A commitment

I work as a bookseller. It’s the sort of job that will always have some random stranger expressing jealousy at dinner parties. The idea of spending your days surrounded by words is a very appealing one to a certain type of person. Luckily for me, those are just the sort of people I like ending up talking to. Give me a couple of glasses of wine to take the edge off and I’d much rather hear you talk about your passion for regency romances or Star Trek novelisations than listen to you talk about the epic run you had last weekend, or how much your car costs. Just don’t talk to me about self-help books. Not that self-help books are bad, in themselves. My wife sells them for a living. But there is something about going on about a self-help book that you love that reveals more about you than strangers at a dinner party need to know. Continue reading

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