“I really don’t have a minute to spare. I have my TV and radio appearances to prepare for, and so many lectures and articles to write. I do manage to squeeze out some time to cast my eyes over these books—my collection comes from all over the world. But I don’t have time to deal with raving lunatics.”
He sighed deeply, making a show of looking at his wristwatch.
“I’ve already wasted two precious minutes listening to you. If you’ve finished, I’d like you to leave now.”
But the cat wasn’t going to give up that easily.
“We’re not done talking.”
“I already told you to leave.” The man glared at the tenacious tabby. “I’ve only read sixty-five of my hundred-book quota so far. Get out.”
“A hundred books?” Rintaro couldn’t help but ask. “You read a hundred books a year?”
“Not a year,” the man replied, theatrically turning the next page in his book.
“A month,” he continued, with great pomposity. “And that is why I’m so busy. I welcomed you, thinking you were bringing me news that might be to my benefit, but clearly, I was mistaken. If you continue to waste my time, I will have you thrown out. Of course, once you leave this room, I have no idea whether the two of you will ever be able to find your way out again, but that’s no concern of mine.”
His tone was icy. In the abrupt silence that followed, the only sound was the rustle of pages turning. The tabby cat glared at him aggressively, but the man was completely unperturbed. It was as if he’d completely forgotten his visitors’ existence.
There was nothing more to be said. Rintaro was looking around helplessly when his gaze fell on one of the display cases. The man’s collection really was varied, or perhaps, simply random; the shelves were filled not only with regular books, but also magazines, maps, dictionaries. Nothing was arranged in any sequence, or relating to any particular field.
Natsuki Books also had a remarkable collection, but Rintaro’s grandpa had always had some kind of system to his shelf arrangement. In contrast, despite its impressive appearance, the man’s collection was, in fact, total chaos.
Rintaro took a deep breath.
“Have you read all of Nietzsche?”
He was looking at the bookcase right behind the man. All of Nietzsche’s works, including the famous Thus Spoke Zarathustra, along with collections of his letters, were lined up inside the glass case.
“I like Nietzsche, too,” he added.
“There are people all over the world who claim to like Nietzsche,” replied the man, without lifting his head from his book. “However, there are very few people who say this after having read all his work. They’ve seen the odd quotation or some watered-down, abridged version. They try Nietzsche on for size like some fashionable overcoat. Are you one of those, too?”
Rintaro was quick to respond.
“‘Scholars who at bottom do little nowadays but thumb books . . . ultimately lose entirely their capacity to think for themselves. When they don’t thumb, they don’t think.’”
The man slowly lifted his head from his book.
“Nietzsche really was a straight talker,” continued Rintaro, hastily. “That’s why I like him.”
Without moving a muscle, the man sat and observed his rather timid conversation partner. His eyes were filled with contempt, but somewhere deep inside was a faint glimmer of interest. Finally, he closed his book.
“All right. I may be able to spare you a little of my time.”
The glacial atmosphere thawed a little. The cat looked at Rintaro with a good measure of surprise, but Rintaro had no time right now for his feline friend. Under the pressure of the man’s expression, he had to fight the instinct to run. He raised his voice.