Tim turned toward his bookcase and started pulling volumes out with enthusiasm. Read this. And this. And this. Etc. and so forth.
I just wanted to borrow one. A book called Augustus that he had recommended years before and that I had never read.
As he walked me out I mentioned that as I was borrowing a book from him, it was only fair that he get one from me. By this time we were at my car. Tim looked in the door, saw a stack of books on the passenger seat and grabbed the one on top.
“I’ve always wanted to read this,” he said, picking up The Sun Also Rises. “Is it good?”
What should I say? I kind of liked this guy, I wanted him to think I was intelligent...I mean, I am intelligent...but would telling him I had never read the book ruin the moment? I didn’t have time to think, I couldn’t risk it…
“It’s Hemingway...writing about bullfights.” This, in fact, was true. It was also all I knew about the book. But I said it in such a way that I might as well have said, “Well, duh, of course it’s good. It’s Hemingway writing about bullfights.” Intent to deceive? Perhaps. But with the best intentions.
Then it struck me. I had just given away my only copy of a book that I had never read but sure as heck better have read by the end of the week.
As Tim walked away from the car I pulled out my phone. No time for GPS: I opened my Audible app and downloaded The Sun Also Rises.
Driving home I frantically calculated the time I would have before our next meeting, divided it by the number of pages in Augustus and the number of hours of the book on tape.
Math is not my strong suit. I canned the calculations and hoped for the best.
Then I turned on the book.
A few days later I got an angry Facebook message from Tim’s roommate. “Just finished The Sun Also Rises, and I'm beyond furious with you. I tell both you and Tim that after a very long hiatus, I want to get back into reading...and then the first book I'm given is wonderful up until a last page, heart-crushing ending. At this pace, I'm going to need therapy after the next book.” He attached a very telling video clip that accurately summed up his reaction.
So apparently TSAR had a heart-crushing ending. Great. Hadn’t gotten to that part yet. But I couldn't profess innocence without revealing my deception. I pressed on.
I continued to speed listen - running, driving in the car - meanwhile inhaling Augustus at every free moment. At times I desperately considered listening to TSAR while reading Augustus. But that would have been a little extreme.
So my deceit was never discovered:
I came on Friday bearing Augustus, and with TSAR Audible credits still rolling on my phone. Tim was in disbelief.
“Gosh, did you really finish that? I haven’t even read the book you lent me yet.”
Well that’s pathetic. Because I did.
To be fair, it nearly killed me. But I had learned a valuable lesson.
--
Until there was Paul. This time I made sure to recommend a book that I had actually read. The only problem was that it was 800 pages long. When he started asking my opinion about certain key parts in the book, I realized that I remembered next to none of it.
So there went my entire spring. Good thing I love Dostoevsky.
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--
My recommendations became much more general after that. I figured, if I just drop an author's name, then I'm not responsible for whichever work they choose to read.
I need to be more judicious with the names I drop. Unfortunately, coupling the words "hilarious" and "Faulkner", or "comedy" and "O'Connor", seems to be taken as misleading by the majority of readers.
Christian, with the best intentions, picked up "A Rose for Emily" because it "made him think of me."
Oh dear. This was not going to end well.
I only hope that after he finished the story about the old woman who sleeps with the corpse of her would-be lover for 40 years it no longer made him think of me.
Needless to say, there were no roses for this Emily after that.
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