Seven Pillars of Bookstore Customers
Written byPosted on March 31, 2005
Filed Under Bookstores
The Book Geek: S/he can be counted upon to buy something obscure or with literary underground streetcred (like say Steve Erickson or Kathy Acker) and will spend at least 20 minutes displaying her knowledge in front of a clerk or whoever else will listen. Unfortunately, it’s the clerks who are often the victims, as they have to stand for 8+ hours listening to this. (Variation: The Laconic Book Geek, who is a terrible eavesdropper, often nervous, and will sometimes bail a New Literate/Book Geek out at the last minute. Bookstore clerks who hope to avoid needless conversation with Book Geeks are advised to have a Laconic Book Geek on staff.)
The Former Bookstore Clerk: Unable to find a new job or perhaps wafting in the nostalgia of younger and more idealistic days of starvation, the Former Bookstore Clerk is more concerned with a bookstore’s decor and staff, than the books in question. Former Bookstore Clerks often end up owning their own used bookstores, for lack of a better purpose in life, sometimes harassing other customers just because they can.
The Macker: A thirtysomething (or older) who spends evenings and weekends ogling over the opposite (or same) sex. Not necessarily bad-looking, but definitely missed out on a lot of good fucking during their twenties, perhaps because they spent too much time intellectualizing sex and relationships. Trying to make up for lost time. Has perfected art of pretend reading, which affords opportunities to check out interesting anatomy by peering over hardcover spines. Often equipped with basic knowledge of liberal arts to spawn conversation.
The New Literate: A bookstore customer who has rediscovered books the same way that born again Christians rediscover God. New Literates can be just as passionate in their conversation as Book Geeks, but since their knowledge of contemporary literature is close to nil, they can at least be persuaded to talk about something else. On the whole, New Literates are friendly and susceptible to remembering good book choices.
The Reader: This person will never buy a book and spends time in bookstores reading the latest hardcovers, hoping to remain in the loop on current titles. Often unemployed, sometimes deranged, the Reader is generally benign provided that they have several books and tables to themsleves. The Reader has strange dietary habits, which are timed with the opening and closing of the store.
The Solipsist: The Solipsist differs from the Reader in that (a) he does not read and (b) he doesn’t particularly care about books. The Solipsist often views the bookstore as a temporary Witness Protection Program, a refuge from the rain or the hard realities of existence. He is perhaps fleeing a lover, requires to be lost within his own thoughts, or is looking for an exotic locale to mask his momentary contempt for the human race. The Solipsist doesn’t spend as much time in a bookstore as The Reader, but he can be just as snarly.
Spoilsport Acquaintance: The acquaintance who doesn’t really like you, but who feels compelled to “run into you,” snubbing your reading choice by saying, “I read that YEARS ago” or “That book was OKAY” just as you are about to slide your credit card. Too cowardly and dishonest to acknowledge the truth, Spoilsport Acquintances pose no threat to the bookstore employee, but are considerably vexing for manic depressives. (And it is worth noting that Spoilsport Acquaintaces are often manic depressives themselves!)
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Books To Jump Up and Down Over
Beyond Heaving Bosoms by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan. The famed writers behind Smart Bitches, Trashy Books have written a very funny and thoughtful volume about romances, both Old Skool and New Skool. Here is a book that any smug and humorless literary manboy beating his flabby passive chest over Banville or Bolano should probably read pronto, if only for the distant possibility that he might get over himself. While the Choose Your Own Adventure segment at the end caused me to have a very disturbing dream involving Shelley Long (don't ask), Sarah and Candy did have me rethinking many of my own misperceptions when I wasn't busy laughing. They're not afraid to take on the New York Times Bok Review or even the groupthink within certain sectors of the romance community.
Alice Fantastic by Maggie Estep. This wild and highly enjoyable narrative involves two sisters (presumably, the third one was still being rented out by Chekhov), a hippie ex-junkie mother who lives with seventeen dogs, a murder, gambling, and libidinous Hollywood actresses who live in Woodstock. But this is the wonderful Maggie Estep we're talking here. And what seems at first like a quirky yarn becomes something unexpectedly moving about connectivity. What I love about Estep's work is the way that she'll juxtapose an extremely astute observation (now that you mention it, why do cab drivers always have somebody to talk with on the phone past midnight?) with an often outrageous story development.
Generosity by Richard Powers. It doesn't come out until September 29th, but Richard Powers's latest will have anyone committed to books reconsidering their literary fervor. I foresee some animosity from the vanilla critics hostile to idea-driven novels, but book bloggers, YouTube chroniclers, and MFAs would do well to plunge into this chance-taking narrative, which introduces vital questions about what the reader's relationship is with media, scientific dissection, and "creative nonfiction." Are we rats fleeing to happy cities? Or can we find the humanism within the purported plague?
Pieces for the Left Hand by J. Robert Lennon. Lennon is one of the most underrated fiction writers working today. Much as On the Night Plain proved that Lennon had a lot more in the toolbox than heartfelt (and often very funny) suburban satire, this slim but fascinating volume juxtaposes 100 small-town anecdotes -- arranged by category -- in a manner that reads, at times, like Nicholson Baker's passions for minutiae and, at other times, Stewart O'Nan's concern for psychological detail. The result is fiction that makes us wonder about whether one person's subjective view of particulars can entirely be trusted. This book never found a publisher in 2005. But thankfully, Graywolf has released it in the United States, along with Lennon's latest novel, The Castle.
Wonderful World by Javier Calvo. This wonderfully raucous volume has been completely ignored by the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Los Angeles Times. But it's probably one of the most delightful reading experiences I've had this year. Calvo cavalierly mashes up multiple genres and manages to mix up familial subtext with larger-than-life, almost cartoonish characters. (Indeed, one might argue that one mobster's penis is a character of its own in this sprawling novel.). This is not an easy thing to pull off, but Calvo makes it work. And it's helped immeasurably by Mara Faye Lethem's idiom-specific translation. (See longer post.)
The Means of Reproduction, Michelle Goldberg This thoughtful book tackles the complicated (and little discussed) subject of reproductive rights from numerous angles, which includes a number of unpleasant but necessary ones. The upshot is that there isn't a quick fix solution for declining birth rates and fundamentalist abuses. Just about every political faction has contributed to the friction. But you'll want to read this book anyway to refamiliarize yourself with the topic, but also to understand just what's occurred during the past several decades to get us where we are today. (See also podcast interview with Goldberg.)
