Month: August 2012

Is There a Bumper Sticker–I Brake For Books?

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Most of our recent road trip stash.

If not, there should be. On our road trips, we happen across books in all sorts of out of the way places-without planning to find a bookshop, or used bookstore. When we pass by a sign that declares–used books, we  brake, as safely as possible, and turn right around if necessary. Sometimes we are horribly disappointed–the shop is closed. Little garage stores, or hole in the walls don’t have regular hours, and even if they do, our cruising along the road can be from 6 a.m. to midnight–we  are oblivious to time. Once in leaving The Road Kill Cafe, on the way to The Pencil Sharpener Museum, we rounded a curve and there was a white outbuilding with a nice sign. We stopped, it looked deserted, but we tried the door

One buck each at small collectibles store in KY

anyway. And we saw books–rows and rows of lovely printed things. A middle aged gentleman joined us, we chatted, and found some wonderful tomes to add to our collection, as well as for fun and reading. We were just in time, he would have closed and locked the door if we’d been any later. His place was more of a storage area, less of a shop, but weaving through white washed church filled roads in New England, a small tasteful sign designated that within this private home, there was also an antiquarian bookman. Sometimes private homes make me nervous, the feeling is too personal and I’m afraid not to buy something, for fear of offending the homeowner. That of course, is completely silly, but it’s my hang-up. My husband has no such trepidation, and sallies forth, eagerly assessing the shelves of neatly alphabetized titles within. We had a terrific time. Half the pleasure of road trips are meeting fascinating individuals along the way. Booksellers without exception, fall into that category.

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The Book That Can’t Wait

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by Jas Faulkner 

Anyone with a tall “to be read” stack will get chills at the thought of  “El Libro que No Puede Esperar”  (translation: “The Book That Can’t Wait”).  Eterna Cadencia, a publisher and bookseller in Argentina, has reportedly published a collection of stories by up and coming Latin American writers featuring a gimmick that garnered the imprint a lot of attention outside of its usual market. In the interest of creating a sense of urgency that these authors should be read, and read soon, a promotional video reports they have printed the books using an ink that begins to degrade as soon as the book is exposed to air and  light.  Break the seal and you have two months to read the book. The fading process starts immediately.

The promotional video about the book that has gone viral (en Inglés, gracias a Dios!). Mainstream outlets such as Wired and Huffington Post have already reported the story as gospel.

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Holy Crap! Another Book That Could Be On My List

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This is the very reason it took me so long to create the Best 100 Mysteries of All Time list. I keep reading. If I keep reading, especially vintage crime fiction, I’m bound to hit a couple of  ‘holy crap!’ books along the way. A ‘holy crap’ is one where at the end I yell, holy crap!  More likely in language a bit more salty. I finished a ‘holy crap!’ book about one hour ago, and felt I needed to express my frustration at not being able to add, switch, change, or somehow acknowledge the book in that list.

But the very fact that so many books are that good, should make me happy. And it does, while reading. However, my thinking tank starts placing it before one book, or after another, knocking something off, but then I think, ‘no, that book was really fascinating, book B should go, and so on.’ And the list would never be finished. I had to end that kind of thinking, and set the list, without room for more reads down the line.

The Chill, Ross MacDonald, 1963 shouldn’t have been that good. I’ve read Kenneth Millar before. Millar as Ross MacDonald has been praised as the next thing to Hammett and Chandler in PI stories. But I’ve not found him that compelling. Good, not great. I think his wife, Margaret Millar is a far superior writer, who although acknowledged by the mystery community, hasn’t the place in history her husband enjoys. They both came from a little Canadian town, married and moved to Southern California, where most of their books are set. His is the straight forward detective tale, hers are more psychological and character driven.  Her stories are haunting, and not easily forgotten. Or they can be funny as hell.

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A Simple Model for Pricing Paperbacks

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I am finally home after 10 days on the road. My trip was mostly devoted to burying my father, but I did find time to visit several bookstores in Massachusetts, a state lush with them. One store in Danvers was a discouragement; it had more 10,000 square feet and 100,000 books, including nearly everything you could think of. It made my 1,220 square feet seem awfully meager. But then I visited a tiny store in Arlington which was warm, inviting and full of promise. I wish I had more time to browse, but I did note that there were three people working, which I took as a very encouraging sign.

I am now sitting in my store surrounded by empty shelves and over-stuffed boxes, and the conspicuous silence of solitary work. I have to price many thousands of books, and no one can do that but me. I can farm out the sorting, the carrying, the cleaning, the sign painting, the shelf building and the logo designing; the pricing belongs to me.

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The Thin Man. Best 100 Mysteries of All Time

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The ‘thin man’ on the cover is Dashiell Hammett himself, looking just as dapper as his character played in film by William Powell.

The Thin Man—Dashiell Hammett-1933-IP

Some may say, well, hell, this books is a given, of course it belongs on the list. But are they thinking of the written word, or the iconic film starring William Powell and Myrna Loy? Is there a huge difference between the two? I’d say, no, not a huge difference, but differences there are. It’s hard to look at title such as this one and imagine how a reader would see it sans  the imitators and film adaptations. Hammett’s imagination brought forth the sparkling upper class couple whose life seems full of drink, parties, and more drink. Written from Nick Charles’ point of view, the sentences are crisp, quick and easy going. The plot starts out within the first paragraph as a young lady approaches Charles at a NY hotel bar, while he’s waiting for his rich wife Nora, to return from shopping. The ‘thin’ man of the title is not Nick Charles, as many have believed, but the victim, or one of them. The young lady’s father is missing, his secretary  and lover is found dead, and Nick insists he’s not been a detective since his wife’s father died and all those millions needed looking after.

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Shadow of a Lady. Best 100 Mysteries Of All Time

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Shadow of a Lady—Holly Roth–1957-OOP

I admit I just finished reading this yesterday. Actually I started it the night before, and finished it the following morning. The story wasn’t earth shattering. It wasn’t heart pounding suspenseful. It was intriguing, disturbing, and overall, surprising. I can’t remember reading anything of Ms. Roth before this title. Her output was limited, but the books she wrote were well received. Interesting point–the plot of one of her novels  involves a drowning death off a boat, which is how she ultimately died–with her body never recovered. Hmm. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

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Adventures in the Life of a Bookseller

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“Life is what happens when you’re busy planning on doing something else” , or so I have heard. Today seemed to prove the veracity of this statement to me.

I know it’s not just because I am a book seller and am around books all the time, but I have always enjoyed reading books of “famous quotations” . I would often rather read a book of famous quotations than read the latest New York Times best seller.

At any rate – life arises.

Sometimes as book sellers we have no idea of the effect our actions as booksellers have on the world at large. Causality and synchronicity have played a great part in my life as a Johnny Come Lately to the world of book selling.

I was going to make this post mostly about a poem that just floated into my head like a warm summer breeze and expound on my love of poetry, but reality got in the way.

I will give the poem it’s due!

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The 30,000

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 by Jas Faulkner  

In those odd moments when there can be plenty to do and yet the mind wants to wander through Binkley’s anxiety closet,  it is easy to come up with hypothetical catastrophes that put us through a Green Beret-level obstacle course.  We see the thin veneer of civilisation stripped away as a mob mentality nudges thousands of people off the side of a cliff in a carb-fueled rage, all neatly battered, fried, and served on a biscuit with a side of fear and loathing of The Other.

Those of us who are caretakers of libraries, whether they’re large public archives of wisdom passed down through the centuries or linen closets that have been converted into repositories of books we have known and loved; we have all wondered what we would do if we only had a small, undisclosed time to save what we could.  What would we grab first?  Who could we trust to protect what we hold dear?  As a bit of woolgathering, it’s scary but there is the comfort that, at least for now, the chances of seeing our libraries destroyed is  fairly remote.

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