Monday, April 27, 1998
Getting drunk, being disruptive highlight of day for book
vendor
COLUMN: Best part of job is free alcohol, intelligent discourse
with authors
I work at a bookstore in Brentwood every Tuesday, and authors
sometimes come in for readings and signings. This usually involves
dozens of the author’s family and friends, a table with wine and
snacks, and an hour or so of mingling. When I’m lucky, someone
offers me a glass of wine.
This glass then turns into two glasses, which turns into four
glasses, and by the end of my work day I wind up slumped against a
bookshelf holding an empty bottle, yelling things at the
customers.
"I’ll ring you up right here, baby!" or, "Let me recommend a
great new hardcover!" When I’m really messed up, I grab my crotch
when I say these things. It’s a wonder I’m still employed.
When I worked last Tuesday, a science-fiction author from
Brooklyn came in to sign and read from his new book, "The Slaughter
of Goombatz." The cover of his book had a picture of a furry
humanoid with a shotgun, and there was a spaceship flying in the
background. Book covers like that always ruin it for me – why even
read the thing when you know what’s going to happen?
Around 7 o’clock in the evening, with close to 50 people packed
into the bookstore, the author began reading from his novel. He
read a selection from Chapter 4, in which Goombatz gets captured by
his nemesis, a hulking rodent named Ruk-Ruk.
"Goombatz ran with all his might, breathing hard, hoping he
could make it to the air vent before Ruk-Ruk got to him," the
author read in a tough Brooklyn accent straight out of a Scorsese
movie. "Then he felt it – a hot, piercing sensation between his
shoulders. He knew what it was. Only the powerful tranquilizer gun
of Ruk-Ruk could cause this feeling in him."
You’d be amazed how many full-grown, well-dressed people get off
on this sort of fiction. The Brooklyn accent definitely gave this
author an edge, but I got the feeling that no matter who was
reading out loud, everyone in the room would have been equally
transfixed.
After the reading, people clapped, and the author fielded
questions. I was on my sixth glass of wine, so I raised my hand
first.
"Yes?" The author motioned to me.
"Yo, wussup? That was dope. Ruk-Ruk’s a bad-ass," I said.
"Thank you. Do you have a question?"
"Naw, bro, I’m cool." I squinted, smiled and held a fist in the
air. "Ruk-Ruk!"
The author nodded awkwardly and quickly turned his attention to
an old woman who asked a question about feminism in the novel. I
took this as an opportunity to pour myself another glass of wine.
Remember, I was getting paid for this. I grabbed a handful of wheat
crackers and stuffed them in my mouth.
"Sure, I’ve heard that interpretation before," the author was
saying in response to the old woman’s question. "I’ve also heard
people who find a lot of homoerotic elements in my work."
"Who said that?" the woman asked.
Before the author had a chance to respond, I held my wine glass
over my head and shouted,
"Your mother!"
"Uh … actually, the homoeroticism stems from – "
"Your mother!" I shouted again. The author started to get
angry.
"Hey, do you mind? I’m trying to answer questions."
People looked at me with stern faces. I felt like a little kid
who’d just been caught throwing water balloons at cars. Not that I
know how that feels. Water balloons? Me?
"Sorry," I said.
The book man from Brooklyn stared at me hard for another second,
then returned his attention to homoeroticism.
"It stems from a review in Newsweek. The critic felt that
Ruk-Ruk represented the dominant man, and Goombatz represented –
"
"Your mother!" I couldn’t stop.
A few of my co-workers dragged me to the back office, made me
sit down and massaged my shoulders. Sure, I felt stupid, disruptive
and inconsiderate, but when I thought my situation through I
decided that I was pretty lucky. I got to drink myself silly,
maintain a heated debate with a prominent East Coast author and
have my shoulders massaged, all while getting paid a bit above
minimum wage. And this sort of thing takes place almost every
Tuesday for me.
I could easily give up my job at the bookstore and earn a buck
or two more waiting tables or grooming dogs, but then what would I
do for kicks?
The world of books is a beautiful place to work.
Engel is a fourth-year English student.
Jeremy Engel