It's not a textbook, it's a book book.

"I need a book for a class."
"Check downstairs in textbooks."
"Yeaaaaah.. but it's not a textbook. It's like, for English?"
"Any book for a class will be downstairs in textbooks, cheaper, with no tax."
"Uh, what? It's not a TEXTBOOK. It's a book book."
"YES. CHECK. DOWN. STAIRS."
"Uhh.. So.. how do I get downstairs? Um. Okay, whatever, you don't know what I'm talking about. God, I just needed a book."


Shoot me in the face. Can someone PLEASE tell me what a "book book" is? Honestly. You would think that college level students would be able to intelligently, if not somewhat adequately, express their own thoughts and desires. Moreover, sorry for trying to help you by answering your question. Afterall, I only work here. God forbid I know what I'm talking about regarding the placement of books in this store. Clearly, you know more about my own job than I do. Which is why you exit the store, looking for the imaginary staircase outside when I tell you that books are downstairs. That would also explain why you give me a much appreciated exasperated, condescending sigh before leaving, when I tell you that books in that section are cheaper. I particularly love it when you don't believe me when I tell you your book is located in textbooks. Even when I look it up, and shove it in your face, the text right on my computer screen. You're like, so totally right, evidently I should be fired for my incompetence.

Recently, a woman ambled along into the store. "I'm looking for a book," she said. "The Bad Seed, by William March." All the while, she absent mindedly stared past me, fingering strands of her hair, with a smirk plastered on her face. I had to tell her that we unforunately had no copies in stock, but our Broadway location seemed to have a few. I called the Broadway store. I put it on hold for her. "How do I get there? BUT I'M GOING TO GET LOST!!!!" she cried hysterically. I gave her directions. "So I take the 6 train to Astor. Now how do I get back?" she questioned, with a frighteningly maniacal laugh. Easy, genius, take the same train in the opposite direction. In spite of her obvious fatuousness, or maybe because of it, I drew her a map, out of the kindness of my heart.

To my relief she left. But like many undesirable customers, she returned, not even five minutes later. "I'm sorry, HOW DO I GET THERE AGAIN, I'M GOING TO GET LOST!" My patience can only be pushed so far, I've learned. She ever-so-kindly planted herself at the front of the store, conversing loudly with someone on the phone. I quickly learned, due to her whining complaints, that she desperately needed the book for a class, and no, she can't go downtown because she'll get lost. Boo hoo.
"Miss, if you need it for a class, it may be downstairs."
"YOU KNOW WHAT? WHATEVER!" she exclaimed, in tears.

If people were this emotional about receiving books and reading, I would love my job. There really must be something wrong with me, because I proceeded to help this obnoxious, abhorrent student anyway.

"Really, it'll be cheaper downstairs, sorry I didn't know it was for a class."
"SO YOU'RE TELLING ME. THAT I HAVE TO GO TO HUNTER. TO GET MY BOOK."

... I'm sorry, are we having the same conversation?

"AND WHERE IS DOWNSTAIRS. HOW COME YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THIS BEFORE?"
"You didn't tell me it was for a class. Books for classes are separate from trade books up here."
"UHHHH YEAH OKAY! LIKE I READ FOR FUN!"

The straw that broke the camel's back. Your sarcasm is only appreciated if it can be reciprocated by a punch in the face.

"BELIEVE IT OR NOT, SOME PEOPLE DO."
I drew you a map, I gave you directions, I put the book on hold for you. Please, allow me to throw the book that I'm reading for fun in your smug, self-righteous face.

I would have willingly thrown my book at her unappreciative mug because I unfortunately didn't enjoy it as much as I would have liked to. Amélie Nothomb's "Tokyo Fiancée" is a decent read, if you're looking for something light, without much substance. Translated by Alison Anderson from the original French text, the writing is simplistic yet philosphical. Amélie, a 21-year old Belgian, returns to her birthplace of Japan, where she engages in a love affair with Rinri, a 20-year old Japanese native. Their awkward relationship blossoms from her teaching French to Rinri, to their weekly lovers escapades in late-1980s Japan. Nothomb's work is an atypical love story, with little focus on the romance, but more emphasis on individual desire and freedom.

The plot didn't progress well, for the first half of the book it was at a bit of a standstill. The author's writing style is admirable, conveying beautiful images in an unadulterated fashion, "there has always been a megalomaniacal bent to my lyricism." It would have been put to good use if there were more substance to the story. The characters are far out of reach in terms of being relatable, as their relationship isn't well-developed. It does, however, showcase a comical and in-depth persepective on the relations between foreigners and the misunderstandings that occur among them. One aspect to be praised about this work is the knowledge it conveys about Japan. The culture, traditions and mannerisms of the Japanese are well-illustrated in the novel. Overall, it's a mediocre book book with refreshingly conveyed ideas.