I was in a Midtown Manhattan Barnes & Noble yesterday afternoon when I saw some guy start to read my Clemens book. I watched him flip through the pages, sneeze on the cover, glance through the pictures, show it to his wife …
… then leave without making the purchase.
I suppose I could have awkwarded him to deathâ€””I wrote that, you know” or “I just read that book and it’s truly amazing!”â€”but that would have been historically pathetic. In fact, over the course of four books, only once before had I ever seen someone actually reading one. It was on a train from the city to New Rochelle; a young dude paging through “The Bad Guys Won!” I said, “Hey, how is that book?” He started telling me about it, the characters and theme and all. He seemed to really like it.
I said nothing about having written it. Seemed cooler that way.