No, not me. But my friend Carolyn does. She reviewed Mary Otis’s Yes, Yes, Cherries for the LA Times this past Sunday. Very cool and a nicely written review too.
Author Archives: bookdwarf
This Could Mean the Apocalypse People
Beating the Dead Horse
I know I tend to go on and on about the importance of shopping locally, especially with regards to local book stores, but here’s an article in the San Francisco Chronicle about why it’s so important. Here are the important bits:
But the [San Francisco Locally Owned Merchant Alliance] is interested in more than a look at the retail world. It believes that nurturing this small-business backbone can bring more economic rewards than attracting an outside chain, which often hires fewer people and spreads less money around the city. Small business may be the best kind in many ways.
The city can often seem a war zone in the battle between big and little, with smaller retailers losing out. Storefront video stores, small pharmacies or one-screen movie houses are increasingly rare. Added costs hit small operators harder and low-price chains are tough competitors.
Yet the study found that San Francisco residents and visitors savor the city’s small-scale character. One example: local bookstores reap 55 percent of sales compared to 10 percent elsewhere in the country.
The study comes with a reasonable message. If San Francisco likes its local retailers, it should spend more at these favorite neighborhood stores and less with big operations.
Spending another 10 percent of your wallet at a sandwich shop, running-shoe store or florist could mean 1,295 more jobs and another $191 million in economic activity. Side businesses — lawyers, insurance companies, printers and ad firms — all benefit more with local businesses than chains operated from afar. The message is clear: It’s time to shop local.
This article in Bookselling This Week has more numbers about how much money spent locally stays in the local economy. The data really makes you stop and think.
What I Did on My Spring Vacation
Sorry for the silence folks. I returned quite late on Sunday night from San Francisco and this week is craziness at work. Did I mention that I got a promotion? I’m now the Head Buyer for the store.
I read a lot of books while I was away. I’m kicking myself for forgetting to bring Robert Bolano’s The Savage Detective. I started with a mystery called The Janissary Tree by Jason Goodwin. Set in the Ottoman Empire as the empire faces sweeping change, a series of murders threatens the Sultan’s power. He asks Investigator Yashim to investigate. Yashim has the ability to blend in anywhere. He also happens to be a eunuch. I found this book very entertaining on the plane, full of lyrical descriptions of Istanbul and a good plot.
I was smart enough to pack Katherine Weber’s Triangle about the infamous shirtwaist factory fire in 1911 for this trip. One of the last survivors of the fire, Esther Gottesfeld, has told the story of that day many times, but some of the details seem mysterious. Now as she is dying at the age of 106, her granddaughter begins to seek the real story. The point of view goes back and forth and we hear Esther’s story told over and over. Frankly, this book is brilliant, an exploration of story telling and the impact that historical events can have on everyone. (Also, it’s an LBC pick for the next round so get ready for some more commentary.)
Once I finished Triangle I had to go buy a book. Luckily I was in a town that still celebrates the book. I hoofed it over to City Lights and spent a long time browsing that wonderful store. I settled on Dana Spiotta’s Eat the Document because I remember Ed liking it and I figured I was in Ed’s town (well, not anymore, but still) and I should read something related. Plus parts of the story are set in the 70’s and the plot relates the story of two radicals protesting the war. When one of their revolutionary acts results in a death, the two must separate and go underground. Flash forward to 1998, where we follow teenager Jason coping with his non-existent life. There are several stories and it’s clear from the beginning which of the characters in the 90’s are the radicals. I didn’t enjoy the book at first, because I felt that this was all too obvious, but Spiotta really does an excellent job of drawing out the character development so I found myself engrossed after a while.
After that I went back to the store and grabbed Home Land by Sam Lipsyte. Mark really liked this one and I thought it was pretty funny too, though I read it too fast and had to go get another book. I picked up T.C. Boyle’s The Inner Circle at The Booksmith on Haight Street, another San Francisco landmark. Boyle writes about Kinsey and his studies on human sexuality in this one. It’s a fascinating portrait of both Prok and the men who worked for him. I felt dirty reading it in public, but I found completely riveting.
Now I’m finally going to start the Bolano. And after that we’ll see.
Identity Crisis or Musings on What I am Doing Here
Maybe there was not so much a smackdown in this LA Times article on the recent brouhaha between traditional media and the litbloggers. It’s about the side argument that got started when the NBCC started a campaign to save the book review pages. Several critics made statements that made litbloggers seem like piddling book entertainment. The litbloggers got angry, understandably. This article seems to be trying to calm things down and make the book review editors feel like their sections still matter, while also validating the work of the litbloggers. I see us at somewhat of an impasse. The mainstream media claim that blogs lack true criticism, but where is the true criticism in the New York Times Book Review each week? Are reviews really criticism? I’m really asking the question here. What is it that the papers do that we don’t? My reviews are brief for the most part and probably fall short of being literary criticism, but is it better that I discuss books here that won’t get mentioned in the mainstream media? What do they want us to do?
Taking this English class has made me think about the importance of literary criticism more and more. Cynthia Ozick’s cranky essay ‘Literary Entrails‘ in April’s Harper’s about today’s lack of true literary critics also sparked some thoughts in my brain. Questions like ‘what does my site provide readers’ have been zinging around my brain ever since I read that essay. Am I providing anything of value? I don’t consider myself a “critic”. I am a professional book buyer though and probably see more books each day than most people do in a month. Does that help? If I had an English degree would that lend more legitimacy to what I write on this blog? I’m mostly musing here, sharing some of the thoughts I’ve been having recently. I liked Callie’s response to the article as well. She offers that the litblogs can do things that the newspapers can’t, offer MP3s, podcasts, cover author readings, etc. All of these things are important and open up a broader dialogue about books, something truly important in this day.
Perhaps you’ll read this and wonder how I segued from the bloggers vs. mainstream media topic to the value of this particular site. All of this controversy has been making me think, that’s all, about my role in it, if any. So thanks for listening.
On Writing
From a moving address David Grossman gave at the PEN’s World Voices Festival:
And I write also about that which cannot be brought back. And about that which is inconsolable. Then, too, in a manner I still find inexplicable, the circumstances of my life do not close in on me in a way that would leave me paralyzed. Many times every day, as I sit at my desk, I touch on grief and loss like one touching electricity with his bare hands, and yet I do not die. I cannot grasp how this miracle works. Maybe once I finish writing this novel, I will try to understand. Not now. It is too early.
Books for the Plane
I’m off to San Francisco on Wednesday morning to visit my sister for a few days. What shall I bring to read? My idea of hell is being stuck on some sort of transit with absolutely nothing to read. I’m serious. I always have a book on me. This is something my friends tease me about, but I’ll never stop doing it. I find there are always a few minutes each day in between things—riding the train to work, waiting at the doctors office, sitting outside for a few minutes while getting coffee—when a book comes in handy.
I’ve already started compiling a list of possibilities: The Savage Detectives by Robert Bolano, Life and Fate by Vassily Grossman, The Yiddish Policeman’s Union by Michael Chabon, The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs, Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, The Broken Estate by James Wood. That’s what I have so far. Am I missing something obvious? Any suggestions?
Reader of Depressing Books
Time Out New York (or TONY as they call themselves wittily) has an interview with Tao Lin, whose books Eeeee Eee Eeee and Bed just arrived on my desk. He also blogs at Reader of Depressing Books. He seems like an interesting person. Has anyone read either of his books yet?
Elizabeth Hand Interview
Author and Bookslut correspondent Jeff Vandermeer interviewed Elizabeth Hand, author of Generation Loss for the latest issue of Bookslut. I found it fascinating, especially this part:
I had a hard time creating Cass — she’s me if my brake lines had been cut when I was in my early 20s. I hated being in her mind, because it was like channeling the worst possible version of myself. A lot of her early experiences were mine — at 21, I was not a good role model.
Still, there was something deeply cathartic about just giving that character her head and letting her run with it. I have friends who are still a lot more like Cass than I am, and, I have to confess, I have some admiration for a certain kind of recklessness and hunger for experience that I’m far too cautious to indulge in now, except through my writing.
I loved and hated Cass. She’s that person you know who has what you think is a good heart, but a fucked up personality. Every now and then though you question their heart after they do something really questionable. I think a lot of people feel this way about themselves too, wishing they could take more chances, but not having the balls. That’s one of things I loved about this book, was loving and hating Cass.
On a side note, Elizabeth Hand will be reading at my store on May 23rd.
It’s Hard to Post on a Friday Afternoon When the Sun is Shining Outside
Spring fever. I’ve got it, yes. I finished a lovely book at lunch today written by Aiobheann Sweeney called Among Other Things I’ve Taken Up Smoking. It’s quiet but she sort of pulls you into the story. Miranda has always lived on a small island off the coast of Maine with her scholar father. Her parents moved there from New York City when she was only three and soon after they arrived, her mother disappeared into the fog. Miranda lives a lonely existence on the island taking care of her quiet and withdrawn father, yet she doesn’t yearn for a different life necessarily. Her father arranges for her to go to New York for a few weeks and help some friends from his old life. In New York, Miranda learns more about her father and about herself. It’s a really nice coming of age tale with lovely moments about loneliness and figuring out how to be a real person.
Bookdwarf 