The Book-Categorizer’s Lament


This book is just madness. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t think it’s fiction. It’s certainly not fact. The history books hissed when it was brought near. The religion books gave it this hostile sneer. New Age turned its back; Philosophy wouldn’t even give it that. The text spills out round pictures meeting some need; the exposition plunges on as a panicked steed. It can’t be filed as a kitchen appliance or set of magnetic poetry blocks. We just have to put it on a little table by itself under signs reading “?”. If someone comes in saying they just need a “book” we can point them to this and wish them good luck.

Author: Joseph Nebus

I was born 198 years to the day after Johnny Appleseed. The differences between us do not end there. He/him.

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