Every Sunday I go to work at a major bookstore.

It can be frustrating.

Today, I stood staring at a display. The best fiction of 2008, picked by some experts. I stood there for a long time before a manager approached.

“What’s up, man?” he said.

“Hi, Dave,” I said. “What’s this shit?”

“What?”

“Best fiction of 2008? Is this from corporate?”

“Yeah.”

“Who are these experts?”

He sighed, hung his head. “Listen, Bob, I don’t know.”

“Two of these books aren’t even fiction.”

I work at a major bookstore that wonders why it isn’t so major anymore.