Page 25 of Battle of the Bookstores

BookshopGirl:Anything I could get my hands on. Harry Potter, of course. Percy Jackson. Anne of Green Gables. Old Nancy Drew books. Newbery Medal winners, like Tuck Everlasting, The Westing Game.

RJ.Reads:And now?

BookshopGirl:Well, I read upcoming and new releases in order to recommend them to customers, or if I’m asked to blurb something. I try to keep up with the broader literary conversation, you know? Buzzy books, bestsellers, award winners.

RJ.Reads:To be honest, it kind of sounds like you think of reading as a job.

I sit back, stung. He’s right. Reading is still my favorite activity—but somewhere along my journey through adulthood, it’s started to feel more like a task on my to-do list than recreation.

RJ.Reads:Hey, sorry. There’s no right or wrong way to read, as long as you’re enjoying it.

BookshopGirl:No, it’s fine. That’s my point—since it IS my job, maybe that’s taken some of the joy away? I’m reading books I think I should read, not necessarily what I want to read.

RJ.Reads:Like forcing yourself to eat your vegetables because you know you need the vitamins and fiber.

BookshopGirl:Ugh. Am I the reader equivalent of the person at restaurants who orders a salad with dressing on the side, says no to the bread basket, and skips dessert? No one likes that person.

And I don’t want RJ to think of me as that person. Uptight; rigid. I’ve been called that before.

RJ.Reads:Not at all. I’m saying that any balanced diet should include desert.

RJ.Reads:*DESSERT. (Sigh. Why doesn’t this damn website have an edit feature??)

BookshopGirl:I knew what you meant?. And I see your point.

I’m remembering the rugelach Georgia brought. The sugar crystallizing on my tongue, the sensation of comfort as it settled in my stomach.

When’s the last time I felt that way about a book? Not in years.

BookshopGirl:So do you have a rec for me? Something…well, fun?

No response. The minutes tick by, and I’m surprised at how disappointed I feel.

Which is silly. I’m sure RJ has plenty of other things to do.

After ten minutes, I head home, heat up a microwave dinner, and crack open a sparkling water. I eat my sad little meal while reading an ARC that arrived earlier today, but it’s not grabbing me, so I set it down and get ready for bed.

As I’m about to turn off the light, my phone chimes.

RJ.Reads:Sorry, took a while because I was brainstorming titles that would be “fun” for the one and only BookshopGirl. Something superlong (obviously), complex and layered, with thought-provoking themes, and a satisfying but not-too-neat ending. I finally settled on one of my brother’s favorite books that he made us all listen to on a road trip. It’s a backlist title, you can probably get it at the library. Are you ready?

BookshopGirl:After that introduction? I’m on pins and needles.

RJ.Reads:Ha. I’m sure.

BookshopGirl:So what’s the book???

RJ.Reads:11/22/63.

I stare at his message, confused. Is that the pub date? I do a quick Google search.

BookshopGirl:By Stephen King? I’m not really a horror fan.

RJ.Reads:This isn’t horror, it’s a blend of science fiction and historical fiction. With an incredibly unique and intricate plot. And a protagonist you can root for. And a love story, but not a typical one. It’s like a fully balanced meal in one eight-hundred-page book—meat and potatoes, vegetables, and dessert.

A smile tugs at my lips.

BookshopGirl:Okay. I’ll give it a try.

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