Love & Other Bruises

Tess Duncan

I went into Readings to buy a book, Craig Sherborne’s new novel ‘The Amateur Science of Love‘. I couldn’t be bothered with a self-help search amongst the displays so approached the counter, a woman served me eventually and I stated my request.

 

She looked puzzled, but earnest, queried the book’s title and author. I repeated them and added the publisher. ‘No, No. They didn’t have it’. She checked on Google, The book didn’t exist. I re-stated the title. I assured her that Google knew of it.

 

 ‘Oh Right…. ‘. Keys clicked. ‘No Nothing’

‘The Amateur Science …of Life’??. is ..

 
‘…of Love’.

 

‘Oh of Love??? What’s the title again?’

 
 I repeated it.
 

 ‘Aah’, she looked inspired. ‘I know where to find it’, approached the shop’s Science section.

 ‘No’, I said, ‘It’s not a science book’.

 Puzzlement increasing, she renewed her efforts with the shop’s data base. More conversation as we sorted out the word ‘amateur’.

 ‘Ah we have it’, she announced triumphantly. ‘It is somewhere in the shop. We’ll find it’.

 

A re-assuring smile anticipating success, she sped to self-help section. ‘No’, I said, ‘It won’t be there, unless it’s under self-assisted suicides’. She soldiered bravely on.

 

Abandoning all hope, I wandered over to Joyce Carol Oates’ recent publication, ‘The Widow’s Story’ chronicling her struggle to adjust to her husband’s sudden passing. The cover of the book, white with gold embossing looked appropriate for a death. I clutched it underarm.

 

After many consultations between the staff and an apparent total shop dismantlement, the book eventually surrendered. It was laid on the shop counter with great ceremony like captured battle standards from Culloden, signifying both the victory and the rout. Someone’s fight had been won. It wasn’t mine though.

 

Having already garnered some knowledge that the book’s contents recount a black love story, I mused on the wit of the cover, two galahs; pretty colours, pretty birds, but still galahs.

 

The book’s back cover blurb, complemented by the critics’ reviews, gave the warning that can be summarised as ‘this is saturated pain’. As promised, the love sickness descriptions contained the appropriate devastation of the human heart.

I made it to page fifty-five. I have enough devastation of my own.

 I think I’ll try Joyce.

http://textpublishing.com.au/books-and-authors/book/the-amateur-science-of-love/