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Today a Russian bookstore owner spent five+ minutes trying to convince me to purchase books by Hemingway, Dickens, Kipling, and Faulkner (all like they were brand spanking new winners of Granta's Best Young Novelist awards). He didn't make much headway--although he did keep trying Famous Dead White Male Author after Famous Dead White Male Author--because, like MANY PEOPLE, I have already heard of them. In fact, I've even read their books! And taught of their works to wee middle schoolers! Fancy that!

I told him that but he kept going. We did share a dislike for Dickens, which was a nice moment. (I guess the Russian translations of Dickens are a bitch.)

He then stepped aside, and this is going from FAULKNER, people, to recommend Dan Brown. Of The Da Vinci Code fame. Faulker . . . natural progression . . . Dan Brown?! I may have committed a literary sin by placing those two names in one sentence.

When I said I wasn't interested in Mr. Brown's book, he asked if it was because I was Catholic and offended by the book. I wanted to say it was Mr. Brown's insipid, lacklustre writing style that offended me, but instead I said that regardless of my religion, I didn't care for his writing style.

And hasn't everyone who wanted to read The Da Vinci Code, read it by now? It's no spring chicken.

He said he liked The Da Vinci Code because he learned so much, like the the Internet was invented by Europeans. (This was better than the anti-Catholic rhetoric I expected. Of course, in that situation, I could have thrown down my Theology degree and gone a few rounds.)

I didn't want to get into a discussion about different people working on different ideas, collaboration, DARPA, inventing versus putting into use, it doesn't matter/I don't care who created the darn thing, etc. etc., so I said, "That's nice," and tried (again) to end the lecture and get my browsing finished.

Honestly, I think he was just trying to sell me some spendy books (all the ones he pointed out were classy leatherbound Classics) and I'm pretty sure his shop had far too many copies of Mr. Brown's paperback. It's just that he was so irritating and only succeeded in making me uncomfortable. I know how to pick out my own books! I know Hemingway is considered a Great American Author! (He asked me, "For Whom the Bell . . . ?" "Tolls?" I finish. "Rings," he says, "we say 'Rings.'" We who? Russians? They say "rings?")

* (ASIDE ONE)

As far as I can figure out (by looking at the Russian Wikipedia page on Hemingway), the Russian title of For Whom the Bell Tolls is this:

По ком звонит колокол

Which, through the magic of the European Interwebbynets translates to:

• After whom the bell calls
  
• The bell is rung on anyone
  
• On a clod the bell calls
  

OF COURSE books written in English and published elsewhere often have different titles; languages are different, you've got varied structure, tenses, alphabets, punctuation, etc. Even situations that you think would be straightforward, like an American book published in the UK, English to the Queen's English, even those book titles are sometimes changed. I'm not calling for an exact match, even with the amazing EuroNettyInterWeb at my fingertips. My point is: there is NO RINGING in my half-assed translations! (There is a rung, but no ringing!) It is TOLLS, that bell TOLLS, just like Donne wanted it to. And do you go to other countries and argue about the original titles of their books with native literature teachers? Hmmm?

** (ASIDE TWO)

I re-fed the translation into the translators (going from the Russian to English, putting that English back into Russian, and then clicking that Russian back into English) and I got this:

• After to whom names a call
  
• Bell wakes run on any
  
• On a clod of the requirement of a call
  

Oh InterEuroWebnet! Thanks to Google, I can access your random, pointless and amusing information.
[end of asides]

I approached the register with four books (including three green Viragos) and patiently waited behind some chatty elderly ladies. Then a massive hardcover Welsh-English dictionary caught my eye (this bad boy) on their Internet Sales shelf. I got a great deal for $25. (yes, I spent $25 on a Welsh language dictionary. I do come across Welsh words in my reading and have been wanting a Welsh dictionary for a long long time.) (And this way, I don't have to rely on the scores of fine online Welsh translators!) (I still need a decent Russian dictionary; mine sucks.)

Where was I--

Okay. So the elderly ladies finish, and the Russian man tells them to come back soon and not spend their money on Schnapps and drink too much. I get up to the counter and he spies that big fat book and gives a huge smile. "Ah, you found something else! Good, good!" The woman running the desk knocks five bucks off my total (!) and I pay and exit, safe as houses.

It was all quite entertaining but one obviously has to drop monies to keep this guy happy. If I'd nothing in my hands when he first approached me, I don't know what would have happened.