This story begins last Friday, when I went to the Stanford library to check out some books about the Musin-Pushkin family. (I think I might write a novel about someone who is obsessed with the Musin-Pushkins.) And let me tell you, it took a long time to round up all those books. My webmaster can confirm this since he was waiting for me outside, drinking espressos and getting really bored.
Then when I finally got to the check-out desk, I got stuck behind a crazy old lady in a bright red Chanel suit and matching lipstick, who not only checked out like a million books but also prolonged the transaction with a 10-minute commentary about how she will only read books whose call numbers start with PR, because they “come from the Commonwealth.” “Forbearance,” I counseled myself: “Someday you, too, may be a crazy old lady who is obsessed with call numbers.”
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