The - I've Read That - Book Store

I got so excited about this I figured I'd tell the world about it. So here is what a day in my brand new business idea:

A young customer comes in. Perhaps he has a half hour to kill, or the prospect of many more free hours brought him to the book store. At any case, this is not the kind of book store that you would choose to go to with a particular best selling book in mind. There are stores for that already, and the I've Read That bookstore is one of a kind. The store front is relatively plain: white bricks and two windows suffocate the small door. In one of the windows a small piece of cardboard is turned to reveal "open", painted with a steady hand in red. Over the doorway in obnoxiously large red letters reads "I've Read That Book Store".

Once inside the building the young customer takes a quick survey of the surroundings. Books shelves built into the wall surround the store, and each section has two or three of it's own. In the middle of the first section is an over sized chair. A stack of new books surrounds the chair in a haphazard arrangement. A selection of loose leaf tea, a few snack items and a large 3-ring binder filled with loose leaf papers, complete with scribbles, sits on a small table next to the chair. Inside the chair a man who glows with scholarship sits. There are 8 such sections in the store. In the middle of the store is a circular fireplace. On one side is a wood pile. Across is a manly assortment of fire-tending tools, and on either side coffee makers and an assortment of glasses. The fireplace is no doubt the focus point of the store, and it is around here that a half dozen men stand, talking about who knows what.

The young boy, a bit frightened by the apparent depth of the fireplace conversation walks over to the first section (one of the many whose chair is not occupied) and begins to search through the books. One can tell that the books were once alphabetized, but under the strain of masculinity have fallen out of what was inevitably feminine perfection. On the shelves he sees all sorts of books that he knows he ought to read. He pulls out "Paradise Lost" when an animated man with a slightly rectangular face pops up. "I've read that!". The boy is startled, as most men would be, but that is to little effect. The scholar is the sort of man who doesn't care about such trivial things. He continues in the same relentless manner he began. "Milton said it was his attempt to 'justify the ways of God to man'. It's sure somethin'." The boy hadn't said anything yet, and this man was the sort of man who could talk uninturupted for hours. Seeing no reason to stop he continued on, "he writes it in the style of the great Greek epics (the illiteration causes profound excitment in the man's voice), except it's all Christian stuff."

The boy, having regained use of his vocal chords mutters, "yeah... I've heard about it." "Well let me tell you, it's a great read. You might not want that edition though. This one here has a great set of footnotes in it, but the font is a bit small." The two exchange books and an odd silence ensues. "Make sure to come back and tell me what you think" the scholar practically shouts as he hammers the young man's back. The boy goes to the cash registar, but the cashier is a passive participant in the fireside conversation. One of the scholars tells the cashier he's got to get to work and laughter ensues. A characteristic cackle is heard over it all as the cashier runs over to the register, a feat which would have been extrordinary for any of the schollars, who are all a head of hair older than the cashier. Eventually, perplexed by it all, the young man leaves.

Yet the cozyness of it all intrigues him, and after finishing Milton's epic he goes back in. The store is the same save exactly 8 obnoxious hanging signs with names on it. Today all of the scholars are sitting in their chairs reading. They shout out lines every now and then. A "Bill" looks around the corner of his book shelf and says to "Arthur" - you ever read Aquinas' bit on temperance? "Yeah... I got a doctorate in the stuff". "He surprises me every time!". A "Kevin" shouts across the aisle to "Adam" - "Era algo menor que yo, y no sabia de ella desde hacia tantos anos que bien podia haber muerto. Pero al primer timbrazo reconoci la voz en el telefono, y le dispare sin preambuls: - Hoy si... What eloquence!" "Indeed" is the laconic man's reply.

The young boy wanders around and finds Todd, the man who had handed him what really did prove to be a superior edition of Paradise Lost. The scholar is engrossed in his book. The schollar looks up and shouts "Hey Tony, can we get some music with a beat on here". The boy hadn't noticed that music was playing. For a moment he appreciated it, but a profoundly British voice covered it up: "That's Mahler's 2nd Symphony! (He begins to translate the text) 'Man lies in deepest need! /Man lies in deepest pain!Oh how I would rather be in heaven.'" Another Kevin, this one learned in German instead of Spanish, continues "Da kam ich auf einen breiten Weg: /Da kam ein Engelein und wollt’ mich abweisen. /Ach nein! Ich ließ mich nicht abweisen!" It is firmly cemented in the boys mind that these men, with their sweatervests and glasses of tea are, at the heart of it all, really old children.

As this was happening the man labeled Todd immediatly recognized the frightened boy. The two discuss the book in some detail, and (nobody really cared about the music anyways) the other scholars join the conversation in the same way. "Is that Paradise Lost?", "Yep", "I've read that!".