A woman hands a book to the librarian. Only it’s not one of the library’s books:
She pulls out of her bag a beaten-up copy of Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho.
Lady: “You are a young girl. You are not an old fogey. Therefore I am not intimidated to tell you what the book is about.”
She leans over and whispers, “It’s … all … pornography.”
Lady: “Do you know why men visit prostitutes?”
[Librarian]: “I don’t…I’m not really…”
Lady: “It’s not about sex. You’d be surprised.”
The librarian duly tweets about the experience.
Which tweet is promptly retweeted — by Paulo Coehlo.
Tipping her hat to this review — okay, I don’t know if she actually ever wears a hat, but work with me here — she announces that she’s going to read the book, once the library’s own copy is returned from loan.
Which got me thinking: do we, here in the Big Sanitary, have this book in our library? Yes, we do: two copies, one at the branch nearest to me, neither of them checked out at the moment.
Maybe I need to read this book, just to keep the momentum going. And no, it’s not pornography.