"A room without books is like a body without a soul.”–Cicero

We agree. However, we have heard about folks who view books as "clutter." If you have the misfortune to live with someone like this and they are not swayed by the Cicero quote, perhaps you can repurpose your paperbacks. Artist David Karoff has this chair on display at Myopic Books in Providence, RI. It is made of recyled mass market paperbacks, drilled through and placed on a rebar frame. And it is probably not so comfy.

But then again, perhaps you can make a case for book shopping as a Magical Mystery Hunt of sorts. All of these treasures and oddments have been found in used books: "thousands of dollars, a Christmas card signed by Frank Baum, a Mickey Mantle rookie baseball card, a marriage certificate from 1879, a baby’s tooth, a diamond ring and a handwritten poem by Irish writer Katharine Tynan Hickson." Read more.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way— in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.” –Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities

There are some quotes that are always worth revisiting. Years ago customers and staff helped us choose quotes for a selection of bookmarks. But is there a literary quote you feel strongly enough about to have tattooed? Share your favorite quotes with us, maybe it is time to do the bookmarks again.

As a bookseller, one whose house is overflowing with books both read and (mostly) unread, I know I should stop acquiring even more reading material. Indeed, I sometimes wonder if I should radically downsize my collection. I read somewhere years ago (can’t remember where) that there are two kinds of personal libraries: those that show where one has been, and those that show where one aspires to go. I definitely fall into the latter category.

I have done a rough calculation, and figured at my current reading rate there is no way I will read all the books I have filled my house with over the years. I admit this gives me pause when I bring home another four coals to Newcastle. But recently I plucked one off the shelf–Cloudstreet, by Tim Winton. It had been sitting there, staring at me, for something like 17 years (the publicist’s letter still tucked inside). I packed it in my suitcase with other books for a recent vacation. And when I read it–wow, what a book. It was an amazing reading experience, one of my favorite books of the past few years. How can I get rid of my books now? Who knows what other gems are waiting to be discovered?

A university is a place where people pay high prices for goods which they then proceed to leave on the counter when they go out of the store.–Loren Eiseley

Our store is located a block or so from the campus of the University of Maryland, so we get quite a few students and academic types passing through. 

Despair:
Students overheard while buying books for classes: "Didn’t they make a movie of that (Toni Morrison’s Beloved)? Yeah, they did–I don’t need that one."

"Six books? Man, this is so not what I signed up for." 

"I can’t even remember the last time I read a book."

"I’m not going to read them–I just need the professor to see me in class with them."

"It smells like books in here." 

 My eldest daughter is off to college next year, and one of the panelists interviewing her for a scholarship had this comment on reading: "I just don’t have the concentration to read an entire book. Sports Illustrated and Cosmo are all I can handle."

Hope: 
The student who had to read Samuel Beckett (Nohow On) for a class and loved it so much he’s been back to buy two more copies to give as gifts. (I hope his friends appreciated it.)

The student who asked me for Tolstoy, Dickens, Pynchon and Philip Roth. When I asked if they were for a class (curious as to what class would be reading such a wide variety of books), he replied, "No, they’re just to read."

A group of parents who got together and decided that instead of giving the kids coming to their children’s birthday parties more useless knick knacks in a goody bag, they’d give them each a book. 

"It smells like books in here."

 Hmm. . .Despair currently outnumbers Hope 6 to 4.

"Books are the carriers of tradition and the seeds of change; a source of solitary enjoyment and communal celebration; beautiful physical objects and abstract spaces for language and thought; work and pleasure; desirable and burdensome; always doomed and always thriving; cheap thrills and pricey enlightenment; worth talking about, worth fighting for, worth loving, worth sharing, worth making a life about."–Jessica Stockton of McNally Robinson Booksellers, NY

We could not have said it better. Our only addition to the quote above might be bookstores as a center for a community of readers. Yesterday’s Washington Post’s Weekend section highlighted Vertigo and other indies, saying "If you’re longing for a cozy place where folks really share your zeal for books, step out of the big-box stores and away from the Internet."

"When I am attacked by gloomy thoughts, nothing helps me so much as running to my books. They quickly absorb me and banish the clouds from my mind. . .They are the best provisions I have found for this human journey. And I am sorry indeed for the man of understanding who is deprived of them." –Michel de Montaigne, The Autobiography

Every once in awhile someone asks, "What kind of a bookstore is this?" I hate that question because whatever response you make, you’re destined to be pigeon-holed. But let me make an attempt here, for it’s actually a question I ask myself every day, multiple times a day, whether consciously or not.

First and foremost, we’re an independent bookstore. What does that mean? It means when you look at our shelves, you’re seeing a selection of books picked by us, not by some numbers-crunching corporate honcho in Piscataway, New Jersey. The books that we feature at the front of the store are on display not because a publisher paid us to put them there, but for (primarily) two reasons: One, we think our customers will be interested in them; Two, we think our customers should be interested in them. I freely admit to a degree of cultural imperialism here; maybe cultural evangelism is a better term. You will always find Anton Chekhov on our shelves. Ditto the fiction of Stephen Millhauser and the poetry of Frank O’Hara. Dan Brown’s Davinci Code, on the other hand, will disappear once people stop buying him. Ann Coulter? Don’t even bother looking.

So it’s a balancing act, really. This is a business, and we have to pay the rent. I got into bookselling straight out of grad school because I was passionate about books. I was one of those folks who, when applying for my first bookstore job, told the owner that "I always wanted to work in a bookstore"–he went ahead and hired me anyway. And I loved it, right from the start. I loved unpacking the boxes as they arrived (every day’s Christmas at the bookstore), loved shelving (and displaying a bit more prominently those books I personally enjoyed), even loved being a cashier, by god. It’s the first job I had where I didn’t watch the clock. (more…)

There has been a discussion going on lately on a local listserve regarding what it would take for people to shop more often at independent bookstores. Among the suggestions: coffee (of course), wi-fi and workspace to use it in, show movies, sell ice cream, have musical groups perform. Perhaps I’m turning into a crank, but I didn’t get into bookselling to do any of those things. If you’ve got to have a grande skinny chai latte there’s a Gotbucks Coffee right next door–we’ll even let you walk around the store sipping it as long as you promise not to spill.  Ice cream? Just a few doors down. Personally, I wouldn’t mind having a brewpub in the back of the store, but that’s not really feasible.

There were a few book related suggestions made: magazines, childrens’ storytimes and author readings. We used to have a magazine section, and when we moved to College Park seven years ago we actually expanded it. Folks seemed to really enjoy coming in and browsing the section; unfortunately, that didn’t translate into actual sales. Magazines are a low margin, labor intensive item to carry, and it became economically impossible to continue with them. We tried storytimes, also. While we had a decent turnout at first, over time it dwindled from ten, to five, to two or three kids. We, and our volunteer storyteller, decided it was no longer worth the time or effort.

As far as author events go: Everyone loves the idea. We had an extensive event schedule at one time, with upwards of five authors a week appearing at the store. When we first moved to College Park we were excited by the possibilities of expanding our programming with the University of Maryland campus right next door. We reached out to various departments, cosponsored events, distributed hundreds of fliers. The turnouts were, shall we say, minimal. As were the audiences for our usual authors, excepting established writers like Edwidge Danticat and Julia Alvarez, or celebrities such as Maya Angelou and Patti Labelle. Small audiences are embarrassing–to us, to the author, and to the publisher who spent the money on the tour. Once you stop getting crowds for the smaller authors, it becomes next to impossible to convince publishers to send those big names your way.

So, what are we left with? Books. Lots and lots of books. And you know what? That’s not a bad thing.  It’s why we got into this business in the first place.

September 5th was the 50th anniversary of the publication of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. I read Kerouac’s road novel for the first time under near-perfect conditions: I was on a London study abroad program in college, on a semester break, and hitchiking around southern England. I still remember lying in my bunk at a youth hostel, reading my Penguin paperback after an evening at the pub in a small village on the Isle of Wight. I suppose I should have been hitchiking across the U.S. instead of England while I read it, but close enough. 

The anniversary got me thinking about books that we read and then reread. I was around 20 years old when I read On the Road and now, almost 30 years later, I would be afraid to reread it.  Certain books just seem meant to be read at certain times. Other books on my personal "fear to reread" list are Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, and The Favorite Game by Leonard Cohen. A book like Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, on the other hand, can be reread year in and year out. You take different things away from reading it as you get older–maybe that just means it’s a deeper, richer book.

Hold Tuesday, July 17 for a fundraiser at Franklin’s.
Jen of Vertigo fame is going to race autorickshaws across India in the Indian Auto Rickshaw Challenge, the endurance race for the clinically insane.  Jen plied her good friend Raj Solanki with alcohol and Raj signed up for the adventure as well. They are the RickshawGrrlz and will travel 1200 miles in an autorickshaw. And as a team they will be assigned a village to bring medical and educational supplies to. There is no official non-profit; Jen and Raj will purchase supplies in India so that they don’t have to spend the money on shipping stuff there. All the money will go directly to purchasing supplies. More in the City Paper.

The fundraising day at Franklin’s is Tuesday, July 17.  Because it sounds better than "Jen and Raj’s Excellent Indian Adventure," please mention to your server that you are there for the "Indian Relief Fund."  It is very important that you go up to the person taking money, hand them your receipt and say "I’m here for the Indian Relief Fund." Otherwise you will have a fine meal, and great beer, but no money will go to India. Update: T-shirts coming soon! Graphic by Jen’s best-brother-ever, graphic artist Dave Cook.