Adam missed the bus. Again. For the fifth time.
The next bus wouldn't come for another hour. Adam let out a heavy sigh, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and sat down on the bus stop bench. It was cold and the wind was biting.
As his eyes gazed across the street, the tungsten lights in a small second hand bookshop looked inviting.
"Bet it's nice and cosy in there", he thought to himself. He decided to wait out his time in the bookshop. The shop was narrow, but deep, and there were books stacked from the floor to the ceiling.
Not that he was a big reader, but it seemed as if they had a good collection of DC Comics and graphic novels, so he was sure that he could easily waste an hour in the shop. A well worn sofa snuggly fitted in between two large book cases offered a quiet hide-away for Adam to browse a pile of magazines that he had grabbed from the Comics section of the bookstore. Usually he would use his tablet when he wanted to read something, but since he was in a bookstore, he thought it more inconspicuous if he
read something that actually belonged to the shop. He was fully engrossed in reading "The Swamp Thing" when somebody gently asked: "Excuse me, but can I be of assistance?"
Startled, Adam jumped up from the sofa. "Uh, sorry, is it okay if I sit here and read? I just missed the bus and it's real cold out there," Adam offered. In front of him stood a girl, probably not much older than himself, dressed in black from top to toe. She had some funny looking pigtails all over her head, a really short skirt, and the most infectious smile he had ever seen. "Ofcourse it's okay, that's why we put the sofa there, silly," the girl answered. "So, you're into DC Comics then?" the girl continued. Adam ummed and arred but finally managed to come out with an answer: "Yeah, I am, I usually use my tablet, but I thought since I am in a bookstore, why not check out the real thing?"
The girl smiled. "Good idea," she said then continued: "I love the smell of paper, the feel of the paper, and somehow I feel more involved, closer, to what I am reading when I am actually holding the book, or magazine in my hand, don't you?" Adam had never thought of it that way, for him words and images on paper or on a screen were much the same, but before he could answer, the girl had walked away. Adam sat down on the sofa again, but he couldn't stop thinking about what the girl had said.
His eyes started to wander up and down the bookcases, looking at the many coloured spines of different sizes. His eyes stopped at a bright orange and white book with Siddartha written on the spine. "Siddartha? What on earth did that mean?" he wondered. He decided to investigate.
Adam pulled the book off the shelf. It had a very minimalistic cover, just the title, the author's name, Herman Hesse, and a cartoon-like penguin. Remembering what the girl had said to him about the feel and smell of paper, he opened the book, ran his fingertips across the pages and stuck his nose
into the middle of it. "She was right," he thought, "it does have a nice smell". While holding up the book and smelling it, suddenly a piece of paper fell to the floor. Adam picked it up.
Folded twice and marked with what seemed like coffee stains, the piece of paper was yellow and frayed at the edges. Adam concluded that it must be old. Intrigued, he decided to read it.
"Dear Vinny, thank you for sending me the Remington typewriter. Words can not express how thankful I am for this marvellous machine. The pain in my fingers has made it almost impossible for me to use a pen these days, and as you know, I love writing. How great it is to be able to formulate words and then see them appearing ever so legible! The last few years my hand writing has become so appalling that even I can't read it, so this machine has become a godsend.
Thanks to you, I am now able to finish writing my book, which I know will make my publisher very happy. Hope you enjoy Siddartha, I certainly did. All my love to the family, Jeremy."
Adam felt like he had stepped back in time. He tried to imagine what it would be like to handwrite everything, to not have spellchecker and instant access to a Thesaurus at the click of a mouse.
Gently he folded the paper and put it back into the book. Still holding the book in his hand, the girl suddenly appeared again. "Siddartha? I thought you were into DC Comics?" the girl asked.
"Did you know that there's a letter in this book, like, an old letter?" Adam asked the girl.
"Yeah, it's been there as long as I can remember. Awesome, isn't it? If people want to buy the book, we sell the book, keep the letter, replace the book and put the letter into another one. Lot's of people have read the letter, and bought the book," answered the girl.
"Have you read the book and the letter?" Adam asked.
"Oh, yes, I have, it was after I read the letter that I started to smell books and feel the paper," the girl answered and smiled. "Why?" Adam asked. "I don't know exactly, but, I think I realised how much closer I felt to print on paper than words on an interface. I mean, it's not just about reading words, how can I put it, somehow reading words in an actual book, makes me feel closer, more involved with what I am reading. I guess, perhaps its like listening or viewing a music concert on the Telly, verses being at the live event? A book feels like you're inviting the author into your space, like it's tangible in a different way to reading something on a screen... Anyway, one does not necessarily have to exclude the other, I like both, but books smell nicer," the girl answered while straightening out some books on a shelf next to the sofa.
"What are you going to do, are you going to buy Siddartha?" asked the girl.
Adam put his hand in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, opened it, and found a ten dollar bill.
"How much is it?" he asked and handed the girl the book.
"Seven dollars, but you don't get the letter, okay?" the girl winked at Adam.
Speaking about money made Adam remember the bus and that he needed four dollars for the ride home. "Sorry, but I only have six dollars to spend, can you make it six?" Adam asked. "You drive a hard bargain, but okay then, six dollars it is," said the girl and with book in hand walked up to the cash register.
Adam handed the money to the girl, glanced quickly at his watch, and realised that if he didn't hurry, he was going to miss the bus. Again. With the book in his hand, he ran to the bus stop.
He just made it, found himself a seat and sat down. As the bus pulled out, he put down his backpack on the floor and opened the book, closed his eyes, and inhaled the smell of the paper.
"She's right, there's something special about the smell of paper," he thought to himself, then turned to page one.
(Citizen Z)
(the painting in this story is called: The death of a Remington)
No comments:
Post a Comment