Books We'll Never Carry: The Sacred Book of the Werewolf

We at the store have nothing against sex. Not even The Man. An old incarnation of the shop even had it's own Erotica section. I don't know when this was, but I'm betting it had beads instead of a door. Anyhow...

This is the new book by Victor Pelevin, he of the postmodern Russian allegory. It's like original Russian allegory, but has less to do with Lenin and more to do with memories of Lenin. (OK, it's actually good writing, and I refuse to lie about that in this world of so much not-good writing.)

The book is kind of about sex - prostitutes figure heavily - but I repeat that it isn't the obvious sexuality of the cover that will keep us from stocking it. I won't rule out that the woman's tail will play a role. It's certainly two different things to imply sex with a woman than to imply sex with a fox-woman (technically, she's a werefox, as Pelevin explains).

Really, though, we just don't carry orange books. I'm sitting here, looking around the store, and I only see two orange books anywhere. TWO. That's like .01% of our store. I don't purport to know what The Man has against orange, but the disdain is clear. I, for one, won't stand for it. Which is why I sit down to write the blog.

[Photo borrowed from BookCoversAnonymous. We link to them; over there->]