Nympho Librarian

nympho librarian What is the relationship between reading and fucking in the stacks? What is the relationship between reading about fucking and then getting your Dewey decimals in a twist and ending in the self-help section when you are trying to find that book about poodle grooming. Why do we assume that under the brittle mask of respectability and pink knitwear dresses (that’s just the guys ) there lies an untapped Etna, a volcano waiting to blow its rubble all over the study area. Well, it just might be true.

Here at Grey Gables I’ve done some awful things to clear the book dust from my lungs. I have abused my privilege. I’ve offered to waive a 50p reservation charge in return for favours, things I’d rather not go into here.  Worst of all is my infatuation with Amanda Wang, sweet of face, slim of leg and with a gazelle like playfulness– a skittishness– as she tiptoes around the shelves.

I wanted her in the racks, in the sorter, in the hoppers, on the pod, on the nod, in the noddy. She came in and took advice about books to read. I clocked she was carrying Divorce For Dummies and What Men Really Want. 

When she left I looked up her borrower records, found out she was interested in astrology, the way of the Cundulini — a rare and esoteric martial art involving cutlery. She liked dolphins.  Awwww. I wore my Flipper t-shirt to work and got a bollocking from Geoff Goodtimes about my appearance.  And then our flirtation increased.  ‘I am a Sagittarius, the most philosophical of the star signs…’

‘Oh, really? I am fire spirit… I wear lemon yellow on Wednesdays to increase luck…  By the way nice t-shirt…’

She zipped off towards the window. Next time I will ask her to go for a coffee. But sadly her borrower records tell a rather different story. Motown, The Best of Barry White— I watched the items pile up in the self-service kiosk under the lapping green light. I tried to tell myself she was just dancing on her own. She was perhaps ‘self-dating.’  But the books on massage, Rumi’s poetry and her smile, ‘the only love worthwhile is the one that annihilates (she was reading off the dust jacket). Don’t dip your toe in the ocean, full immersion is what’s required…’  And the tantalizing thought that I try and choke down– those new items, could they be for me?  Has she felt it too– the quiver and transparency of nerve endings until we’re more atremble than an electric jellyfish. Oh sweet sweet Amanda Wang! We could have a Thai meal– a chicken Penang…. when will she be in again? I wait beneath the  book dust or is it dandruff drifting from the ceiling.


Life’s young love becomes life’s old lech, yes that is the way of it… nothing has happened. Only time has intervened and made you look foolish.’  Algernon Rosewood in a letter to his mother in the special collection

4 responses to “Nympho Librarian

  1. Emma Togean

    i love it!

  2. Ian

    I was in a second hand bookshop earlier this week reading [rereading] Anais Nin’s Delta of Venus – a concentrated scowl masking an involuntary leer. Keep playing with your Wanger. An amusing aside.

  3. Pingback: Daniel Jeffreys | Haringey Literature Live

  4. Best wishes with Amanda Wang. ~ Dennis

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