We are in a crisis at the farm’s lending library. As with so many uncomfortable situations, one tends to wait and wait, hoping the problem will simply go away or solve itself (they do, sometimes, you know); but then things get so very bad that there is *no way* not to talk about it. Such is the case with our book collection, aka Newman’s Personal Library.
It all started about three years ago when the local librarian not only dissed Newman — she outright refused him a library card. Given the damage he’d inflicted on the items I was attempting to return without penalty, and given that she is, after all, a County Employee, I can’t completely blame her (although, just quietly, her attitude sucked).
More recently I found a sympathetic librarian at our local branch. Mr. Newman had taken a chunk out of the cover page of Google Advertising Tools.
I went in, penitent, and told her the truth. She laughed out loud, looked at the book and said with not a little glee, “oh, that’s not from our branch, no problem”, said she’d take it back and not even charge me the late fee because I’d entertained her. Now THAT is a great librarian.
However, still no dice on the library card for Newman.
So we go back to the barn problem and the swiftly diminishing lending library. I have been keeping a bit of a pulse on Newman’s choice of books, as well as those he eschews (or refuses to chew). While he has, to all appearances, moved away from the psych self help books (No More Mama’s Boy, Shame Begone, and other grim titles), I’m not entirely sure I approve of his choices.
Last week he made it almost all the way through Pet Semetary, and this week he has started on Wayfarer Redemption (you WISH, Mr. Newman Goat).
He has assiduously avoided the paperback version of A Time to Die (good, we are glad of that!), though it sits on top of the stack. But I’m terribly disappointed at the one book he might have gotten some true benefit from – and helped me out a bit, too: The One Minute Millionnaire.
I have to assume he knows what he’s doing. None of the other goats show any remote interest in reading; Mr. Newman makes a beeline for the barn loft every time he sees that door opening. I’m totally convinced that his choices are not random, and I’m beginning to wonder if I oughtn’t to visit the local second hand stores to pick up material I think might benefit his intellectual growth?
Till next time,
Star Gazing Farm 501(c)3
A haven for retired farm animals and wayward goats