Book Love – Page 6 – Bookish Butch

The Library

biankyrr: The Library…where the cool kids hang out

I love Obama and I love libraries,

great picture,

from Bookshelf porn,

I’m addicted to this site. 🙂

**********************************

When I went to college and university,

we used to have these,

and these,

this is for the benefit of you,

youngins,

Did you get, my best West Virginia accent or maybe that’s Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies:-)

Card catalogues,

now you know what they look like.

This post is about Libraries.

I’ve always had a thing for libraries,

and,

librarians,

although,

I have never dated one,

a regrettable circumstance.

I have always been eager to learn.

I love libraries like,

I love bookstores,

perhaps,

heresy,

more.

Libraries are silent,

almost,

you walk the stacks,

and all you hear,

is the soft echo,

of your boots,

and your heart.

Row upon row,

of neatly arranged books,

bound books,

for the most part.

Every subject,

many languages.

Back in the days,

when dinosaurs walked the earth,

the 80’s,

this is what seating looked like in libraries,

The library at my college,

was housed in the old chapel part,

of a convent,

and it sort of looked like that,

add a little squalor,

worse chairs,

formica tables,

and some pretty light,

from the stained glass windows,

and,

you have a close approximation.

Nowadays,

libraries are all chrome and glass,

witness our Bibliotheque Nationale,

right here in Montreal,

It’s nice,

it’s clean,

it’s functional.

An impressive amount,

of people use it,

and the project,

came in on time,

and on budget.

This might not be impressive,

in your kneck of the woods,

but,

in Québec,

it is practically unique.

When, I went to,

Concordia University,

a no name,

no reputation,

popular,

university,

here,

in Montreal.

The library was housed,

in a riquety old building,

with riquety old elevators,

the stacks were very narrow,

and you could hear the hum,

of neon lights,

nothing sexy or inspiring,

about it,

more horror movie,

setting.

Which might explain why I can’t find a picture

For years,

I didn’t go to the library.

I bought books,

and haunted bookstores,

both,

new and used.

A year ago,

or so,

I went back to the library.

I’m glad I did,

the smell of it,

wow,

like coming home.

There are few things in life,

more important than,

a feeling of home.

For me,

the smell of roasting chicken,

mom style,

the smell of clean sheets,

the light smell of fresh,

impossible to define,

on,

a woman’s kneck or hair,

home,

comfort,

sensuality.

Libraries are sensuous for their,

smell,

for what they represent,

knowledge,

discovery,

escape.

The library engages my senses,

and brings me peace of mind.

I think I’ll go for a visit,

soon,

maybe,

today.

Later girls,

**addendum went to the library and took out Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin, next on my list for The GLBTQ Challenge and in the spirit of Cass’ book apocalypse, Gertrude Stein, fun stuff. Still reading -Jude The Obscure and will review/appreciate soon***

Fever makes me nostalgic

What do you read when you have a cold?

when you feel rotten?

when you are hurting?

Do you turn to the comfortable arms,

of an old friend,

or do you try to escape,

with the new and the light.

Do you seek,

the literary equivalent of,

mac and cheese,

comfortable uncomplicated,

or the restorative power of,

chicken soup,

familiar and old-fashioned,

or,

is spicy and decongestive,

your thing.

I’m interested, tell me.

Since the beginning of the year,

I have read nothing published before 1971,

it wasn’t intentional,

it worked out that way,

and,

it is a good thing.

I find comfort in stories,

both set in,

and written in,

the past.

I particularly enjoy,

the 19 Th and,

early 20 Th century,

why?

I’m not sure,

but,

perhaps it has to do,

with,

the notion of,

promise,

of idealism.

So, many changes,

taking place,

new ideas being expounded,

the betterment of mankind,

the forging of individual freedom,

feminism,

anarchism,

fraternity,

liberty,

equality.

We, today,

reap the benefits of,

and sometimes,

abuse the privileges,

of freedom of expression,

of the right to be who and what we are.

These rights were,

attained,

through cracks on the head,

imprisonment,

and even,

loss of life.

The pioneers of,

Haymarket,

of Asbestos,

of Selma.

There are more recent examples of course,

Stonewall,

Berlin,

Tien an men square,

Prague.

Brave people keep fighting for their rights.

I’m attached to the 19 th and early twentieth century,

probably for the same reason,

I long for card catalogues and courting,

I’m a silly romantic.

But, when I feel rotten or I have a cold,

I want to read about Anne,

or Jo, Meg, Amy and Beth.

Of girlhood in a simpler time,

but,

of girlhood seeking to overcome,

girlhood,

and becoming emancipated,

freethinking women.

I want to read about Emma Goldman,

and the suffragettes.

They all in varying degrees restore,

my faith in the power and resilience,

of the human spirit.

When I’m sick, I get nostalgic,

especially for times,

I haven’t lived through.

Perhaps it is a middle aged thing,

combined with fever.

Don’t hold it against me.

Later girls,

The Venus Magazine, Inaugural Issue

http://kissedbyvenus.ca/?page_id=2405

I can’t tell you how proud I am,

to contribute to this interesting and diverse publication!!

See if you can figure out my contributions,

hint:

one under my real name,

one under a pseudonym,

that might,

ring a bell.

I want to thank Alexandra Wolfe,

for giving me a chance,

to expand my writing muscles,

she is very patient,

with an amateur such as myself.

Girls,

promise me you will try to check it out,

OK?

feedback,

is essential to publications such as this,

so go to it:-)

Besides it’s good.

Later girls,

The love of books- it’s a beautiful thing

I finished,

Parnassus On Wheels and

The Haunted Bookshop.

The wait,

getting them out of storage,

was worth it.

Delightful books,

about the love of books,

and the communication of that love.

Anybody who sells books,

should track it down.

It will renew evangelical zeal in you.

You know the book business is tough,

you make,

no money,

you compete with thrift stores,

who sell books according to,

size!!

People want the flavour of the month,

think,

vampires,

zombies,

I travelled to India, Italy or Nepal,

and it changed my life,

how to make a million dollars,

by thinking you will:-)

But, you also meet exceptional people,

the book lovers,

like my friend the busy writer,

my friend with impeccable taste,

Francois the anarchist,

the guy who is reading twelve books a week,

to keep from going insane.

People of outstanding character,

or of loose morals.

People who love books,

and if they love books,

they are my people,

the bookish,

the tribe.

Some days,

usually,

in the polar bear days,

of January, February,

or the smouldering sticky days,

of July and August,

it’s Montreal, we get both,

you wonder,

why did I give up my,

steady job,

45 g’s,

with benefits and a pension plan?

And,

Then,

In walks,

this kid you know,

and haven’t seen in a few years,

you say “Hey, how you doing?”

and she smiles and says “you remember me?”

“Of course!”

and then she hands you a promotional card for her new book,

and says “thanks for encouraging me”.

You don’t remember encouraging her,

to do anything but,

read,

but,

obviously you made a difference.

To spread good books about, to sow them on fertile minds,

to propagate understanding and a carefulness of life and beauty,

isn’t that high enough a mission for a man?

page 192 The Haunted Bookshop-Christopher Morley

Well, it is for this Butch,

and although that doesn’t pay the bills or keep you warm at night,

it helps you sleep,

knowing,

that sometimes,

you make a difference.

Later girls,

I love Orwell

Today is a late day,

I start late, I finish late.

Mom minds the store in the mornings,

Thursdays and Fridays.

I get my morning to myself.

At this time of year it’s quiet,

the windows are closed,

the snow or rather,

close city facsimile,

muffles sounds.

It’s good,

just me,

my thoughts,

and a snoring cat,

The Dude,

is turning into a snorer,

advancing age,

I guess.

On the weekend I was re-reading parts of,

George Orwell’s,

Books v. Cigarettes,

a series of essays.

On the importance one attaches to books,

on working in a used bookshop,

on writing book reviews.

It is a slim and small volume,

published by Penguin,

in it’s Great Ideas collection.

I love Orwell.

I read Animal Farm and 1984 in college.

Strong political and social commentary.

I also read,

Down And Out In Paris And London,

an unforgettable journey,

through the lives of the working poor,

the new immigrant and the homeless.

Stark, hard, and true,

still pertinent today.

Orwell, to me, is a sort of a naive cynic.

An observer of human nature and,

how cruel man can be.

He sees things as they are,

they haven’t changed much,

corrupt power,

the rich getting richer,

the poor getting poorer.

But, he also,

volunteered to help the Republican side,

in the Spanish civil war,

his injuries left him with precarious health,

for the rest of his days.

Talk about putting up or shutting up.

The man believed,

you could and must change the world.

Orwell deserves to be read.

His fiction, prophetic.

His journalism, hauntingly beautiful.

Journalism as Art,

how often can you say that?

Check out this site http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/,

they publish Orwell’s diaries as a blog,

I have just discovered it and will be exploring.

Orwell was also a cranky guy,

I like cranky people with attitude,

they move the world forward.

They also believe in truth not rectitude.

Here is an excerpt from Bookshop Memories,

one of the essays in the previously mentioned collection,

a good example of truth and crankiness:

When I worked in a second-hand bookshop–

so easily pictured, if you don’t work in one,

as a kind of paradise where charming old gentlemen

browse eternally among calf-bound folios-the thing that

that chiefly struck me was the rarity of really bookish people.

Later girls

The need to read

One of my favourite authors, Somerset Maugham,

in one of my favourite short stories,

The Book Bag, describes his,

well, the character’s,

need to read,

this way:

Some people read for instruction,which is praiseworthy,

and some for pleasure,which is innocent,but, not a few read from habit,

and I suppose that this is neither innocent nor praiseworthy.

Of that lamentable company am I. Conversation after a time bores

me, games tire me, and my own thoughts,which we are told are the

unfailing resource of a sensible man,have a tendency to run dry.

Then I fly to my book as the opium smoker to his pipe…

and like a dope-fiend who cannot move from place to place without taking a

plentiful supply of his deadly balm I never venture far without a sufficiency of

reading matter.

I don’t see reading, quite like that but,

close.

I always have a book, a newspaper or a magazine with me.

Sunday laundromat visits,

I bring a book.

Riding the subway on my own,

a book.

Go away for a few days,

several books.

If I owned an e-reader,

I would still bring a book,

for possible emergencies.

Sometimes I travel with another person,

and wish I could read,

manners prevent me.

Waiting and life are so much better with books.

I like people,

I like conversation,

I even like television,

but reading and books,

they are my fall back,

my safe place,

the beginning and end of each day.

Sort of explains the bookish moniker,

I guess.

Later girls

Reading Is Sexy

I’ve always thought so.

I found this image on bookshelfporn.com,

I’ve mentioned them before,

a veritable cornucopia of book shots,

for the bookishly inclined.

Reading is sexy,

readers are sexy,

and writers are really sexy.

Although,

if you hung out in my bookstore some afternoons,

you could say readers are,

psycho or strange or socially retarded,

whatever,

Reading is sexy.

The act itself is sexy,

the intimate communication between two minds,

the writer’s and the reader’s,

the tactile aspect,

the feel of the book,

the smell of it,

the weight of it,

no doubt,

sexy.

The acquisition of knowledge,

exciting, enlightening and sexy.

Remember that teacher,

you know which one,

for me,

it was the smell of Opium by St-Laurent,

firm breasts in a tight sweater and,

the reading of Macbeth out loud.

Be still my heart.

Maybe for you it was a shop teacher,

a History professor.

makes no difference,

whatever floats your boat,

fact is,

it stems from reading.

A librarian looks at you over her glasses,

a writer gazes at you,

with impossibly deep dark eyes.

Yeah, Baby!

You read?

The whole world is at your disposal, fingertips,

and that my friends is,

sexy,

in every sense of the word.

Later girls,

*** nothing like fluff, to start the year on the proper light note:-)***

Wrap up for 2010

I have been going over what I read for 2010.

I was under the impression,

that I had read much less than 2009.

Not really.

2009: 58 books

2010: 54 books

Not much of a difference.

If you consider that 2010 had the following factors going against it,

1-Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics,

two weeks spent in front of the television.

2-My mom’s heart attack,

non stop worrying and no concentration.

3-The summer of hell,

‘nough said.

4-The Habs making it to the Stanley Cup semi-finals,

first time in 15 years.

That makes for several weeks of no reading,

well not much reading,

I always read.

I started my reading year with,

Last Night In Twisted River,

John Irving, my man.

I will be ending it with,

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.

Rich and full.

I am shocked to see,

I have read 1 French Language book,

only one.

It was a decent one but,

by no means a masterpiece,

L’Élégance Du Hérrison by Muriel Barbery.

I must do better in 2011!

I read 12 mysteries in 2010,

I used to read 30-40 a year,

now,

quality more than quantity.

As far as Male/Female author ratio is concerned,

22 were by male authors,

that leaves 32 for the women.

The author I read most this year,

Somerset Maugham, 4 books.

The author I discovered this year and will be reading more of,

Andrea Levy.

Non-fiction reading not much,

7 books,

mostly literary memoirs and collections of letters.

I like fiction.

I didn’t count rereads but,

there must be 4-5.

I also didn’t count the 4 novels I read in manuscript form,

they are by a good friend of mine,

I’ll tell you about them when they come out,

if she wants me to.

So for 2011,

I will be participating in The GLBT Q Reading Challenge,

( I also added the Q, following the example of Amy, it is as it should be)

here is the list of books I will be reading:

The Price Of Salt by Patricia Highsmith

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

Maurice by E.M Forster

Normal by Amy Bloom

The Gilda Stories by Jewel Gomez

The sixth is to be determined.

Any suggestions?

Also I would like to read Thomas Wolfe’s,

Look Homeward, Angel and Of Time And The River,

Big, thick, Southern fiction.

Since I was a child,

I have been attracted to the tragic destiny of Wolfe.

This year I try,

hard.

I’m hoping Cass doesn’t make us read our Bunker List,

I may never be heard from again:-)

I will let her reveal the said Bunker list when she sees fit but,

let me tell you it’s a doozy.

More French language books, GLBTQ, and some dense Southern Literature,

so goes the objective for 2011.

Let’s see how well I do.

I wish you all a Healthy and Happy New Year celebration.

Grab your girl/guy or whoever and tell them you love them.

Because the world needs more love and more readers:-)

Later girls

The Charm of Waiting

When I visited the Grande Bibliotheque on Sunday,

I wanted to find two books I have read much about,

especially on some of the Brit book blogs,

The Haunted Bookshop and Parnassus On Wheels,

by Christopher Morley.

I couldn’t find either of them.

I looked in the English language novels and in the mysteries.

Couldn’t find them.

So I waited my turn and looked them up on the computer,

**side note : I love the digital age but, I really miss card catalogues, I believe it is more esthetics than practicality, the beautiful wooden drawers and typed cards- Gorgeous. **

they were there,

in a one volume compilation.

Cool,

so I scroll down to get the call number,

and then I notice the notation which roughly translates as,

in storage.

I walk over to the information desk,

and ask the young lady if I can take it out.

Of course, she says, as long as my file is free of fines,

it is.

I can fill out a form and in approximately fourteen days,

I will be notified of the book’s arrival and,

have four days to pick it up.

So we filled out the form and,

I should be reading them sometime in January.

I was a little bit disappointed,

I had hoped to read them over Christmas,

but, January is probably better,

all bookshops are sort of haunted in January,

mine is no exception.

The point of this story,

and there is one,

in the many years that I have used libraries,

this is a first.

I have never had a book brought out of storage.

Does this mean I am hopelessly out of style?

Perhaps.

But, what I really think it means is that,

I have become more picky about my reading and,

more patient.

A few years ago,

I would have skipped the waiting,

and picked it up at a bookstore or ordered it online.

Spent too much money.

Now I prefer to wait and,

chance picking it up used or borrow it from the library.

I no longer have the ambition of owning thousands of books,

been there, done that, moved them too many times.

I want to read them.

Part of the fun has become anticipation,

book foreplay.

Kinky.

Well…

Later girls

Happened upon in a book slump

Wow, it’s really coming down out there.

Cotton Ball snow,

pretty.

The Habs lost last night,

second in a row.

They lost to Toronto,

that hurts.

In a effort to get out of my book slump,

I read a Robert B Parker,

that was lying around the bookstore.

The Professional, a Spencer novel.

I had never read any Parker,

I do however,

remember the character from a television show,

Spencer For Hire,

shows you how old I am.

Spencer is a private detective in Boston.

I like detective novels.

The one’s I really like are,

the Sara Paretsky V.I. Warshawski novels,

to a lesser extent the Sue Grafton Kinsey Milhone’s.

The old fashioned hard drinking,

macho stuff is not really my thing.

The Parker wasn’t like that.

It is very masculine,

in the sense that Spencer is a guy,

a guy who used to box and is a private eye.

He is also a literate, mature, funny man.

His love interest is a mature beautiful woman,

a Dr of Psychology from Harvard.

Susan is also a fun character.

I loved this novel.

I zipped right through it,

not bored for an instant.

I intend to take some out of the library.

Parker wrote many,

sadly there will be no more,

he passed away.

Still, there should be enough to last a while.

Once I finished the Parker,

I was poking around looking for something else.

A few weeks ago,

I had put aside for a customer,

The International by Glenn Patterson.

This customer,

one of my favourites,

likes short story collections,

and obscure British, Canadian, Irish … novels.

For some reason she passed on The International.

I looked at it again,

for me.

On the back, Colm Toibin describes Patterson as:

One of the best contemporary Irish novelists.

Here is the jacket description:

January 1967, An ordinary Saturday in the Blue Bar of the International Hotel In Belfast. While 18-year-old Danny pulls pints, he contemplates his future and the bar’s varied clientele. But, ordinary Saturday’s like this are almost over. On the next day the hotel will host the inaugural meeting of the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association, and the slide towards the troubles will begin.

Sounded good to me,

I love fiction about The Troubles.

It seems to me,

that I have seen mostly movies about The IRA era.

Cal, In The Name Of The Father, Some Mother’s Son, The Crying Game.

All really hard, dark, and piss you off type movies.

Makes you angry at the waste and the injustice.

It does however make for good fiction.

This novel seems to be just what I need right now.

Well, have a lovely Sunday.

Later girls