant I'd never grow out of being a prat.
I reread it to try and get used to these archetypes and the ways to deal with them. Then I read it again to make sure I was reading it right. Then a few more times before I make a firm decision. I would buy this book.
"Excuse me, librarian, can I buy this book?"
"No, sorry. The library has to keep it's books so other people can read them. Everyone deserves to read books."
I supposed she had a point. "What if I bought a brand new copy, hardcover, and traded it for this old hardcover. Could I do that?"
"Now that's just ridiculous. No. Keep the new copy for yourself. Would you please let me check that in."
I was very put out. My offer seemed so sensible! It made sense. As much as I loved the story, I didn't want a different book. I grew up on THIS ONE. WHat if I bought a new edition and it didn't have a blurred type face on page 84, 87, ands 123? There's no way the book would have the coffee stains another readedr had left, highlighting the lift scene in faint brown? :(
"NO!" and I ran out of the library as far as my little legs could follow until caving half a year later and returning the book. It took several years of grass cutting to get rifd of the fine. Also, I felt very vindicated because the library threw out the edition a few months after I checked it.