On-call Librarian

“Hi, I need a librarian’s opinion,” I heard over the phone. Nice you remembered I exist. I thought you were dead. “Sure,” I answered. “I may have only a few months to catch up with literature,” he continued. So not dead, but dying. “What should I read?” I paused for a few seconds. “That’s a tough one. How fast do you read?” I asked. “One book in one, two months.” “A tough one. Have you finished the books I gave you the last time we spoke?” Fifteen years ago. “No, never,” he told me. “Start with those,” I answered. One book every two months. A few months left. He won’t even get to the good stuff. “But they are long,” he moaned. “How do people read long books?” he continued. “How many books can you read in life?” he asked. Not many. “All of the classics, best ones in a single genre or two, some non-fiction, a few mediocre ones…” I began explaining. “Twenty,” he said, stopping me mid-sentence. “I read twenty books in my life,” he said. Did I catch a hint of pride? “Pick the Russians then. Dostoyevsky. Bulgakov. Chekhov,” I told him. Twenty. Twenty in life. I read twenty a month. “Those are long and difficult,” he complained. “How do you know if you haven’t read them?” I asked. Twenty in life. “Dostoyevsky then,” he said, ignoring my question. “Which one?” he asked. “Come to my library, I will give you the right one.” I have five lifetimes on a single floor. Even with twenty a month, I won’t finish either.