Today, in the office, a co-worker approached me and asked if I could lend him a book of poems. Now, I work in a bank and the odds of people who earn a living as "financial consultants" going to each other for literature-related (and i'm not referring to the Shopaholic series) matters are a hundred to one.
Anyway, so I asked him what kind it was he wanted and he asked if I had a Tennyson book. "Oh, so you like the Romantic poets?" He said he didn't think Tennyson was at all romantic and so I had to give a brief speech on how I was referring to the era and not the adjective. It warmed my heart, though, to see this young man so interested in poetry. I told him I didn't own any Tennyson but that I could lend him a Rilke volume; gave some unsolicited advice (it was probably the English Major in me), too, that he ought to try reading Filipino poetry in English. He said he just might and thanked me profusely for my willingness to lend him my Rilke.
As he was turning away, I couldn't resist asking, "J--, do you read Dan Brown?"
He said, "nope, and don't have plans to."
I gave him a grin and a nod of approval.
Good boy.
Now let me remember to bring him that Rilke volume.
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