Death / Modern Times / Comic Books / Drama / The Gnome

I've been absent from the Green Apple blog for a couple of weeks. I'm sorry. I've just been busy as a beast around the old bookshop lately. I really hope that didn't mess anything up for you. People are really serious about the internet nowadays, using it to synchronize their daily routines, bank, read books, schedule optometry appointments, and I'm kinda all like 'whaaa?' I mean I haven't been to the optometrist in years. I've got a twitter account and all, but that's just because I was hoping to get kinda famous (and maybe meet Shatner) like that Sh*t My Dad Says guy did. In the parlance of our times I am, for the most part, 'out of the conversation.'

So what have I got to blog about after a two week hiatus? Well, a bunch of things I guess. Here we go:

First off, on April 6th L.J. Davis died. At was seventy years old he had been a Guggenheim Fellowship recipient, husband, journalist, father, landlord, divorcee and a relatively obscure novelist. Oddly enough through what some would call a strange sort of serendipity I purchased my own copy of what is perhaps Davis' most famous novel, A Meaningful Life, on the very date of his death. Perhaps even at the same instant? Who knows? Not me. What I do know is that the novel was an excellent light read, a dry humor on banal attempts at middle class redemption (I relate!), and that we've got remaindered copies of it here at Green Apple for $5.98. Come in and buy it with one of those ScoutMob thingies that we've been promoting and that's like practically free. Daaaang.

Next item. Modern Times Bookstore. In just ten days Modern Times will have moved on from it's 40 year old seat at 888 Valencia Street and will be settled in a new location at 2919 24th Street between Alabama and Florida. This will certainly be complicated for all invested parties, probably much more than it even sounds, so in an effort to help our bibliophile friends across town we at Green Apple encourage you, please, to buy books from them if you find yourself out that way. Hell, maybe even make the trip. I hear there are a lot of places to get cupcakes around there too. They've got new and used books at slashed prices and will be hosting a party moving out this coming Saturday. More information HERE.

A requisite mention here, not to belittle any excitement I may have by using the word 'requisite.' Maybe that sounds too terse... er... I am really caffeinated right now. Notable new arrivals in my section, the "graphic novel" section, as the sobriquet stands:

-Mister Wonderful: A new-ish book by the ever reliable modern master, Dan Clowes. Although this has only now been collected, it serves a bit as a conceptual precursor to his other recent release, Wilson. Originally this was published as a serial in The New Yorker Magazine.
-POWER MASTRS III: A month or so ago I wrote a big fat post on how amazing and insane I think C.F.'s books is. It's not up on our website yet but I assure you that we've got it. I can see it from where I'm standing right now. Call me. 415-387-2272. I'll put it on hold for you.
-Mesmo Delivery: Rafael Grampá is an Eisner Award winning illustrator and author from Brazil, and his comic Mesmo Delivery is a colorful and mesmerizing display of graphic violence akin to Paul Pope or Moebius.
-Strange Tales II: The second collected volume of Marvel comic characters re-envisioned by indie artists, including a particularly hilarious take on Captain America by one of my new current favorites, Ben Marra.

AND SO ON...
I've got a new staff favorite. The Magic Tower. It's a collection of one act plays by Tennessee Williams, many of which have never before seen publication. If you don't already have a grasp on how incredible the work of Tennessee Williams is, well then let me emphasize his brilliance. Williams was a friggin' baller. We should be calling him Tennessee Chill-iams he is so cool. His presentation, slang, and many other things about his work can come off as antiquated, especially true for a child of the 90s like myself, but the guy understood some things about girls, dudes, ludes and bad attitudes. These plays range from in tone from Williams' two best sides as an author, both stinking drunk and hilarious drunk. I cannot encourage people enough to take a look at this awesome new collection, especially if your only contact with his work is the already critically lauded.

Alright. ONE LAST THING:
All the classic info. I would like to note just how difficult it is to incur Mergatroid's visage without making him look like a criminal. It is important to see that his hands are full. Then the tension is eased...

A collection of dust and decay

In my early 20s, while living at the New Jersey shore - don't even think it - I frequented a used bookshop (now, I hear, replaced by a store selling tires, which in turn replaced a liquor store) in one of the rundown neighborhoods at the edge of Atlantic City. In that desolate nether region of the state, cut off from the civilized world by the Pine Barrens and, well, the rest of New Jersey, used bookstores were few and far between, so this particular one - I've forgotten the name - was a dusty and cluttered haven. Never during any of my visits did I encounter another browser; I was left to think, a bit wistfully, that I was the only person who shopped here. The owner, a frail old man whose look belied his pugnacity, seemed reluctant to engage with his customer(s) and only did so with a sort of shuffling and begrudging respect.

Despite the lack of business, I cannot remember him ever acknowledging my arrival. He kept his head in a book, as if unwilling to let the presence of a mere human being interrupt his idyll. I liked his version of customer service: not unfriendly, but neither was he overeager to engage in conversation. He struck me as a man who didn't need to flip an "Open" sign around each morning, but did, perhaps, out of a desire to see some of the collection he'd gathered find other homes. (Occasionally, I would make a purchase that would delight him - I could see in his movements, a little more sprightly, as he wrote down each title I was buying on a carbon copy receipt.)

I bought dozens of books there and after a while noticed that many of them, mostly classic novels and works of philosophy, were inscribed with the same name and university on the top right corner of their title pages. The name is unimportant now, or is a story for another time, but a series of coincidences led me, then, to find out who this person was whose secondhand books I was buying...

All of which is to say in a roundabout way: Molly's post a few weeks back got me thinking about my relationship with bookstores as physical spaces in which one picks up books, carries them while browsing, where strangers may tell you, enthusiastically, "That's a great book," where you may accidentally stumble across something you didn't even know you were looking for, where you may meet your future partner, or sometimes just go to escape the house, and even where the sheer quantity of reading material is enough to make you want to give it all up in favor of... a beach somewhere, maybe. (Ah, but what would you read on that beach?)

I'm also reminded of an article I read this summer, about the late (and sadly neglected) novelist David Markson's relationship with his favorite bookstore, The Strand. It seems that after Markson's death his heirs sold his library, his books heavily annotated (if you've ever read one of his novels, you'll understand why), back to his favorite bookstore. As it happened, a customer picked up a copy of one Markson's secondhand books, noticed the name inscribed on the title page and dived into the stacks, seeking out more. (Read the story in the London Review of Books for a glimpse of some of these humorous annotations.)

And to really (finally) bring home this rambling point about serendipity, things that can only happen in the real world, and the delights of treasure hunting, there's this interview with Sylvia Beach, founder of the legendaryParisian bookstore Shakespeare and Company, where writers and artists as important as Paul Valery and Pablo Picasso came in search of conversation and books. (And where, in return for shelving books, lucky visitors can spend the night.)

An Argument for the Persistent Existence of Bookstores and Against Fear of Strangers

A couple of nights ago, a nice moment happened.

I was not in the mood for a nice moment, really. I was trying to swiftly but kindly close the Annex, doing the very unpleasant task of asking people to stop reading (something that always actually hurts me a little, even if I'm exhausted and have places to be) and there were a few stragglers, as there often are. There was a couple who had been pouring over multiple sections in search of a particular book, to no avail, and they moseyed toward the register lamenting the fact that they've had such trouble finding it as I was ringing up the last (particularly, um, healthy) stack of books of the night. The customer I was ringing up heard their conversation, and interrupted.

"I have about five copies of that book at home. It's one of my favorites, and I buy it every time I see it. If you're not in a rush I'd be happy to mail it to you."

I immediately handed over a post-it and a pen. They jotted. They offered payment, he refused. They talked about the book, how much they cherish it and how hard it is to come by. It was a book I'd never heard of, and I could tell that it was one that bonds the people who love it together because it's not a classic, not a "must read", but is nonetheless important to a few people for whatever reason (I like to hear people talk about their version of those; I have one of those).

There are, of course, so many quaint things to love about this story (Gift-giving! Real-life human interaction with strangers that is personal without being creepy! Unlikely common favorites! The mail!) but most of all it served as a nice little reminder as to the purpose of a bookstore as a space. A space can hold multiple people, it allows conversations to happen and glances at what another is reading, for listening in and reaching out. It's a function that is particularly crucial to the act of reading, I think, because, as wonderful as it is, reading can be such a solitary thing. It can get lonely. Come by the store at night sometime and stay a while, and you're bound to feel the value of having other people around for this very personal process. It's an aspect of book-buying, I think, that is crucial enough that it's hardly in danger of being replaced-- people just have to remember that in order to keep these spaces for ourselves, we have to buy books occasionally. Customers like the ones who exchanged an address the other night make me think that enough people aren't forgetting this. Maybe.

Now, because it's Friday and because as much as I want to wax nostalgic about "real books" I also don't want to wax too nostalgic about anything because, you know, it gets too serious and all waxy, I leave you with this drinking game to play while reading blogs like ours. Get a little toasted and go talk to a stranger, why don't ya.

She can always buy from us...

A sad story coming out of Texas today - it seems that the Barnes and Noble is closing in the town of Laredo, which might have been welcome news to the independent booksellers there, except that there are no other bookstores in this town of 250,000. In fact, the next closest bookstore of any kind to Laredo is some 150 miles away...UGH! A 14 year old girl in Laredo named Zhuara Rivera is circulating a petition to try and save the store, but even though it is a profitable location, the chain itself is in the red - so it seems like curtains for the Laredo branch.

So, the big boxes move in and force the independents out (we've all heard this one before). But then the big box has fiscal issues and makes the corporate decision from afar to close a profitable store because the massive scale of their operation is losing money. With well over 700 Barnes and Noble bookstores throughout the U.S. employing some 40,000 people, it makes me wonder how many situations like Laredo we're going to see over the next few years.

Fight the good fight Ms. Rivera! But if you ever need the help of an independent bookseller who won't turn its back on you, drop us a line at http://www.greenapplebooks.com/ and I'll make sure that you get free shipping for life!

When We Let You Down

People get a little wiggy around the holiday season. It's the truth. What are ya' gonna' do? When you're desperate to find that perfect gift for that special someone/thing (I mention 'thing' because yes, someone did ask me for a recommendation on a book for their dog once), it's easy to temporarily forgive the sins of our many crummy corporate competitors and turn to them for an answer. They've got a hell of a lot more money and power and to blow tracking down whatever it is that you may need- but friends! Friends! I'm asking ya' pretty please on bent knees not to falter! The culture of reading that a corporation offers is bankrupt of character. So here's the deal. If you can't find what you're looking for at Green Apple, I am happy to give you a list of independent bookstores in San Francisco that will be thrilled to accept your business. That way we won't see so many book stores going the way of Black Oak and Stacey's (or at least not as soon), and you don't have to feed Moloch.

AARDVARK BOOKS

Neighborhood: Castro
227 Church St
(between Market St & 15th St)
San Francisco, CA 94114

(415) 552-6733

PHOENIX BOOKS

Neighborhood: Noe Valley
3957 24th St
(between Sanchez St & Noe St)
San Francisco, CA 94114

(415) 821-3477

ADOBE BOOKS

Neighborhood: Mission
3166 16th Street
(at Albion St)
San Francisco, CA 94103

(415) 864-3936

DOG EARED BOOKS
Neighborhood: Mission

900 Valencia St
(between 20th St & Liberty St)
San Francisco, CA 94110

(415) 282-1901

RED HILL BOOKS

Neighborhood: Bernal Heights
401 Cortland Avenue
(between Bennington St & Wool St)
San Francisco, CA 94110

(415) 648-5331

THE GREAT OVERLAND BOOK COMPANY
Neighborhood: Inner Sunset

345 Judah St
(between 8th Ave & 9th Ave)
San Francisco, CA 94122

(415) 664-0126

BOUND TOGETHER BOOKS

Neighborhood: Haight-Ashbury
1369 Haight St
(between Central Ave & Masonic Ave)
San Francisco, CA 94117

(415) 431-8355

(and of course we all know...)
CITY LIGHTS BOOKSTORE
Neighborhoods: Nob Hill, North Beach/Telegraph Hill
261 Columbus Ave
at Broadway
(between Jack Kerouac Aly & Saroyan Pl)
San Francisco, CA 94133

Now, this is all just off the top of my head. I know I'm forgetting plenty. So if another good shop comes to mind let us know. Happy Holidays to the good kids, & if you've been bad, well, watch your butt. It's getting cold and Krampus is out there...