The End Of Mr. Y

by Scarlett Thomas

If this book was a piece of fruit, I probably would have bruised it in the store.  

Leigh's has a table with new fiction near the door, and I find reasons to step inside and peruse the offerings on a regular basis (The reasons are usually some variation of 'oh, I can see the bookstore from here.  There are books in it.'  That's a reason, right?  It's a form of literary tourism.)

The End of Mr. Y lived at the end of the table, easy to see as I walked past.  The cover has an orange-y background, which also increases its visibility.  And a big black dot.  And a mouse.  And, well Kelly Eismann, where ever you are, you are one fine cover designer.  

A quote on the cover by Jonathan Coe promised "Not only will you have a great time reading this book, but you will finish it a cleverer person than when you started."  I like being cleverer.  (Did I have any idea who J. Coe was at the time?  Not a clue.  Even now I only know what I saw when I skimmed Wikipedia.  So clearly it is the quote not the one being quoted that drew me in.)

As implied by the bruised fruit statement, I picked this book up, put it down, picked it up again, down again.  Left the store.  Did not come rushing back in as I imagine one might at an animal shelter, realizing that someone else might grab that adorable kitten while you are thinking about it.  Didn't think about the book until my normal literary tourism drew me back to the store.

Once again attracted to the cover.  Once again picked it up, read the back cover again.  Which, re-reading it just now, can see how it did not draw me in right away.  Still not oozing persuasion to me.  Once again put it down.  Ended up with a different book.

It wasn't until my third visit to the bookstore with The End of Mr. Y on the table that I ended up buying it.  I think I was just used to holding it by then.   When it comes down to it, the book probably came home with me because I was hungry for a book, and it felt familiar yet new.

The woman at the register was excited that I bought it, since she was the one who had ordered it for the shop.  That is one of the things I love about independent bookstores, you're dealing with individuals not distant corporate managers. 

And then the book just sat around the house.  Because, as is often the case (and yes, thank you, I do have a book buying problem) I actually had stuff at home to read.  And the same pick it up and put it down impulse I had at the store continued to impact my relationship with the book even when I owned it.

But finally around New Years I realized I still hadn't read it, and so I finally did.  And that doesn't really answer the why did I read it question.  What was the magic line in the sand that finally got crossed that got it transferred out of the to be read pile and into the I've read it and need to sell it back to the new and used book store?

Um... dunno.  Maybe that's why I call it the magic line...  if I knew how it worked it would be the clearly defined line with accompanying spreadsheet.