Driving Under the Influence of Books

And you thought texting while driving was dangerous.

Post-9/11 Novels: Adding The Zero

There's been lots of discussion today about post-9/11 novels -- which of them are good, which are bad, and which are timeless. In that final, transcendent category of literature built to last, Ian McEwan's superb Saturday and Joseph O'Neill's lyrical Netherland seem to be the clear leaders, while the rest remain a mixed bag of hotly debated also-rans: Don DeLillo's Falling Man, John Updike's Terrorist, Jay McInerney's The Good Life, and Benjamin Kunkel's Indecision, among others.

My take? I'll enter the fray with two of my least favorites: Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (which I found cloying and virtually unreadable) and Ken Kalfus's A Disorder Peculiar to the Country (which I found sour and unfunny but mercifully short).

As for favorites, I'd like to put in an enthusiastic word for a title that isn't often mentioned in conversations about post-9/11 literature, or at least not often enough: Jess Walter's The Zero.

Despite being shortlisted for a National Book Award, The Zero somehow fell through the cracks after it was first published in 2006. Partly this had to do, I think, with Walter's willingness to write a comic novel about 9/11, and partly with the spectacular public implosion of his then-publisher, the Regan imprint at HarperCollins. I remember speaking with Judith Regan's assistant at the time, who also loved the book and who just shook her head sadly in acknowledgment of Walter's raw deal. "Bum luck," she called it. "Such a great novel, too."

Here's the blurb I wrote for the bookstore shortly after The Zero was released in hardcover:

What Catch-22 did for Joseph Heller and Slaughterhouse Five did for Kurt Vonnegut I suspect The Zero, in time, will do for Jess Walter. In what some may view as an act of post-9/11 literary hubris ("the Zero" refers to ground zero in New York City), Walter has written a novel of darkly comic genius that is plot-driven, suspenseful, heavy on the dialogue, and above all, funny. No small feat for a novel that opens with street cop Brian Remy waking up to find he's shot himself in the head, then slowly discovering that he's somehow involved with a nefarious U.S. intelligence agency called the Department of Documentation. Unfortunately, Remy can't remember if he's one of the good guys or one of the bad guys. The novel's amnesia premise and jarring narrative gaps may wear thin at times -- Memento, anyone? -- but the real prize here is Walter's language. He has an unerring ear for dialogue, and his descriptions of the work that goes on atop the smoldering rubble of the Twin Towers -- and the men who carry out that work at their own peril -- are hellish, beautiful, and occasionally heart-stopping. A remarkable, highly recommended read.

What do you think? Which are your picks for best and worst 9/11 novel?

-Brandon

Geriatric Sexcapades

Today in Tempe, Arizona, it was 88 degrees. The orange blossoms are still blooming, the birds are still singing – but I recognize that this is a temporary condition. When temperatures are above 80 in early April, it’s impossible to pretend that Spring is anything other than fleeting. In a matter of weeks, the Sonoran desert will revert to a desiccated wasteland capable of causing heat stroke in a matter of moments.

But for now, Tempe is practically oozing vitality and romance – I catch teenagers necking in my neighborhood, customers are holding hands in the store, and I keep reading novels filled with geriatric sexcapades.

Nothing screams Spring like elder-love.

I didn’t set out to read multiple books on passion in the 70+ set, which makes it somewhat stranger that I coincidentally selected three successive books that featured wrinkled gymnastics. Other people have pointed out that the publishing world sometimes releases multiple titles on similar themes, but nursing home nookie seems a little more bizarre than usual. But what I discovered was that, contrary to my youth-centric stereotypes, these depictions of amorous seniors have a lot to teach even a jaded 20-something like myself. For example: life is too short to waste it on petty lies, deceits, and disagreements. It is important to be honest to yourself and to those around you. Be confident in your physical appearance, because it will only get worse over time and nobody really cares anyway. And, finally, it is never too late to find love, no matter how many wrinkles and sags you might have.

Aren’t those nice messages?

So if you find yourself lovelorn this Spring, I recommend checking out one of the following titles:

The Little Book, by Selden Edwards.

Sima’s Undergarments for Women, by Ilana Stanger-Ross.

Valeria’s Last Stand, by Marc Fitten (this one isn’t coming out until May, so write it down. It’s worth the wait).

These are the perfect books to read during these ephemeral temperate days. And don’t worry, they’re about more than just aged ardor.

- Rachel

Flap Copy Interview: Christian Lander

Last Tuesday, we hosted a booksigning for Christian Lander, author of the blog and subsequent book Stuff White People Like. A sizable and enthusiastic crowd stopped in to hear Lander talk about his unexpected rise to Internet fame, and then joined him afterward for drinks next door at Mac's Broiler & Tap, and even later at Four Peaks Brewery. He was generous enough to sit down with us pre-booksigning to answer a few questions about his taste in literature, Xbox, and the future for white people in a floundering economy.

Tessa: How would you define white people as they’re described in your book?

Christian Lander: You don’t have to be white to be "white," you just have to be rich. There’s the right kind of white people and the wrong kind of white people. Generally the white people I’m talking about are post-wealth. You don’t seriously worry about money if you spend your time pursuing being the most altruistic person possible or being artistic or being recognized as artistic.

Tessa: What are common misconceptions people read into the blog or book?

Lander: The people who need to have it cleared up are a really small minority. What’s amazing is that people look at the title and have one of two reactions. Either, “This is going to be really offensive and I’m going to get really upset” and then they look at it and they think “Oh shit, this is actually true,” or they look at it and they’re expecting “Stuff white people like: polo shirts, awkward dancing, mayonnaise.” You know what I mean? The old stereotypes that don’t apply or are so milked to death by really bad stand-up comics. And then they look at this and think “Oh, these aren’t the white people I’m used to seeing parodied; this is me.” Some people misinterpret it by thinking it means Stuff Only White People Can Like, implying this elitism. And that’s a mistake. Because this group I’m talking about are desperate to bring diversity into their friendships and into their class. They’re desperate to shed their elitist tag.

Tessa: But doesn’t the book also say that this group wants diversity, but only as long as they don’t have to step outside of their comfort zone? White people want diversity, but they don’t want to do anything too hard or painful to get it.

Lander: Yes, that's the hypocritical part that comes along with it. You always want to go to a place where you’re the only white person around -- except a nightclub.

Tessa: You said you didn’t meet your first Republican until you came to Arizona for graduate school. What are your experiences with the other half of white people, the social group your book doesn’t describe at all?

Lander: I also lived in Indiana, so I met a lot of other Republicans, and I met some eighteen-year-old Republicans. And that blew my mind. I didn’t understand how anyone can be 18 years old and that bitter. Don’t you want to save the world when you’re 18? I understand when you’re forty and sick of paying taxes. But at eighteen, don’t you want to help everybody? And I learned from my students really quickly -- no. So that was a bit of an eye-opener. And pretending to validate some of their opinions was very difficult. I had to be careful because if I attacked them instantly they were filled with this rage. Here’s this white liberal douchebag shutting me up. And then they get this feeling of victimhood again. I think that was what Sarah Palin was all about; about trying to tap into people who felt like they were being victimized by other white people. Victimized as stupid or as backwards or as racist, and they played into that. It worked, to an extent.

I have an entry in the book called "Knowing What’s Best for Poor People." That was what I learned living in Arizona and living in Indiana: that I really believed that if these people had the same education and money as me they’d be exactly like me. Its pretty fucking egotistical, right? My eyes were really opened to that, to the hypocrisy and ridiculousness of that, so that's why I try to point it out in the book.

Tessa: That was an entry that really stuck out for me. Most of the book is funny and light-hearted, but then every once in a while you point something out that rings as really uncomfortably true.

Lander: My favorite thing that someone can say about the book is I laughed at half of it and I cringed at the other half.

Tessa: Is the prognosis grim for white people now that the economy’s in a recession? They’ll have less money to spend on Apple products, and might suddenly be unable to afford being artists.

Lander: No this is perfect for white people, because its going to open up new neighborhoods to gentrify. And its going to drop property values, so you’re going to get more credibility for living in these neighborhoods again, and they’ll be gentrifying faster. Also, if you live in a city like New York or Chicago, you can stay while things get worse, while the other white people you hated leave to go back to the suburbs. So the neighborhoods will get rough again. White people want to be back in 1982 New York, and this is going to be the way to make it happen.

Tessa: What about white people in the age of Barack Obama? It was easy to be a white person during the Bush administration, when the country’s leader was a figure so easy to hate and want to distance yourself from. Now that person is Obama, who white people genuinely love but who they also aren’t allowed to hate.

Lander: The Bush thing is funny, because for eight years, white people felt oppressed. They felt like, I am oppressed in my own country, I’m not represented by my government, I’m going to pretend I’m Canadian when I go to Europe. So this one’s going to be interesting, it’s like you’ve got everything you want, and white people are never happy when they get everything they want. We have to wait just a little bit of time. Some people will figure out when they really push Obama on gay marriage that he never really supported it. Like, Oh my God, I wasn’t listening, I was too busy looking at the stickers. So the honeymoon will be over eventually.

Tessa: Would you mind telling us, since this is a bookstore blog, what you like to read?

Lander: It’s going to be as pretentious as you’d expect. I just read all the Douglas Coupland books: Generation X and Microserfs, Eleanor Rigby and Girlfriend in a Coma. I loved William Burroughs’ stuff before he started taking acid. If you read the compiled work of William Burroughs, you can see when he took his first hit of acid. Curtis Sittenfeld, who wrote American Wife. She’s amazing. On the literature side I like really unpretentious writers who write in a really straightforward way that tells a story. Of course I read Michael Pollan’s stuff and Barbara Ehrenreich’s stuff. And I read a lot of books on Los Angeles history. Mike Davis wrote some books -- City of Quartz and Ecology of Fear. No one in L.A. cares about L.A. history. L.A. history is like if a gas stationed opened in ’82. George Saunders, I like some of his stuff, sometimes it’s just a little too whimsical for me. Kurt Andersen -- I absolutely adore Kurt Andersen. He’s the guy who did Heyday and he was an editor at Spy back in the ‘80s. Spy magazine was The Onion before The Onion. It's beyond brilliant. And it’s actually discouraging to read because it’s so smart and bang-on hilarious.

Tessa: Give us an honest assessment of how white you are.

Lander: I wrote the book.

Tessa: So you would say most of the stuff applies to you?

Lander: Everything in there except the nature stuff. I don’t like camping or outdoor performance gear. I hate North Face stuff with a passion.

Tessa: Do you like expensive sandwiches?

Lander: I love expensive sandwiches. Tucson has some awesome expensive sandwiches. Bison Witches, that’s my favorite expensive sandwich in Tucson.

Tessa: Do you own a TV?

Lander: Of course. I play Xbox all the time.

Tessa: Do you have any entries on your blog on Xbox? Is that a white person thing?

Lander: Nintendo Wii is in there, that's a white person thing. Xbox bridges all cultures.

(Thanks for the photo, Sara!)

Stuff White People Like

Just ran across this longish CNN segment with Christian Lander, author of Stuff White People Like: A Definitive Guide to the Unique Taste of Millions. I never realized how much he resembles "Bananas"-era Woody Allen, an enviable hipster credential if ever one existed, at least for those of the Caucasian persuasion. Lander will be here next Tuesday for a talk and booksigning, so stop by, say hi, and meet the red-headed, bespectacled young repository of all things honky.

- Brandon

Wage Theft In America

This Super Bowl Eve (Saturday 1/31) we're hosting Kim Bobo, founder and director of Interfaith Worker Justice, who will be speaking about and signing her new book, Wage Theft in America. The book addresses a problem that is disconcertingly widespread and sadly under-discussed. Wage theft occurs when a worker doesn’t receive full compensation for work they perform. It happens when Wal-Mart fails to pay employees for working overtime, when a construction worker contracts to help build a house and then never sees his paycheck, when an undocumented worker is paid at a rate below the minimum wage.

Bobo, a nationally-recognized labor rights activist, founded Interfaith Worker Justice in 1991 as a way to heighten the religious community’s involvement in labor campaigns. The organization now has local chapters in seven cities across the country, including one in Phoenix that opened in September of 2008. Interfaith Worker Justice of Arizona holds weekly meetings on Thursday nights for workers who feel their rights have been violated, and also schedules individual meetings to address work issues on a case-by-case basis. They work primarily with immigrants whose undocumented status makes them vulnerable to exploitation and wage theft. “The low-wage earning immigrants we tend to work with often live paycheck to paycheck and cannot afford to not be paid,” says Cristina Sanidad of IWJAZ. “Basic needs, like food, clothing, medical care, education, and shelter, are harder to meet, and families often have to decide which of these they can live without.”

To find out more about Kim Bobo and Interfaith Worker Justice, visit www.iwj.org. To learn more about Interfaith Worker Justice of Arizona: www.iwjarizona.com.

- Tessa

Rabbit at Rest

JOHN UPDIKE, 1932 - 2009

“Preparing his cup of Sanka over the singing kettle, he wears his usual expression: that of a man beset by an embarrassment of delicious drolleries. The telephone starts ringing. A science magazine wants something pithy on the philosophy of subatomic thermodynamics; a fashion magazine wants 10,000 words on his favorite color. No problem — but can they hang on? Mr. Updike has to go upstairs again and blurt out a novel.”

- Martin Amis on John Updike

UPDATE: The New Yorker magazine has started a memorial thread for Updike on its blog, The Book Bench. As of this writing, Julian Barnes and Antonya Nelson have posted their thoughts. Updike contributed regularly to The New Yorker (his first piece appeared in 1954, his final piece last May), so expect this feature to be star-studded and ongoing.

-Brandon

Best. Commercial. Ever.

Turns out Ray Bradbury was right about wall-to-wall televisions. But 2001 has come and gone, and still no pneumatic people tubes!



-Brandon

The 2009 Tournament of Books

The Morning News today announced the contenders in their fifth annual Tournament of Books, a punishing competition in which the editors “take 16 of the most celebrated and highly touted novels of the year, seed them in a March Madness-type bracket, conscript them into a ‘Battle Royale of Literary Excellence,’ and, in honor of David Sedaris’s brother, present the author of the winning book a live rooster.”

Believe me, you’ll want to bookmark the site and check back regularly, both to vote for your favorites as they advance through the rounds, and to leave snarky comments when they fall to the Rooster’s bloody spur. It’s great fun, and far more sensible than whatever obscure mix of bibliomancy, numerology and entrail-reading is used to determine the National Book Award winners every year.

-Brandon

A Literary Man About Town

A paper man takes a stroll through a city made of books -- a literally literary town -- in this wonderful video from 4th Estate. It's not unlike working in a bookstore, really, where daily proximity to books and routine immersion in the sum total of the world's creativity and knowledge become commonplace but never dull. It's rated G, but squeamish bibliophiles take note: Several books were harmed in the making of this film.

-Brandon



(Via Paper Cuts)

Top 5 Solutions to Your Holiday Woes

The holidays are coming, and sometimes it’s nearly impossible to find the perfect gift. Luckily, there’s a book out there for everyone – even the people on your shopping list who hate to read. We’ve asked our staffers – who probably read more than they should – to give us some input about their favorite books. Until the holidays (and possibly a bit beyond), we’re going to publish their suggestions regularly. Check back to find out what the experts have to say about the best books on a variety of subjects – everything from cooking to zombies.

If you want to avoid the maddening crowds at the mall this Black Friday, head over to see us instead. You can get all of your holiday shopping done right here in our plaza, and we want to help you. The hoodlums at Hoodlums Music & Movies are joining in the fun and making some Top 5 Lists of their own – you can find more information about that here. Then join us in the Changing Hands community room at 6:00 p.m. on Friday, November 28 for a free screening of one of the greatest books-turned-movies of all time -- High Fidelity. We’ll talk about some of the hot new titles coming out for this gift-giving season, too.

In honor of movie night:

Top 5 Books That Actually Became Good Movies

1) High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

2) Thank You for Smoking, Christopher Buckley

3) A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

4) Oil! by Upton Sinclair

5) No Country for Old Men by Cormac Mccarthy

-Rachel

Download and Fold Your Own Poe

A little Halloween folding fun from Paper Toyz. Download E.A. Coobie by Goobeetsa here.

-Brandon

Fending Off the Offseason

“All literary men are Red Sox fans. To be a Yankee fan in literary society is to endanger your life.” - John Cheever

Arizona has become baseball country. The Diamondbacks have been competitive since their inception eleven years ago, and they’re finally drawing a respectable crowd. With the Cincinnati Reds slated to move Spring Training to Goodyear in 2010, we’ll officially split the pre-season with Florida. Glendale even lured the Dodgers away from their very own Dodgertown! Living in Phoenix, I should be in baseball heaven.

So why doesn’t it feel quite right?

I think the problem is that I grew up just outside Boston, Massachusetts. In Boston, a Red Sox hat is appropriate attire for school, a job interview, or your aunt’s wedding. The elements themselves united to challenge your fan-love. Through June, you were practically guaranteed freezing drizzle. July and August? Humidity that would drown the average desert-dweller. And by the time September and October came along, there was a decent chance you would need mittens. If you had season tickets in Boston, you would be allowed to test your mettle against every type of weather. But did we complain? Yes -- bitterly. You could hear almost as much whining in the stands as cheering. But we went anyway, dammit, and we enjoyed it.

It wasn’t just the weather, it was the stadium itself. The seats were more compacted than a car towed from Yawkey Way. It wasn’t until 2002 that the trough was replaced with urinals in the men’s bathroom. As some of my friends noted, there was an almost perpetual stench lingering over the park. But it was Fenway, and Red Sox fans united in fighting for its preservation. We weren’t just fighting for a ballpark, we were fighting for character and history. Fenway would never need a giveaway day, a sign begging for applause, or any concession to fans other than a rendition of “Dirty Water” played over the loudspeaker. The Sox have sold out more than 400 consecutive games, and in addition to the 37,000 fans inside the park, 50,000 more are lining the streets. So while I like the comfortable seats and well-manicured corridors of Chase Field, I find I miss feeling like my ballpark is held together by chewing gum and dreams. I miss rooting for a team that doesn’t have to resort to a gyrating bobcat and fancy graphic design to get the fans on their feet.

The other night, white-knuckled watching the Sox try to force Game 7 of the ALCS, a thought hit me like a wild pitch: I was unready for the season to end. What would I do with my Saturday afternoons? How else could I justify eating a giant sack of kettle corn for dinner? When else would fashion sense allow me to wear a matching hat, shirt and baseball-stitched bracelet? I decided to compile a list of my favorite baseball books (and some I’ve just been meaning to read) to be sure I could sustain myself through the long, cold baseball-free months.

NONFICTION
1. Shut Out, Howard Bryant
2. The Soul of Baseball, Joe Posnanski
3. The Teammates: A Portrait of a Friendship, David Halberstam
4. The Wrong Stuff, Bill Lee
5. Ball Four, Jim Bouton
6. Eight Men Out: The Black Sox and the 1919 World Series, Eliot Asinof
7. The Duke of Havana: Baseball, Cuba, and the Search for the American Dream, Steve Fainaru and Ray Sanchez

FICTION
8. Baseball: A Literary Anthology, Nicholas Dawidoff
9. The Natural, Bernard Malamud
10. Shoeless Joe, W. P. Kinsella

PICTORIALS
11. Baseball: 365 Days of Color Photographs from the Archives of Major League Baseball, Joseph Wallace
12. Baseball’s Golden Age: The Photographs of Charles M. Conlon, Neal and Constance McCabe
13. Grand Old Game: 365 Days of Baseball, Joseph Wallace
14. 100 Baseball Icons: From the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, Terry
Hefferman, Kit Hinrichs and Delphine Hirasuna

CHILDREN'S (THAT ARE BEAUTIFUL ENOUGH FOR ADULTS)
15. We Are the Ship: The Story of Negro League Baseball, Nelson Kadir

The Sorted Books Project

I love this. Carefully arranged "book clusters" from artist Nina Katchadourian's Sorted Books project. From private homes to public libraries, the curatorial process is the same: "[C]ulling through a collection of books, pulling particular titles, and eventually grouping the books into clusters so that the titles can be read in sequence, from top to bottom."

The results can be touchy-feely:



Lifetime Movie of the Week-y:



Lear on the heath-y:



Or Steven Spielberg-y, circa 1975. Cue the ominous cello music:



See more of the Sorted Books project here.

-Brandon

The Winner Is

I arrived at the bookstore this morning and found a copy of the just-released New Times "Best of Phoenix" awards on my desk. After blinking for a moment at the issue's befuddling cover and then thumbing past citations for "Best Bathroom" (Geisha A Go Go), "Best Place to Dress Like a Freak" (Easley's Fun Shop), "Best Local Law Firm Commercials" (Lerner & Rowe), and my personal favorite, "Best Bygone Theme Park" (Legend City, where I once barfed on the Krazy Kups), I discovered that Changing Hands has again won the award for "Best Bookstore."

Here's the entry:

Bookstores may be a dime a dozen (the way novels used to be), but there's something priceless about Changing Hands Bookstore, the independently owned Tempe shop that's become a Valley destination for book lovers, shopaholics, and DIY types. Along with a stunning selection of new and used reads -- many displayed with insightful comments from bibliophile employees -- Changing Hands hosts more public speaking events and book-signings than any other bookstore in the Valley.

Renowned physicist Michio Kaku and bestselling author Stephenie Meyer are just two big names to make recent appearances. In addition, there's a multitude of other interesting events on the Changing Hands calendar, from writing workshops and crafting groups to toddler-parent yoga. Besides books, the gift section has a well-edited variety of quirky finds.

Who can resist a crisp new journal, some exotic incense, or maybe a goofy Blackbeard action figure? Every aisle here is full of temptation. And as a bonus, you can waltz right into Wildflower Bread Co. when you're ready to sip some espresso and ogle the goodies you just bought. We'd probably live at Changing Hands if we could, but then they might just put us to work.

And lest you think the good folks at New Times are -- to borrow a phrase from a certain local presidential nominee -- "in the tank" for Changing Hands, consider this: We also won the Readers' Choice award.

A million thanks to New Times for the award love, and to our customers for voting us into the top spot again this year.

-Brandon

Making Books, Old School

I agree with William Smith at Hang Fire Books. This 1947 Encyclopedia Britannica video on book-making brings together some of my favorite things: books, more terrifying metal than my own CD collection (in which King Diamond and Slayer figure prominently), and a work environment hazardous enough to give an OSHA inspector a cerebral hemorrhage.

And the best part? The voice-over actor’s cloying, Jiminy Cricket-like narration of the printing and binding process. He begins:

“This man is an author. He writes stories. He has just finished writing a story. He thinks many people will like to read it. So he must have the story made into a book. Let’s see how the book is made!”

-Brandon

Idiot Girl Goes Postal

I emailed author Laurie Notaro last week to see if she could sign some books for a fan who was unable to attend her recent event here at Changing Hands (for Laurie's story collection The Idiot Girl and the Flaming Tantrum of Death). Her response was just too weird and wonderful to keep to myself. Here's our exchange, reproduced with Laurie's permission, of course:

Laurie:
Ooooh, potential disaster looming. Going to the post office is a HUGE pain in the ass for me, mainly because 1) I've been banned from the one closest to me and 2) standing in line behind Eugene people is a testament to witnessing vast amounts of stupidity, self-absorbency and essentially not understanding the basic principles on which the world works. I can't stand going there, and what will happen is that you will send me the package, and it will sit on my coffee table for weeks until you send me a nudging but nice email reminding me to send it out. I will still forget. You'll send me another note, I'll forget again, and it will go on this way until you are no longer speaking to me and I sure don't want that to happen.

So I will send you some bookplates, I'll sign them with whatever the lady wants, and as an added bonus for not being able to go to the post office, I'll send her stickers, magnets and an Idiot Girls membership card (which, by the way, is laminated).

I'm serious. If you send these to me, I will flake on you. Not intentionally, but it will happen. I am horrible at these things; it is a huge flaw and I admit it. If I can get this in the mail today, I will not flake on you. So...send me her name, what she wants me to write, how many, and I'll get them out.

Cindy:
Thanks, Laurie. By the way, why did you get banned from the post office?

Laurie:
When the price of stamps went up a couple of years ago, I went to the closest branch (it's in a crap store, like a Walgreens, but full of crap, floor to ceiling crap, crap like glass unicorns, balloons, Pyrex dishes and packages of fake poo. And candy. LOTS of stale candy. It's like the place where all old candy comes to completely decompose). I waited in line behind a zillion Eugenians who like to round out every money exchanging transaction with a nice, pointless conversation about a) are Disney stamps more expensive than regular stamps? b) what is the difference between a book of stamps and a sheet of stamps? and c) if they write a check, can they write it over the amount and get seven dollars and forty-two cents back? I was there for basically an entire afternoon and when it was finally my turn, I asked for 400 one-cent stamps. The post office lady looked at me like I had just called her a dirty whore. She actually gasped. "Oh no," she told me. "I can't give you that."

So I replied, "Oh, you don't have 400?"

And she said, "No, I do, but if I give you 400, there won't be any left for the next person who wants one-cent stamps."

And I replied, "Well, I'm not very concerned about that. I have to mail out 400 envelopes."

And she continued, "Well, you can't take them all for yourself! Someone else might need some and if I give them all to you, then I have to order more. And then I wait and wait for one-cent stamps because the post office is slow in sending them."

And I tried to reason: "What does it matter if I take all 400, or if I take two hundred and the guy behind me then asks for two hundred? You'll still have to order them."

And then she got surly and said, "No. I won't do it. I'll give you 200 and that's all. You can't have them all."

So I got the 200, and I was PISSED.

So the next day, I went back, waiting in line for a good portion of my life, and when I got up to the counter I asked for 200 one-cent stamps.

Then she got pissed. "I give you 100," she warned me, and then she pointed her finger at me and said, "Don't you come back. Never come back."

I didn't go back for a year, but the other post office is farther away, so I would make my husband take stuff down there or I'd go to UPS. Finally, I took the chance and she let me mail one package, then another a couple months later, and another. The last time I was there I told her her wrist tattoo was pretty, but I think she could tell I didn't mean it. We're working on our relationship, I guess. Turns out her husband owns the crap store, which answers lot of questions for me. We're taking it slow, and that's why I don't go there too often.

-Cindy

One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages

Over the course of an average day here at the bookstore, I'm reminded of how specified books have become. A survival guide for shopping at Costco? Check. A pictorial of the most preposterous tattoos ever inked? Check! How about guidelines for healing your dog through the ancient art of Reiki? Of course, check. I suppose the lesson to be learned is that there is a book suitable for every inclination, no matter how obscure. Perhaps I should not have been so shocked, then, to have found myself shelving a book that was clearly marketed towards me. Regardless, when I discovered that Ammon Shea had written Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages, it was unnervingly like catching someone peering through my bedroom window.


There is something I have always loved about underused academic lingo. I drop the word palimpsest into casual conversation. I've been known to correct people who misuse "blowzy." When a customer once asked me for a book on numismatics, I took undue pleasure in being able to lead him to our section on coin collecting. And while I recognize that there is something undeniably pretentious about such behavior, I have come to accept that it's one of those personality flaws I'll have to live with. I write with a fountain pen, too. A little pretension comes with the territory.

In a childhood attempt to be able to communicate with my obnoxiously educated father, I frequently read the Oxford Pocket Dictionary on the sly. But my dabbling in linguistics is nothing compared to Shea's completion of the full 20 volumes of the OED. Over the course of one year, the man sat down and read each and every entry; a feat he recounts with apparent good humor and self-deprecation. This is a man who risked physical health, sanity, and cohabitational tranquility for a hobby. What concerns me most about the book, however, is that my first response was one of approval, rather than alarm or ridicule. It was a reaction that allowed me to understand that my passing interest in wordplay might someday be more – I was staring down the barrel of my future midlife crisis. Later that day someone sold a Navajo dictionary into the store, and it was only the image of my looming mortgage bill that prevented me from emptying my bank account. It is, I realized, a steep and slippery slope.

I have not yet read Reading the OED, despite the fact that it has received glowing reviews from both the New York Times and the Arizona Republic. It is inevitable that I will, and I'm fairly certain I'll enjoy it. But until I feel that I can safely delve into its pages without yearning to replicate the experiment, perhaps I had better stick to something a little more benign.

-Rachel