Back when I used to work in a bookshop, there was a man who came in every day, sometimes several times in one day. He was in early middle age, and suffered from a rare degenerative brain disorder that meant that he would do - could only do - the same things over and over. So first he would pick up a copy of Atomised by Michel Houellebecq and ask the nearest female employee if that was her on the cover. As the cover featured a girl wearing only a pair of white knickers, this was irritating. Then he would ask whether we had a mythology section (we didn’t) and whether we had a copy of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero With A Thousand Faces. If the book was in, he would stand reading it for a while (or pretending to read, I’m not sure whether he was still capable of reading) and then he wouldn’t buy it, seeming to know on some level that he didn’t need it (indeed probably already had it.) On the way out, he would stop at the hardbacks display and ask if we had “the new one” by Alan Bennett. If there happened to be a new Alan Bennett, he would ask us to hold it for him. And if we weren't busy we would try to get him talking about Alan Bennett, about whom he had relatively plenty to say. He was an admirer of his, and they had gone to the same school (though not at the same time), and he bore a resemblance to him: similar build, Yorkshire accent, sandy hair. He would ask us if we had any sweets, and we would offer him a satsuma or banana - whatever fruit we had to hand - until he began asking for fruit instead, and it became part of his routine. So it seemed he was capable of learning new things, but only with great difficulty.
The Doctor With A Thousand Faces
The Doctor With A Thousand Faces
The Doctor With A Thousand Faces
Back when I used to work in a bookshop, there was a man who came in every day, sometimes several times in one day. He was in early middle age, and suffered from a rare degenerative brain disorder that meant that he would do - could only do - the same things over and over. So first he would pick up a copy of Atomised by Michel Houellebecq and ask the nearest female employee if that was her on the cover. As the cover featured a girl wearing only a pair of white knickers, this was irritating. Then he would ask whether we had a mythology section (we didn’t) and whether we had a copy of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero With A Thousand Faces. If the book was in, he would stand reading it for a while (or pretending to read, I’m not sure whether he was still capable of reading) and then he wouldn’t buy it, seeming to know on some level that he didn’t need it (indeed probably already had it.) On the way out, he would stop at the hardbacks display and ask if we had “the new one” by Alan Bennett. If there happened to be a new Alan Bennett, he would ask us to hold it for him. And if we weren't busy we would try to get him talking about Alan Bennett, about whom he had relatively plenty to say. He was an admirer of his, and they had gone to the same school (though not at the same time), and he bore a resemblance to him: similar build, Yorkshire accent, sandy hair. He would ask us if we had any sweets, and we would offer him a satsuma or banana - whatever fruit we had to hand - until he began asking for fruit instead, and it became part of his routine. So it seemed he was capable of learning new things, but only with great difficulty.