Page 19 of Wish You Were Her
Allegra looked surprised by his challenge, but she shrugged and smiled so winningly he was almost distracted. “I’m surehedoesn’t think his books are not ‘quality.’ Nor his readers.”
A tense hush fell over the table before Simon quietly whispered, “Oh, here we go.”
Jonah fixed her with a hard stare. “Have you read any of Quentin Morrison’s books? Because let me be the one to assure you that they hold no artistic merit.”
He watched her release a resigned sigh but she stood her ground. “No. I don’t really read crime novels.”
“You don’t? Shocker.”
“I read novels where people fall in love.”
“Well, romance is just like crime. Same tropes and formula, over and over again.”
“You say that like it’s derivative and not the foundation of the genre. The whole point of romance, and crime, is that the reader has some sort of expectation of the formula. It’s not classified as a romance novel if they aren’t together at the end, it’s not a whodunnit if there’s no body. The genre is a genrebecauseit has tropes and repeated patterns.”
“Authors should re-invent.”
“Yes, but not the wheel. And the wheel is the genre. Authors re-invent with their own voice. Marginalized authors, for example, do you think if they set a novel in a stately home or on a train or on the Nile, they don’t know that they’re referencing Agatha Christie? Of course they do, but they’re not a dead white woman, so it’s a brand-new lens.”
Jonah stared in astonishment. The mature part of his brain told him that he needed to ease up and do better with this girl, but the embarrassment begged him to stay cold, to hold on to a little dignity. In the end, all he could do was mumble, “Well… he’s a rich white dude, not a marginalized author. And his books aren’t any good.”
“Then why invite him?” demanded Allegra, arching a perfect eyebrow and staring him down.
“Because he’s a sell-out. Literally. Everyone buys a ticket. He brings in a lot of money.”
He watched Allegra consider his words and he could see himself going down in her estimation. “I suppose I’d rather be the kind of bookseller who can appreciate that there are all kinds of books in the world, than someone who can only make money from someone else’s art,” she said. “Sorry. Their lacking-in-quality art. Art that they don’t respect.”
Simon released a low whistle and Courtney’s lips twitched. Jonah looked to George, but his employer was gazing at his daughter with all of the burning pride Jonah had been craving from him over the last few years.
“I’m a bookseller,” Jonah said finally. “I don’t care about making money, this is not the job for that. I care about people finding quality prose.”
Allegra leaned a little more toward him and he grew suddenly nervous. “Then ask for authors you actually like and want to read. Maybe other people will feel the same. And geta more diverse line-up. In every sense, including genre. There should definitely be more romance writers on the program. More new voices. More women who write non-fiction. And children’s authors.”
“Write that down!” George said, turning to Courtney with a fizz in his mannerisms, one that Simon and Jonah had not been able to inspire of late.
Jonah got to his feet, a little jarringly. People started and stared at him in bemusement. He marched toward the bookshop door.
“I need some air!” he said flatly, as he made a hasty exit. “Carry on without me.”
“Don’t mind Jonah,” Simon said to Allegra, as she watched her sparring partner exit. He gave her a genuinely sympathetic smile and spoke with understanding. “He’s one of those booksellers who doesn’t like people touching the books.”
For the briefest of moments, while they’d passionately debated books, Allegra had entertained the idea thatJonahwas the bookseller emailing her.
But Simon was light and friendly and funny, just like his emails. Jonah was…
Not.
“I think I was a bit rough on him,” Allegra said begrudgingly.
“Don’t let him upset you,” Simon said, nudging her in an overly familiar fashion.
“I’m not upset,” she replied, and it was the truth.
“He doesn’t really like anybody. He tolerates most of us, but books are his only love.”
“And good luck to him.”
She broke off some of the doughnut and offered a piece to Simon, who gladly accepted.
