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This short story was published in three parts across the weekly editions of The Scholarly Letter between 23 April and 7 May 2026.

“But surely
People make the worst friends
of all, refusing
to be decent—
So Books are my friends,
I embrace their words,
and lend my volumes
to no one

And when I am away
I often dream of Alexandria
or the Fascist bookburnings
and grow fearful,
having believed in the
story of the book that
was shot
and slowly bled
to death”

— from “Books” by William Baer (published 1980)

“If knowledge is a public good, does that make me a public servant?” Bartholomew said out loud to no one in particular.

He was sitting in a quiet café, holding a copy of a book, his book, in both hands. His laptop sat next to a bland, overpriced latte, now largely forgotten, growing cold on the table. It was only a few days ago that he had sat with Julius, his editor, in the conference room of Laurel Publishing, watching the Director of Marketing point to a bar chart and say:

“Pre-orders have been decent - not crazy good but good enough. What really makes me optimistic is the traction your book is getting online. The BookTok and Bookstagram creators who lean more towards intellectual or scholarly literature loved the pre-release copies we sent to them. We're expecting a good reception when it goes on sale tomorrow with approximately 5,000 units sold within the next three months, which is the magic number for this book to earn out its advance.”

Bartholomew had been elated. The advance had not been huge, but if his debut could earn out in the first quarter, then he could almost certainly secure a deal for another book. It had taken enormous amounts of discipline and sacrifice to finally arrive at this point. He had not, however, ben able to pay his bills with either of them. The prospect of royalties coming in only months after the publication of his first book was, quite frankly, more than he could have hoped for. A mere 72 hours later, those hopes lay in tatters.