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kaigouI've been formulating a long-overdue commentary on Diana Francis' Path of Blood, the final installment in her trilogy -- and then, having read Gail Dayton's final installment in her Compass Rose trilogy, as well, I noticed things about both that I thought each would highlight well in the other, illustrate some of what worked & didn't for me...and then Francis' newest book, The Cipher, hit the shelves.
Naturally I called the local bookstore to find out if my copy was in. No, not yet, they said, try tomorrow, because sometimes the Big Box bookstores get it before they do. Ah, welll, okay. I called again yesterday and they said the shipment had come in, so I said, eh, don't bother checking on the shelf, I'll be by today or tomorrow; they hold these for five days. This evening -- after being stuck in traffic and giving up the ghost halfway through the muddle, I said to myself, self, you're not far from the bookstore, let's go get a treat!
Except... no treat. Hrm, that's odd, it doesn't appear anyone actually put the to-be-saved book on the shelf. Oh, and look at that, the copies are all sold out. I gritted my teeth, but the bookseller knew just how to soothe thewildebeest irked bookbuyer. He looks up something in the computer, asks me which Big Box is closest to me, and I tell him I'll be going by the one on such-and-such road. He calls, he confirms they have a copy, he also confirms -- and waits on hold! -- that they've pulled it from the shelf, put my name on it, and it's waiting for me behind the desk.
I am happy customer (and this is why, given the time/chance, they get first dibs on my money, and I suspect they know this).
Off I go, run a few more of my far-spread errands on the way, and I come around the corner on such-and-such road and...
THERE IS NO BOOKSTORE.
Somehow, in the past two months since I last drove past this point, the bookstore MOVED, and was replaced by a SHOE STORE.
A frickin' shoe store, and I see no sign of "we've moved to ___" -- so now I'm a half-hour drive not counting traffic from the first bookstore, I know of another Big Box about a mile or two away but will they have the book, and it's not like I can call up information and say, yes, I'd like the address of the bookstore whose address used to be such-and-such road.
Right.
I hightail it, suitably annoyed by this point and starting to take it just a little bit personally, over to the next closest Big Box bookstore (which, incidentally, was in the opposite direction of home, and I'm also frickin' starving because I've been running errands since about 430pm and it's now 730pm...) and finally find a parking space because apparently this is the place to shop for overpriced stuff you don't need, on a Thursday night. Ibook hotfoot it into the bookstore, make a beeline past the oh-so-helpful too-cheery clerks calling out, "do you need any help?" and I'm this close to saying, "No, but I wouldn't turn down a flamethrower," because I just want my book, damn it, and my ability to handle delayed gratification is about delayed OUT...
...and I come around the corner and find the SFF section and there -- on the top shelf -- under the F's -- with a face-out -- is...
THE VERY LAST COPY.
Out of the corner of my eye! I kid you not! I see another person heading down the aisle towards me, browsing but moving fast enough that I can tell she's got something in mind. Quick, almost too fast for the eye to see, I SNAG THE LAST COPY OF THE CIPHER.
[Ed: There was no dancing, nor outward expressions of glee, but perhaps a moment of self-satisfaction at success.]
And then -- as I am getting my hot paw wrapped around the book, and feeling like perhaps all will turn out right with the world despite the past two or three days -- the girl looks at the shelf, looks at the empty space, looks at me, then looks at the book. And then does this pointed jerk of her head to look closer.
Girl: Is that the last copy?
Me: *suspicious* Yeah.
Girl: Really?
And then she proceeds to STARE AT IT. It's in MY hands, girlfriend, back off! I did not necessarily clutch the book to me, though I might've held it just a tad tighter, but I did not actually white-knuckle it. But she kept STARING. And I'm backing up a step, and she goes...
Girl: The last copy...
Me: *contemplating smug grin*
Girl: I've been waiting to read it.
Me: *contemplating snarling, TOO BAD MINE MINE MINE*
Girl: Hunh.
I kid you not, she heaved a huge sigh. The only thing missing were the puppy-dog eyes, but I am IMPERVIOUS to deep sighs, and I laugh in the face of puppy-dog eyes. (Now, if she'd followed me around while pronking, I may've shoved a dog treat down her throat -- or a fist -- by pronk-four, but I am otherwise impervious, take that.) I did not snarl, in the end, though I might've glared, just a bit -- just a tiny bit, enough to get her to back off a step. She did, I vamoosed, and now I am at home with the LAST COPY from that particular bookstore, at least.
I was tempted to tell her, "you can have the copy waiting for me at the bookstore that used to be where there's a shoestore now... if you can actually find the bookstore, that is."
Which is all to say: having done battle with the POWERS THAT BE and having emerged VICTORIOUS, I shall now readmy hard-won loot The Cipher and any reviews will just have to wait until I'm done with this paragraph chapter book.
Nyah.
Naturally I called the local bookstore to find out if my copy was in. No, not yet, they said, try tomorrow, because sometimes the Big Box bookstores get it before they do. Ah, welll, okay. I called again yesterday and they said the shipment had come in, so I said, eh, don't bother checking on the shelf, I'll be by today or tomorrow; they hold these for five days. This evening -- after being stuck in traffic and giving up the ghost halfway through the muddle, I said to myself, self, you're not far from the bookstore, let's go get a treat!
Except... no treat. Hrm, that's odd, it doesn't appear anyone actually put the to-be-saved book on the shelf. Oh, and look at that, the copies are all sold out. I gritted my teeth, but the bookseller knew just how to soothe the
I am happy customer (and this is why, given the time/chance, they get first dibs on my money, and I suspect they know this).
Off I go, run a few more of my far-spread errands on the way, and I come around the corner on such-and-such road and...
THERE IS NO BOOKSTORE.
Somehow, in the past two months since I last drove past this point, the bookstore MOVED, and was replaced by a SHOE STORE.
A frickin' shoe store, and I see no sign of "we've moved to ___" -- so now I'm a half-hour drive not counting traffic from the first bookstore, I know of another Big Box about a mile or two away but will they have the book, and it's not like I can call up information and say, yes, I'd like the address of the bookstore whose address used to be such-and-such road.
Right.
I hightail it, suitably annoyed by this point and starting to take it just a little bit personally, over to the next closest Big Box bookstore (which, incidentally, was in the opposite direction of home, and I'm also frickin' starving because I've been running errands since about 430pm and it's now 730pm...) and finally find a parking space because apparently this is the place to shop for overpriced stuff you don't need, on a Thursday night. I
...and I come around the corner and find the SFF section and there -- on the top shelf -- under the F's -- with a face-out -- is...
THE VERY LAST COPY.
Out of the corner of my eye! I kid you not! I see another person heading down the aisle towards me, browsing but moving fast enough that I can tell she's got something in mind. Quick, almost too fast for the eye to see, I SNAG THE LAST COPY OF THE CIPHER.
[Ed: There was no dancing, nor outward expressions of glee, but perhaps a moment of self-satisfaction at success.]
And then -- as I am getting my hot paw wrapped around the book, and feeling like perhaps all will turn out right with the world despite the past two or three days -- the girl looks at the shelf, looks at the empty space, looks at me, then looks at the book. And then does this pointed jerk of her head to look closer.
Girl: Is that the last copy?
Me: *suspicious* Yeah.
Girl: Really?
And then she proceeds to STARE AT IT. It's in MY hands, girlfriend, back off! I did not necessarily clutch the book to me, though I might've held it just a tad tighter, but I did not actually white-knuckle it. But she kept STARING. And I'm backing up a step, and she goes...
Girl: The last copy...
Me: *contemplating smug grin*
Girl: I've been waiting to read it.
Me: *contemplating snarling, TOO BAD MINE MINE MINE*
Girl: Hunh.
I kid you not, she heaved a huge sigh. The only thing missing were the puppy-dog eyes, but I am IMPERVIOUS to deep sighs, and I laugh in the face of puppy-dog eyes. (Now, if she'd followed me around while pronking, I may've shoved a dog treat down her throat -- or a fist -- by pronk-four, but I am otherwise impervious, take that.) I did not snarl, in the end, though I might've glared, just a bit -- just a tiny bit, enough to get her to back off a step. She did, I vamoosed, and now I am at home with the LAST COPY from that particular bookstore, at least.
I was tempted to tell her, "you can have the copy waiting for me at the bookstore that used to be where there's a shoestore now... if you can actually find the bookstore, that is."
Which is all to say: having done battle with the POWERS THAT BE and having emerged VICTORIOUS, I shall now read
Nyah.
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Date: 16 Nov 2007 04:50 am (UTC)