Page 6 of Love in the Stacks
Keep an open mind
Molly:
And congrats!
Nicole:
Thanks!
Molly is my older sister—she tends to keep me balanced with her calm, measured advice. She’s three years older than me at twenty-eight, and an environmental scientist, focused on coastal research. She’s pretty single-minded about her work. Olivia, who everyone except our family calls by our last name, Delaney, is our younger sister. She’s twenty-one and in her senior year of college. She lives in Austin with our parents as she finishes her degree in … I think exercise science? She’s changed majors a couple of times, so I’ve honestly lost track.
I take Molly’s advice to “keep an open mind” with me into my first meeting with Adam the next day. We agree to meet in my office at two o’clock. I’m shuffling through some papers in my top desk drawer when I hear someone clear their throat. I look up and see Adam standing in the doorway. I check the clock on my computer screen. Two o’clock on the dot.
“Come on in,” I tell him, gesturing to a chair by my desk. I realize too late that there’s a stack of books, graphic novels in fact, on the chair. “Oh,” I say. “Sorry. You can just move those anywhere.”
As Adam scoops up the books, I study him. He has thick, brown hair that’s short and neat, the longer strands in the front combedto one side. He looks to be average height, taller than my five feet five inches by at least four inches. He’s wearing khaki chinos and a hunter green pullover cardigan, the collar of his black, plaid, button-down shirt folded neatly over the sweater on the back of his neck and around to the lapels. He’s lean but not overly skinny. As he sits, his eyes catch mine—light brown with long lashes behind square, black-rimmed glasses. His face is clean-shaven.
Adam looks at me expectantly, and despite my commitment to keep an open mind, I feel irritated and on edge.
“Hi,” I say, not smiling.
“Hi,” he answers hesitantly.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I blurt.
The corners of Adam’s mouth tip up slightly, but he answers seriously. “I didn’t think you did.”
“Apparently Herb does,” I grumble, now regretting this approach.
“Nicole,” he starts, and something in the way he says my name catches my attention. I can’t put my finger on it, but it sounds … practiced, maybe? “I don’t think you need a babysitter. I’m positive you could do this all on your own. That being said, Herb assigned me to work with you, so,” he shrugs, “put me to work. As far as I’m concerned, you’re in charge, but I hope I can still be useful.”
“I think that’s the most words I’ve heard you say at once.” I realize with a gasp that I’ve said this out loud and quickly backpedal. “I mean, we just haven’t worked together much before this…” I trail off, feeling the heat in my face.
“I’m usually quiet,” he says softly, his cheeks reddening slightly.
I instantly feel guilty for embarrassing him. I take a deep breath, recommitting to the whole “open mind” thing.
“How familiar are you with graphic novels?”
“Not very,” he admits. “I don’t read them personally and I’ve never cataloged any. But I’ve been looking at the online catalogs of other academic libraries with graphic novel collections. There aren’t a ton, but enough that I got a sense of some best practices.”
“Oh.” Maybe Adam will be helpful after all. He certainly has done his homework. “Whatdoyou read?” I can’t help but ask, even though it’s taking us slightly off topic.
He cocks his head a bit as he answers. “History mostly. Nonfiction. Especially World War II.”
Well, that seems to be on brand. I nod. “I can recommend some graphic novels that are related to history,” I offer. “Actually, there’s a massively popular comic calledMausthat’s about World War II, specifically the Holocaust.”
“Are comics and graphic novels the same thing?”
“Well, yes and no. Technically, comics are shorter, serialized stories and graphic novels are longer and more stand-alone. But often we use the wordcomicsto talk about the story itself rather than the medium. So graphic novels are comics, but comics aren’t necessarily graphic novels.”
He nods, looking at me seriously. I can really get going when I’m talking about this, and I’ve often seen a distinct glazed look on the faces of others when they’re listening politely but aren’t really interested. That’s not how Adam is looking at me now. I get theimpression that I have his full attention, so I continue, leaning in and making eye contact.
“There are, of course, graphic novel series, where each individual novel stands alone but also connects into the other stories in the series. There are several well-known kids’ series, likeDiary of a Wimpy KidandDog Man. But there are series written for adults, too.”
“Are there nonfiction graphic novels, too, or mostly fiction?” Adam asks.
“Both. I’ve seen quite a few memoirs and biographies. There’s some discussion about the use of the term novel to describe nonfiction in comics, but it’s mostly from people who are outside the genre, not writers, illustrators, or fans. And if Truman Capote could callIn Cold Blooda nonfiction novel back in the sixties, I don’t see why graphic novels can’t be nonfiction…” I trail off, realizing that I’m maybe getting carried away. “Anyway,” I blush. “I’ll step off my soapbox now.”
