Since our mother doesn’t read our blog, we’re comfortable discussing her freely. Today, we’d like to talk about the time she was feverishly working in the library, processing discards. You know, those books that must be cleared from the shelves so new books can take their place (elementary school libraries are notable for their lack of space, and, as noted, physical buildings don’t expand). She, by her own account, was in the zone. Yes, we wish she wouldn’t be in places like that, but what can you do? You can’t watch them all the time.
Discard, discard, discard. What is this? A little imp has scribbled in a book. Dis…oops! As it turns out, the little imp was Ray Bradbury and the signature is what we like to call an “autograph”. We won’t let her live this one down (especially since, through a weird twist of fate, we were with her the day the book was autographed. We met Bradbury and Leo Politi and many others.). The LA Weekly interview with Bradbury is really interesting (have we mentioned how fascinated we remain with the minutiae of author’s lives?), even if it’s perplexing placed in the theater section. Yes, we get the reason, but it still feels off.
- Rocket Man: In conversational orbit with Ray Bradbury
