The Oak Edition - A Short Story

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Behind panes of clean, gleaming glass, a neat row of bookshelves sat, drenched in the afternoon sun. On each shelf, tidy rows of books. Each had a thin layer of plastic to preserve the pages from decay and contamination.

Several samples sat on the counter, between two young women. The woman behind the counter wore a floral dress. Its swirling patterns interrupted by a name badge.

Natasha.

Natasha had a soft, round; bohemian face; and manicured hands. It was important to keep good hands in her line of work - people would not buy mishandled books. She had been in this industry for a long time, and was good at her craft.

Natasha spoke to other woman. A sharp featured, slim blonde, wearing a bronze turtleneck sweater.

"This one's a lovely read. We use the pulp of french oak to help deepen the sense of mystery and intrigue. The trees are felled in the winter; ensuring a soft; earthy aroma. This ensures that this coming of age tale remains connected to the land."

The blonde blinked beneath her glasses, a soft hand moving ever so slightly across the textured page of the demonstrator novel. As her lips parted, she exhaled. The paper was exquisite.

"Will it archive well?"

"Before final packaging, the typeface pigment stabilises under filtered light, through centennial glass."

The blonde was curious, and asked more; "What was the production volume?"

"For this edition, only two hundred were produced in french oak."

"And, of the other pulps?"

"Five editions, in total, each with two hundred copies. French Oak, Pine, Hemlock, Birch, or recycled. Our recycled, pine and birch are available via distributors. French Oak and Hemlock are available only from our studio."

Hemlock was the most sought after of the editions for tales of youth, and had the price-tag to match. The woman wasn't able to buy something like that, yet. The French Oak would have to do.

"I'll take one of the French Oaks," she said, considering her choice. It would prove a fine read in a few years, shared with friends in a moment of crisis.

"Excellent choice."

The transaction was completed in short order, and a copy of the book was packaged tightly, destined to sit in a high, dark place until such a time that it would be enjoyed, become contaminated and decay.

---

_{This story is a bit of a thought experiment, attempting to envision a world where novels are sold, marketed and treated with the same pretentiousness of wine-making.}

_{Initially, this came to me as an act of satire, but I thought I could weave a quick short story, taking it seriously, instead of satirically}

_{It has been a long time since I have written anything fictional; and in review, could probably do a better job of world building in this piece. A world about the preciousness of material, and people being enraptured by touch, texture, and the taste of physical things, in an almost hedonistic way.}

_{As Ernest Hemmingway said, "Write Drunk, Edit Sober."}

_{I'm one of those things right now. :)}

_{I hope you enjoyed this, and thanks for reading.}