"New York Times Best-Sellers That Nobody Reads, The Latest Dreck from Writers Who Phone It In, Ponderous Literary Prose with No Plot and Snotty Characters, Urban Musings by Self-Involved Authors who Don't Take Showers, Ongoing Sagas/Series That Lost Their Edge 4-5 Books Ago," and my all time favorite: "Books by Ivy League Graduates That Got Glowing Reviews in Prestigious, Low-Circulation Magazines Edited by Other Ivy League Graduates." (p. 123) Hilarious and SO true.
"Why, Miss Prim could even see a highly talented novelist writing about her exploits. The book jacket would feature a slim, attractive woman in her rose garden. under the title, the words "A Mystery Introducing Miss Felicity Prim" would appear, thus positioning her tale as the first in a wildly successful, long-running series. But no--Miss Prim was getting carried away. All of that was fiction, and this was the real world." (p 151-2)
"We were never organized readers who would see a book through to its end in any sort of logical order. We weave in and out of words like tourists on a hop-on, hop-off bus tour. Put a book down in the kitchen to go to the bathroom and you might return to find it gone, replaced by another of equal interest. We are indiscriminate."
"These are the settings and main characters. We are nestled into our beanbags: let us begin. (Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern.)"More quotes I love:
"[Loraine Best, the head librarian] came downstairs some Fridays just to smile and nod at the mothers as they dropped them off, as if she had some hand in Chapter Book Hour. As if her reading three minutes of Green Eggs and Ham wouldn't make half the children cry and the others raise their hands to ask if she was a good witch or a bad witch."And of course:
"..and there were at least three stacks of books I personally loathed but held onto just in case someone asked me to loan them ....I'd hate to have to say that I knew the perfect book, but I'd just given it away. Not that people often asked. But once in a while my landlord, Tim, or his partner, Lenny, would invite themselves in to peruse the stacks and ask the world's best question: 'Hey, what do you think I should read?' It was nice to be prepared."A little librarian fun:
"Once a year all the librarians in the county wedged themselves into high heels, tried to pull the cat hair off their sweaters with masking tape, and smeared their lips with an awful tomato red that had gone stale in its tube, all to convince the benefit set of the greater Hannibal region that libraries do better with chairs and books and money."(See also chapter 8 for "If You Give a Librarian a Closet.")
"I am the mortal at the end of this story. I am the monster at the end of this book. I'm left here alone to figure it all out, and I can't quite. How do I catalogue it all? What sticker do I put on the spine? Ian once suggested that in addition to the mystery stickers and the sci-fi and animal ones, there should be special stickers for books with happy endings, books with sad endings, books that will trick you into reading the next in the series."
“Unfortunately she met her mum by the gate, and she could tell by her face that Mum had had one of those days. Occasionally people came into the library and peed, pooed, or got drunk and starting shouting abuse. Drunks and vagrants went to sleep in the reference section. Once a very old man who lived on the streets had died on the Oxford English Dictionary. You might think that being a librarian would be a quiet, cushy job, but sometimes it seemed that the library was really a nightmarish extension of the mean streets and that librarians were just cops and paramedics disguised in tweedy cardigans and long dangly parrot earrings from the charity shop.”
"Like him, I have majored in English at college, with secret ambitions to go on studying literature or perhaps take a stab at journalism, but I hadn't had the courage to pursue either one. Life got in the way—two years in the army, work marriage, family responsibilities, the need to earn more and more money, all the muck that bogs us down when we don't have the balls to stand up for ourselves—but I had never lost my interest in books. Reading was my escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author's words reverberating in your head."
