Saban Sucks!

It’s my turn to pick books for the Octavia Science Fiction Reading Club. That means I have to pick three novels on a theme, and I have done so. My theme: “Identity Crisis 77” — science fiction novels dealing with issues of identity which were all written in 1977. My books:

1. The Ophiuchi Hotline by John Varley
2. Mind of My Mind by Octavia E. Butler
3. A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

And today we met to discuss the first of these books, as is our custom on the second Saturday morning of each month, at Octavia Books. I was somewhat hyped up — I even went so far as to compile a CD of some of my favorite music from 1977, with a bitchen cover graphic of the “Wow!” signal (which was detected in 1977) and an essay (published on my birthday, four years ago) about how we still don’t know what it means.

I had heard that Nick Saban, who was supposed to do a book signing at Octavia on Friday night, had rescheduled for Saturday morning. No problem, we’ve shared the store space with other events before.

Truth to tell, I had no idea who Nick Saban was before today. Turns out he’s some sort of football coach. And apparently he’s waaaaay more popular than science fiction.

So. I arrived this morning to find the store packed. There were so many people there, in fact, that there was really no room for us. We ended up having to relocate a few blocks away to the PJ’s coffee shop on Magazine Street. We sat outside, on the back patio.

Part of me is happy to live in a place where it is possible to sit outside somewhat comfortably in January. But another part of me is pissed off at Nick Saban for displacing me from my cozy bookstore milieu by a bunch of sports fans!