The Song of the City

In the mid '90s, Alba started getting calls from people who had a pronunciation problem. /

"Is this...Biblio...um...Biblio...die...sigh...uh?"

/ She enjoyed hearing the attempts. Her father's book business, Bibliodisia, was actually pronounced Biblio-DEE-zhee-uh. "It's a whole books and sex thing," she'd explain. "No, no, not books ABOUT sex. Books so awesome you want them like sex. Biblio plus aphrodisia equals Bibliodisia -- get it?" / Some did, some didn't.

/ Either way, her dad built a musty little empire with a sexy, funny, brilliant, and hard-to-pronounce name that boasted membership in the Midwest Antiquarian Booksellers Association (MWABA) and exhibited at Chicago book fairs such as the famed Printer's Row. / The way he puts it:

"OUR STOCK IS VARIED AND OF HIGH QUALITY, COMPRISED MAINLY OF HARDCOVER FIRST EDITIONS IN THE BEST AVAILABLE CONDITION FOR THEIR AGE. OUR PRICES VARY AND ARE CONSISTENTLY LOWER THAN WHAT YOU SEE ELSEWHERE, AND WE ARE HAPPY TO CONSIDER REASONABLE OFFERS FOR OUR HIGHER-PRICED BOOKS." (He's hard-of-hearing. Also, Cuban. Alba is Cuban too so she can make that joke.)

/ When he says "our" he means himself, his wife, and his two daughters. It has grown more and more into a family business every year, and now he's nearly ready to hand the reins over to one of his daughters. (Don't worry, the other one's a school teacher.) On Biblio, Alba manages Bibliodisia's inventory and sales under the considerably less sexy, funny, brilliant and hard-to-pronounce business name of Alba's Books.

/ And so another bookseller gets her wings. / The logo's a skyline bookshelf 'cause she's so the big city girl.