Independent bookstores, whatever their other virtues, are often staffed by condescending prigs who do not approve of people like me. The only writers they like are dead or exotic or Paul Auster. Independent bookstore employees have a disproportionate respect for writers named Banana or Arno. If your name is Janos or Czeniew or Bjini, you're in like Flint.

Joe Queenan, One for the Books


One grumpy dude.