Dear friends,
It’s not a stretch to see a connection between the books we have acquired this week—a collection of cerebral philosophy, art theory, and weirdo non-fiction—and a situation that’s been unfolding in the life of our son over the last few days. In short, our son is getting bullied. Bullied? That’s right. Point us at ‘em!
As parents, we try to balance our urge to intervene and our desire to foster independence in our crew of underage miscreants. This particular child of ours has been the subject of bullying before. In the past, when he was little and sweet, and trying to figure out the world through neurodivergent goggles made of warped glass, we took a more direct approach to dealing with bullies. After all, we were bullied—Jason with his blind eye, and Vanessa with her earnest proselytizing and ample buttocks. We’ve been there. In the end, there’s not much you can do about a grade school bully except push them into the snow and pummel them in front of a group of cheering fellow-plebians.
Books are the refuge of many an indoor kid. Can’t meet the physical prowess of Butch or Duke? Well, little Seymour, you can’t be stronger, but you can be smarter! You can aspire to one day be Butch’s superior, earning millions, and poignantly hire him to do menial work for you while you sit back and drink a cocktail. You can imagine yourself at your high school reunion, grown and spiffy, when you’ll discover that Butch turned out not-so-well. Boy, that would be a real satisfaction. In the meantime, read about evil villains and cheer your heroes as they have the immediate gratification of a victory you can only hope for. Read the histories of kings and knights, and politicos and spies. Read about women who seduced the enemy, only to stab them in a back alleyway. Take all of those unmet desires for revenge, and see them unfold in the pages of literature. Edmond Dantes forever!
The books we have for sale this week are books for the grown-up version of that kid in the school yard who hopes to conquer a bully through deft avoidance and the power of words. Perhaps Butch is easily confused, so you could try:
“You aren’t the dumbest person in the world, but you should hope he doesn’t die.”
Or, as Vanessa once said to Jason when he had an unfortunately large bit of acne on his nose:
“That’s just your body rejecting your shitty personality.”
Is there anything a kid can do to fend off a bully who is all swinging arms and desperate aggression? Of course, now, as adults, we can look back with sympathy on the Butch’s of the world and acknowledge that there was something rotten in the heart of Denmark. Surely, he learned that awful behaviour somewhere. The anger had a source.
We asked our son what he did to piss off Butch. Did he pick his nose in public? Did he fart at an inopportune moment? Did he catch the eye of Butch’s fair love? Nope. There seems to be no reason at all, and if the school principal has her say, we’ll advise him to be noble, true, and pacifistic, rely on the grown-ups to make the situation better, and try to use the bureaucracy of Ontario’s education system to find a resolution.
But we know better, don’t we, our fellow indoor kids? There’s only one way to stop a bully: you have to both outsmart him, and kick his ass.
As you peruse this week’s new arrivals, celebrate the indoor kid in you, and revel in the joy of being a grown-ass adult who doesn’t have to take that kind of shit from anybody anymore. There is one title that is particularly apropos (The Gentle Art of Making Enemies). And, if you are so inclined, feel free to email us with your best bully-buttkicking strategies to pass along to our adolescent boy so that he can rise triumphant to rule the playground.
Much love,
Jason and Vanessa
