Bookstores and Religion
Samuel runs into Father Patrick Sullivan at the best fae-owned bookstore in the city.
Turn the Page: Water Tower Plaza-Michigan Street: North
The doors open with a fait tinkle of wind-chimes, letting you into a cozy shop of wood floors, comfortable chairs, and well placed lighting with an obvious focus on books. No matter which way you turn, there are shelves and more shelves, crammed with books of all sizes and genres, the wood dark against the soft cream of the walls. Though right beside the door to the right is a bit of a reprieve, the main counter breaking up the endless shelves. It’s a curve of warm cherry wood, around chest height. A deep blue pot is tucked to the side, trails of ivy spilling over the edge of both the pot and the counter. Throughout these vines are a few blue flowers of another plant, adding in a splash of color. Behind the counter, on the wall, is a shelf offering things other than books, like a few teas and candles, as well as a random small plushy that usually changes every week. Spaced along the walls are not pictures of readeres or catchy phrases and discounts. Instead are cleverly framed postcards from seemingly every city in Europe and a few elsewhere.
Spaced comfortably, the deep wooden shelves form a few straight lines while at other positions, form little nooks that are lighted by floor lamps and sport one or two comfortable arm chairs and offer a bit of privacy for reading. Rows upon rows of books might seem a bit daunting, but here, it feels almost like a dream with the scent of paper and a hint of dust. On each shelf in a small plaque telling what the section holds, echoed with a larger one on the side of the row. Not all of what is offered here is for adults. Tucked in the corner across from the counter and by a window is a smallish carpeted area, sporting a small table and chairs as well as a few beanbag chairs and well loved stuffed animals in a whicker basket. Everyone is welcome to waste away time here.
It’s Sunday, September thirtieth 2007. 03:07 pm
The sun is up. The new moon is up. <10.0% full and fading>
The tide is low and rising.
Fair weather clouds glow white in the blue sky. A cool wind blows from the east.
It’s mid-afternoon on one of those autumn days that one imagines is the last perfect day before things turn really cold – light, high clouds, a cool gentle breeze, and a warm, friendly sun – though hopefully since it’s still September the year still has a couple more of those in it. Regardless of the number of perfect days remaining it’s a good day to be out. Samuel is one of the many out enjoying the weather, doing a little shopping, and at the moment Turn The Page is tugging at his wallet. He’s back in the stacks, in the literary fiction section, scanning titles, with a gloved hand poised to pull a book out if something about its spine piques his interest enough.
Patrick has never really been one to pass up a bookstore. While it wasn’t a favorite pasttime when he was younger, since he went to college and entered the Seminary, he found reading to be an excellent diversion so that he could keep out of trouble. Now is no different. In fact, lately, he’s found himself reading more often than not on his downtime. Since it was such a pleasant day, he’s gone out for a walk just to explroe the city some more. It’s been around a year, but there haven’t been too many days where he hasn’t had an itinerary. Today just happens to be one of them. Dressed in his blacks and a light blazer, he makes his way into the bookstore to just browse among the racks. His first stop isn’t the religion section, however, but literature. Noting the gloved man and his fairly innocuous scents, he looks at the book that is being taken down before offering in a promininent Irish lilt, “That one’s not bad. A little slow in the beginning, but it picks up after about the first hundred pages.”
Samuel is of a similar stripe: but then one does not study Philosophy and History without enjoying reading, a lot, so it’s no great leap for someone to guess this about him if they know him a bit. He’s dressed in seasonably suitable attire: jeans and a long-sleeved button down shirt which is untucked. The gloves are a bit of an odd addition perhaps. He looks up from the crouch he dropped into while perusing book spines as the someone enters the section with him. At first he sees only black clothing and wonders if the man is some sort of well-dressed goth, but then he sees the collar and hears accented words. “Oh?” He asks as he locates the indicated book and pulls a copy off the shelf as he stands. “Mmm, I’ve not read the author, but it’s always good to add a new one to my list.” He opens the book to scan the dust jacket text curiously. “Sounds interesting. Thanks.” He grins and adds, “I suppose I owe you a recommendation in return, no?” His voice is unaccented, apparently this Asian-looking man was born here in the States.
Patrick chuckles and gives a wave of his hand, “Only if you wish. My book-advice….in fact all of my advice is free for the asking. I’m sorry if I interrupted your thoughts by offering it.” The gloves are noted but nothing is said regarding them. “Just don’t let the slow pace put you off. If you get past it, it’s really quite good.”
Samuel grins. “Oh, I do. I enjoy sharing a good book with someone almost as much as reading it in the first place.” He nods at the warning. “I should be fine. It can’t be as ponderous as some of the Philosophy texts I read back in grad school after all.” He looks at the shelves again and hmms. “And for the padre, what to recommend. “Ah, yes.” He pulls a mid-sized book from the shelf. “‘The Flanders Panel’ by Perez-Reverte.” He gives the Spanish last name a fairly accurate pronunciation for those who know the language to judge. “A mystery recommended by Samuel Kwon,” he adds by way of introduction.
“I am with you regarding the Philosophy texts,” Seems he read more than a few himself back in the day. The offered book is taken and looked through briefly, “Thank you. I haven’t read this one yet…or anything by this author. I am looking forward to it.” At the introduction he smiles and gives a nod, “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kwon. Father Sullivan…” the other didn’t hold out a hand, so he doesn’t either. But he’s prepared to do so.
After handing the mystery to Sullivan, Samuel has a hand free to offer as a shake, he does so though it’s obviously out of sync with the introduction. “I image you get a few slow theology books too, eh?” he asks mostly rhetorically. “He’s a good author, writes a nicely layered mystery. Sort of an Umberto Eco light – which is good, since Eco is most definitely not for everyone.” He bobs his head. “And a pleasure to meet you as well, Father Sullivan. Though call me Samuel, please.”
Patrick takes the offered hand, “Most theology books are slow. It helps to have books that move quickly to break up the monotony.” He nods though as the book is described, “I think I understand. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it then. Thank you for the recommendation, Samuel.”
Samuel grins and nods. “Indeed. I ventured into the territory a little in some courses. This isn’t super fast, but it’s not slow either.” He sets the book Patrick recommended in the basket next to him. “You’re very welcome. If you want something lighter and faster paced, I’d recommend anything by Christopher Moore. He’s a bit irreverant, but it’s always seemed to me that Catholics tend to get less bent out of shape about that sort of then by far than most other Christian denominations.”
Patrick certainly does wear his religion on his sleeve…or rather, about his neck. “As long as I am not being forced to change my belifs, I am more than happy to read irreverent authors. If I didn’t, I’m afraid that I would be severly limited.” When he mentions the Catholics not getting bent out of shape, that gets a one-shouldered shrug, “I suppose we are fairly firm in our beliefs and the only one who can make us question it is ourselves. Although I am sure there are exceptions everywhere.”
Samuel shakes his head. “Nah. Moore is just a bit zaney, and that comes through in his take on religion. He’s not preachy at all.” He chuckles. “Indeed. Sometimes I have to wonder what some of these people who take exception with the minutae of some random book read.” He hmms as the man’s half-shrug explantion. “That for sure, and I think there is a lot of focus on scholarship in Catholicism. You’re taught to study and learn, not to knee-jerk at the first besmirchment of God or case for agnosticism that comes along.” He chuckles and says good naturedly, “Undoubtedly. Somewhere out there is a Southern Baptist with a PhD in Biology or Physics, I just know it.”
“I suppose it depends on how deeply you immerse yourself. Catholocism is one of the oldest incarnations of Christianity and as such, has an incredibly rich history, I’ve found. Most don’t go very deep into it unless you choose to make it a large part of your life.” As he has. The young priest gives a smile when the Southern Baptist is mentioned, “I’m sure there is. But I would think that he or she is not one of the ones crying ‘foul’ whenever something controversial comes across in their reading.”
Samuel slides a little further along the shelves, but is clearly listening to his impromptu companion’s response at least as much as looking at books. He nods. “Indeed it does. I was raised a Buddhist, and my studies were focused on the Far East, so I’m hardly an expert on any Western religion, but I think any scholar will eventually touch on some facet of the Church in their studies. I certainly did.” He grins and inclines his head. “Oh, absolutely. At least I should hope not! Such a person would almost necessarily have to be willing to consider intellectual challenges to their faith at the very least.” He seems to be enjoying the conversation a great deal. “How long have you been ordained? If that’s not too personal a question.”
“Buddhism is a lovely religion,” Patrick offers. “I remember studying it in Divinity school. And I’ve been ordained for two and a half years now…not very long I know. But my Church is the large Cathedral on Ashland…’Our Lady of Lourdes’.” It seems that he’s going to sort of skip over the ‘dissing’ of the Southern Baptist type. “I don’t mind you asking. It’s not like you’re asking something terribly personal.”
“I really appreciate it,” Samuel says. “Even if I don’t follow some of its tenant very closely these days, I think it gave me a very good grounding for living a good and decent life, which I suppose is one of the main purposes of religion at least anthropologically.” He hurms, then asks, “Or would that be Socialogicaly?” A shrug and he’s back to listening. “Ahh, yes. I know it. I go to the Secret Garden Cafe up there sometimes.” He grins and nods. “Fair enough. For my part, I’ve been a professional investigator for a little over a year now. What brought you to Chicago? Did the Church assign you here or was the move here your idea?”
“I’ve read that it’s as much about being a lifestyle as it is a religion,” Patrick offers in response. “Perhaps it’s a little bit of both? After all, people need something to believe in so that they can go about their life, no? Whether it’s God or Buddha or Allah or the Flying Spaghetti Monster.” The priest gives another smile before he nods at the mention of the cafe, “I know it well. I haven’t been there in a while, but in the warmer weather I often go there for lunch or tea. There are quite a few private investigators in Chicago…or perhaps I’ve just met them. You aren’t investigating -me-, are you?” It’s said with a smile but there is also a little bit of seriousness to that question. “I was assigned to the parish here. I am from Boston…by way of Ireland, of course.” If he couldn’t tell.
Samuel nods in obvious agreement. “Indeed, some phrase that as it being more a philosophy than a religion, but six of one, half dozen of the other really. Though there are variants up and down the spectrum from purely philosophical to fairly dogmatic.” He grins. “It’s pretty malleable. And yes, I obviously different people find what appeals to them at different points in that spectrum.” He laughs warmly at the Flying Spaghetti Monster reference. “Indeed. Didn’t even the Pope recently say that intelligent design was not science? Smart man – he knows not to conflate science with religion.” He winks at the question about him investigating Sullivan. “Nope. I am not.” And certainly nothing in his pulse or scent indicates he’s lying. He chuckles at the last part of the answer. “Indeed. Well, Boston should have prepared you for the Chicago winters if nothing else.”
“It’s easier that way, I’m sure.” Patrick glances around quickly, “Between you and I, I happen to think Darwin was correct.” It just makes too much sense, no matter how deep-seated you are in religion. “Of course, I’m not saying that God didn’t have a hand in evolution.” But, on to easier subjects to discuss. “Well, I am glad that you aren’t investigating me as there isn’t too much to investigate. You would probably be bored fairly quickly.” And the winters? “The colder weather doesn’t bother me so much. But the winters here are rather different than in Boston. Wetter.”
Samuel can’t help but smile as Sullivan glances around before making his confession. “I’ve heard that’s not an uncommon point of view even amongst the Catholic clergy – and your secret is safe with me.” He mmms as moves a bit further down the row of shelves. “Indeed – unless you are Biblical literalist the two are not incompatible. God designed physics and kicked off the universe, something like that.” He chuckles at the other man. “People like to tell me that, but there’s always /something/ interesting about them, even if they don’t realize it.” He nods at the mystery he handed the father. “But that’s about as close as I come to taking my job home, as the saying goes. I tend to go back to what I studied in school for my diversions.” He chuckles and smiles. “I suppose it wouldn’t.” He nods. “I’ve never lived in Boston, just here and DC for a little while when I was in middle school. But I’ve friends from there and they have plenty of winter weather stories.”
“I suppose ‘interesting’ is in the eye of the beholder,” Patrick offers. “We moved to Boston when I was about to finish High School and I went to college and did my graduate studies there. Last winter here in Chicago wasn’t all that bad, but I heard that Washington DC can be mild. I think it was cold more than it snowed here…in Boston we tended to get much more snow.”
Samuel chuckles. “True enough – they were interesting to hear, but there weren’t many I would have cared to experience first hand, at least not for very long.” He nods as he pulls a book and looks over the back cover. “Yeah, DC has some kind of MPD about it’s status as a ‘northern’ city. Half the people seem to think it should have weather like Atlanta and the other half are convince they are perpectually getting under-snowed. Truthfully I hardly remember our time there, beyond some gross details like that.” He grins and asks, “Anyhow. Which of Boston’s eight gazillion institutions of higher education did you attend?”
“I’ve never been there…I suppose I should, just for history’s sake. After all, I am a citizen now…” or something like that. He got his green card while in college. But, to answer the other’s question, “Harvard and then Harvard Divinity. I wanted to stay close to home for a bit longer.”
“If you like museums,” Samuel responds, “and I suspect you do, then you’ll love DC. You can spend days in them there.” He nods and grins. “I can appreciate that – I went to college and grad school both here in Chicago. At Roosevelt University. Then I taught for a while at U of C.” He looks over to the register and at the several books he’s collected. “I should get going. I’ve a couple more errands to run and then I need to get ready for dinner with my girlfriend.” He fishes in a couple pockets and eventually produces a business card which he then offers to Sullivan. “But! I have to say I very much enjoy talking with you. If you ever care to talk some more over tea or coffe at the Secret Garden, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” He leans close and stage whispers, “Or if you need someone investigated.” He straightens and grins at the Irishman.
Patrick nods, “I do like museums and thank you for the recommendation. I’ll remember them should I ever get down that way.” When the card is offered, Patrick takes it and looks at it for a moment before tucking it into a pocket, “Thank you for this. I would offer equal services in return, but…that’s a little trickier. I’m more than happy to meet and talk some over tea at the Secret Garden. As for investigations…I’ll let you know. Have a good afternoon, Samuel.”
