M.

McGinnis, Joe.

McMurtry, Larry.

MacCarthy, Cormac.

MacDonald, Ross.

He was scanning the shelves of used paperbacks, resisiting the impulse to pull the hem of his Dodgers jersey over his nose; the smell from the musty books was that bad.

M.

Mailer, Norman.

He knew who that was. A New York type of writer who used to be on the late night talk shows a lot. Dead now. Doesn’t matter. And then, right there next to an absolutely beat-to-shit paperback issue of some Norman Mailer book — a big goddamn book too, Zeke noticed, big enough to use as a weapon in a robbery, “Give me all your money or I’ll make you read this book!” — was the one he was looking for.

“Movie tie-in edition,” he read aloud from the back cover as he held the small, scruffy paperback in his calloused hands.

He carried the book to the cash register. The book was old and smelled of germs. The bacteria of other people.

“Bernard Malamud.” The clerk smiled. She was a pretty redhead, thin-boned, pale complexion. In a previous life Zeke might have advanced the conversation to a Happy Hour drink or two at that little Tiki Lounge around the corner when she got off work but today he only had one goal in life, one little act of “monomania”, as his old shrink used to call it, to fulfill.

“Are you a fan of Malamud?” the clerk persisted.

“I … I like the movie,” Zeke stammered, feeling like he was about to soil his slacks. “Just saw it the other day. Turner Classic Movies. I, ummm, I really, you know, well, sorta, relate to Roy Hobbs. I mean, I never had a hand-carved bat called Wonder Boy or anything like that –” And then, quickly: “Have you read it? Is Wonder Boy in the book? Cuz you know how sometimes they add things when they make a movie from a book and vice versa. I like Wonder Boy.”

The clerk’s face went rigid. She rang up the sale, slipped the paperback into a bag emblazoned with the store emblem, and took his outstretched five dollar bill, handing him back $3.50 in change.

“Well, enjoy.” She forced a smile.

He started for the door, then looked back at her, confused. “Wonder Boy? I mean, you didn’t say –”

“I never read the book,” she said evenly.