I’m not too sure how I feel about A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
“Yes?” The librarian did not bother to look up.
“Cold you recommend a good book for a girl?”
“How old?”
“She is eleven.”
Each week Francie made the same request and each week the librarian asked the same question. A name on a card meant nothing to her and since she never looked up into a child’s face, she never did get to know the little girl who took a book out every day and two on Saturday. A smile would have meant a lot to Francie and a friendly comment would have made her so happy. She loved the library and was anxious to worship the lady in charge. But the librarian had other things on her mind. She hated children anyhow.
It hurts my heart.
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4 Comments
A book must be good to elicit that level of emotion, right?
See, but that wouldn’t be you. Everywhere, in every job, someone sucks and shouldn’t be doing it for some reason.
Which doesn’t invalidate the frustration at all. It probably trebles it.
Wow, I had been thinking about pm’ing you to see if you had read that book or any of her other books. I feel like you read my mind or something
It’s such a beautiful book, despite the mean librarian. I read her book “Joy in the Morning” this past weekend, and it was almost as good. Her main characters have a really fun and unique thirst for knowledge, and it’s fun to read about how it plays out.
Heartburn doesn’t mean that book hurt your heart. It just means you need to cut down from seven bowls of deer chili a day to two or three.