It snowed the night before my last Intro to Fiction class, and I almost considered wearing the boots that my mother had insisted I bring to campus with me after Thanksgiving break. Our last Fiction class was going to be a “secret field trip,” except it was the same secret field trip Dr. Bailey had taken my summer writers workshop class on two years ago, so I was in on the secret. We met in the library like usual on Thursday and then walked to downtown Selinsgrove to the used bookstore, D.J. Ernst Books. I wore my sneakers and nothing bad happened to me on the walk over.At the store, Dr. Bailey bought each of us two books, two well-written books which he either picked or approved. No sappy romance novels. Nothing about aliens. For me he bought The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver and a collection of short stories by John Updike. Because I've never been able to walk into a bookstore without buying something and because paperbacks were only 50 cents, I ended up buying about six more books. I bought two James Baldwin novels, several more Barbara Kingsolver novels (I’ve never read any of her work before, but half the class assured me she’s an excellent author. Kristen, one of my classmates, nearly knocked me over when she thrust The Poisonwood Bible into my arms).
I also bought two Christmas presents for my mom (maybe because I was feeling guilty about not wearing those boots): a pristine-looking copy of The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Hannah Green, a book about a girl struggling to overcome schizophrenia I read in my high school modern fiction class.After our class was finished cleaning out the book store, we crossed the street and had coffee in the Kind Café. It was a nice way to end the class, sipping coffee and reading John Updike with the friends I’ve made in class this semester.
