I love books so much. I want to buy them until I feel sick and pass them out like pennies. I want to hold the physical books beloved by the dead. I want the fresh slice of being the first to separate a page. I love people who write books, who love books, who sell books. Like, I really love books.
Looking at it from that perspective it’s not much of a surprise that I would lose my mind seeing Paul Yamazaki on (in?) By the Book in the New York Times. And then rush to the library for a copy.
There are gems on almost every page. It’s what I imagine people feel when they take their first studio tour or behind the scenes something or other. Things I loved:
“Our goal when you walk in is to make sure that, right away, you see books you haven’t seen in other spaces and you see books you know, in a slightly disorienting way.”
“Each bookseller investigates their own subjectivities and their own responses to the texts while still understanding the context of the institution, how we arrived at this point.”
“My faith in the reader is profound.”
“City Lights believes very strongly that american culture and literature cannot be accurately represented if there is not deep BIPOC representation in the authors and subjects that are presented on the shelves of City Lights.” (I mean.)
And the one that really broke open my brain:
“If a book comes into your hands and you find yourself moved by it, ask: How did this find me?”
What he means is, as a bookseller, go up the chain. Who is the editor? Publisher? Agent? publicist? and so on.
When I read it what I got as a reader was, where did I first hear about this book? Who told me about it or recommended it. Mine is more, how did this book come into my life? And I love that. I love reaching back to the time (who knows how many years ago) that I first heard of Amy Hempel. It was in an interview Chuck Palahniuk did. I wrote down her name, like the names in the above picture. I bought her collected stories. I read them constantly, including while walking the dog and somehow never ran into anything. Since then that book has moved house 4 or 5 times, visited 15 states and 4 countries. It contains directions to an ex’s brooklyn rehearsal space, receipts, train tickets, boarding passes, phone numbers for people whose names I didn’t bother to record. And it all started with a name jotted on a scrap of paper that I wouldn’t otherwise have cause to think about.
Okay, to be honest, I do the other thing, too. I read every word of the acknowledgements, the page about the fonts that’s sometimes in the back, I note the publisher for future reference, I write it down if it’s particularly physically pleasing. (I’m still sad Ecco bought Black Sparrow Press and changed their covers and paper for the worst. BSP is the exception though because generally I want a compact, carry able, shorter and fatter, rather than longer and slim. Basically, I want my books to resemble me.
Reading this book and writing this newsletter has made me miss an old family friend who taught me that books are treasures to be loved, shared, and collected. (And you never gift a book without inscribing it first!) I wish I could write him to discuss.
Go buy a book.
I love your love of books.