A loveless existence on a dark, dusty shelf will no longer do for one library book
Twenty years ago, one book was swept off its feet and out of a box in a bookstore. It was promised a new, beautiful life. A statue of a guy holding a shoe, a reading room with an amazingly blank ceiling to stare at when life gets boring and over 30,000 students were all supposed to help this little text’s dreams come true. However, life is never that glamorous.
“It all started out fine,” the book said. “In the ‘90s, I’d get read once a week. I was always checked out. There was a waiting list just to get your paws on me. Then those bastards kept improving the computer till everyone could have one. Computers ruin marriages!”
Soon, students were lined up in the library just staring at these screens, not even trying to hide their gazes from the book. In the shadows, the book looked on, smoking a cigarette and no longer caring about how the smoke would affect its pages.
“I’d ask if they needed me for writing their paper,” the book said. “They wouldn’t even look up from their stupid laptops, telling me that they’d ‘find a source online.’ Why are you rummaging through Google when you have the real thing right here? They’d just look at me and whisper, ‘It’s easier this way.’ It ain’t!”
The book tried to get the students’ attention through several desperate attempts. It started out with a new book jacket, trying to be more eye-catching. Then it moved on to pretending it was interested in the things that the students liked.
“Boy, do I love fidget spinners and me-mes!” the book would taunt, not realizing how foolish it looked for mispronouncing the word “memes” and thus throwing water on any possible romantic flame.
Every once in awhile, the book would get checked out and would immediately think that life was about to change for the better. But no! One lazy student would just find one quote on the third page to shove into an essay as their single, required, non-digital source and then just toss the book to the side. They didn’t even make it to the book’s climax.
“I got what I needed,” one student said. “I’m tired, stressed and unemployed. What do you want from me? “Love Actually?” I’m not writing you for 365 days like Gosling! I can hardly text my mom back.”
Finally gaining courage, the book had had enough. It packed its pages and dramatically whipped off the label on its spine, the wedding ring of books to libraries. The students didn’t even look up to notice as the book waddled out of the library and into a new life.
“I’m nobody’s boo thang, son,” the book said, as it whipped on its sunglasses.
Written by: Olivia Luchini — ocluchini@ucdavis.edu
(This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)
