I enjoy reading and books and even enjoy reading about books. Lately there have been many books out about books, most of which I enjoyed. I enjoyed the one where the guy read the whole Encyclopedia Britannica, the one where the Microsoft employee brought books to Tibet, the one where the guy collected rare Yiddish books, etc.
This one was awful. I had doubts I would finish the book within the first ten pages, never a good sign. I actually made it a hundred pages more before chucking it.
The book is a memoir of a guy’s life spent selling books in cooler-than-your-bookstore-bookstores and also brief histories of book making and selling.
This would have all been fine except for the fact that you get the idea that this guy thinks he is perhaps the most intelligent, sophisticated, and elite person ever born because he spent an entire lifetime doing nothing but reading about other most intelligent, sophisticated and elite persons who spent their lives doing nothing but writing.
Goodness. It got old. Some people need to know that reading about other people’s lives is no substitute for living your own. As we all know, I am the most intelligent, sophisticated and elite person ever and that was my main issue.
If you’re a snob who works in a bookstore, this book will make you feel more snobbish. If you’re a snob who doesn’t like snobs who work in bookstores, this book will make you more snobbish too.