Drew the curtain. Exposed the Blind.
And I am not disappointed
Imagine with me what it would be like to walk into a library in an era without digital. An era when the wooden shelves and musty paper give the words printed on them their own kind of smell. Among the rows and rows of titles are authors, A. Rand, C. Palahniuk. Rand’s books are thick and weighty and so are the ideas inside of them. It’s really almost too much to go through an entire reading to find the kernel of wisdom she meant to convey with all those words. And then there are Palahniuk’s books - who is he anyway? Oh that guy. His stuff is kind of weird, and we’re pretty confident he doesn’t have a huge audience. We’re sure there will never even be a book club group or anything about his work.
Now imagine with me that there are curtains at the tops of each one of the shelves, drawn discreetly when not in use. I’m going to draw the curtains over Rand and Palahniuk because I don’t want us to be distracted on our way to the easy reading section of the library. That is the section that smells polite and comfortable. It’s almost like old school week there- everyone in this section of the library has already figured out the rules, found their favorite author and keeps coming back for more. We smile knowingly and nod in familiarity as we discuss what everyone else is talking about.
I leave you to your compatriots for a moment. I run back to Rand and Palahniuk with my pen light and duck under the curtain. I snatch one of the lighter of their books – it will be easier to squeeze it in between the popular titles when I re-shelve it incorrectly in the easy reading section. Maybe one of us will give it a try if it doesn’t look so overwhelming.
I stand at the edge, watching the group expectantly, anxiously. I am sure that the one of you will pull the book I quickly shoved onto the random shelf at eye level – Palahniuk as it turns out.
And I am not disappointed. One of you has found it. My heart is racing as I watch you flip it over backwards and then open the book to the middle and back to the front cover again.
My heart is broken when I see that you grimace and then throw Palahniuk haphazardly onto the cart designated for books to be re-shelved.