A tale of two campus bookstores

The high demand item on recent Christmas shopping lists shocked the prognosticators. No one expected the new and complete Mark Twain autobiography to capture the reading public’s imagination, least of all book sellers.

I always buy my husband a book for Christmas. When I heard the critical acclaim for the book, I headed to the CSB/SJU Bookstore to pick up a copy. Turns out the volume’s sales caught everyone by surprise. Ann Jonas and I chatted about the situation. Ann is the general book buyer for the bookstore and my unofficial personal shopper for books.

If you ever want to start a conversation with Ann, ask her what she’s reading, or just finished reading, or planning to read. Ask her anything about books and prepare yourself for a lively conversation.

By the time I got back to my office, Ann had tracked down an available volume. I picked it up the next day. No problem. I should add that this example typifies the friendly and efficient service I experience at the bookstores both at CSB and SJU.

Contrast that with my experience a few weeks later on the East Coast, where my family and I travel each year to spend Christmas with my in-laws. This year, I visited the campus bookstore of a major university, in search of a copy of Don Quixote in Spanish. It was a different experience altogether from what I have come to take for granted on our campuses.

The bookstore is operated by a chain. After browsing a bit, I found a section of novels in Spanish, but no Don Quixote. I checked at the information desk, but no one was staffing it. In fact, I saw no staff at all, except the cashier at the front of the store.

Downstairs, I found another cashier handling textbook buy-backs and asked her if the store had Don Quixote in Spanish. She checked the computer, furrowed her brow, and asked if it was a textbook for a class.

What I wanted to say was this: Don Quixote is not a textbook. Written in the 1600s by Miguel de Cervantes, it is considered the first modern novel and is beloved around the world, if its translations into countless languages are any measure of its popularity.

Instead, what I managed to say in restrained disbelief was this: umm, no, it’s not a textbook.

I chose this option because I had concluded in the time it takes to gasp that the young woman would not appreciate if I launched into a literary rant in the middle of a bookstore. Besides, it would be rude.

The other day, back on campus, I popped into the bookstore to buy a book. Don Forbes, bookstores director, came over to chat. On my way out, I noticed copies of Autobiography of Mark Twain displayed on the best sellers wall. It’s good to be home.