Don't worry--I'm not going to pretend I was David Thompson's best friend. I met the man only once, at a signing I did at his home, Murder By The Book in Houston, two years ago.
But David was a friend to every author of crime fiction. And I mean that literally. He promoted and defended the genre to all, and when an author showed up in Houston and signed books at his store, David made sure every author was a star--not felt like a star.
When he died last week at the age of 38, it was a devastating, stunning blow to the solar plexus of crime fiction. It came out of nowhere, it took away one of the nicest men in the business, and it delivered a reminder of how fragile absolutely everything is. If this could happen, nothing is safe.
And nothing is.
This is not, you should know, a pile-on obituary for David Thompson. People know knew him much better have been very eloquent in their recollections and appreciations. Read, for example, this piece by Ben LeRoy of Tyrus Books, which had recently acquired David's Busted Flush Press when David died. Or read here about the upcoming memorial to David and how you can contribute to a fund set up by the wonderful Alafair Burke.
This, instead, is an appreciation of Murder By The Book. David spent 21 years at the store and it was his vision as much an anything (or more) that helped turn it into the legend that it is in the community of crime fiction. As promotion and publicity manager, he saw to it that authors came and signed books and spoke at the store. Sure, there were mystery specialty stores in New York and Los Angeles and Chicago (and Arizona, and... ), but with David's indefatigable energy, it became necessary for any mystery author to pass through Houston, Texas on a book tour.
Or even NOT on a book tour. I made the pilgrimage almost exactly two years ago, as I documented right here at DEAD GUY not long after. And if you read that over, you might conclude that I was complaining about traveling, but only because I was. You'll notice, though, that the part about Murder By The Book contains no complaints whatsoever, and is uncharacteristically giddy coming from an old grump like myself.
David and I kept up via email after that. He'd send the store's newsletter and stick a note at the top. We'd go back and forth when I had a new title on the way, David insisting I come back to Houston to do an event, and me stupidly telling him I couldn't afford the trip. You start to wonder why you didn't do things when something like this happens.
I heard from him about a week before he died. He was emailing to tell me E.J. Copperman was selling well in Houston. And he was funny and smart and just the nicest guy you ever met in this business. I didn't respond by telling him that, because we don't do that enough. We always think there will be another time, a better time.
Going to Murder By The Book, you see, isn't another "here's-a-card-table-and-we'll-see-you-in-two-hours" kind of experience, and authors remember that.
You couldn't walk into that store as a visiting author and feel any other way. The piles of books already lined up to be signed, the rows of chairs waiting for actual people to come and hear you speak. And you knew that, unlike "events" at some chain stores and unenthusiastic independents, those chairs would have PEOPLE in them when the announced time for the signing arrived. Many of those people would buy books. So would others who couldn't make it, but asked for signed copies because the staff at the store would recommend it. And the customers would buy the copy of a book from an author they might not even have known existed before, strictly on the recommendation of the store's staff. Wow.
Okay, so it's nice to be treated with respect and appreciation sometimes. But the vast knowledge of the genre, of authors and titles and trends and the publishing business, was amazing. McKenna Jordan, then David's fiancee and now his widow and the owner of Murder By The Book, is a lovely, knowledgeable, very smart presence there, and everyone I met who worked there had the same level of drive and warmth that David and McKenna exhibited.
It's important that stay.
The book business, of course, is not necessarily in the best shape it's ever been. And independent bookstores, especially those of the specialty variety, are not generally considered the fastest road to millions. But Murder By The Book needs to continue, and authors need to flock there, sign books, give talks and maybe buy a title or two.
So does everyone else. Go buy a book there if you can. If you don't live nearby, go to the store's web site and find out how to call up and order. Keep that place going. Keep other such stores going. Because people, unfortunately, don't last forever--some of them are taken from us long before we might anticipate--but stories can be eternal. David knew that. He quite literally devoted his life to it.
Good bye, David. I can't begin to say how much you'll be missed.
Dana Kaye adds:
The first time I met David in person, he hugged me and told me I was awesome. That exemplifies the type of person that he was. He held a true passion for crime fiction and was always willing to do whatever it took to promote a talented author and a well written book. He always supported me and my authors, and for that, I will be forever grateful.
There are others like David, fans and booksellers that share his spark and enthusiasm. But those people are few and far between, and I know the crime fiction community feels quite lost without him.
Since I am unable to attend his memorial on September 26th in Houston, I will purchase a new book from an independent bookstore in his honor. I’ll then read it with a margarita, his favorite drink, and toast a great advocate, bookseller, and most importantly, a great friend.
