Hey, There's A Dead Guy in the Living Room

Hail and Farewell

Jeff Cohen

So that was it. We hope you liked it.

This is the 3464th post on HEY THERE'S A DEAD GUY IN THE LIVING ROOM, and unless someone else parachutes in and decides to add some thoughts, it is the last. We've had quite a good run here but it's time to shut off the lights and lock the doors before we stop saying anything anyone wants to hear.

For me DEAD GUY has been any number of things. It started when Deni Dietz and I defected from Murderati a long, long time ago and thought we'd start our own blog, but we didn't want to examine crime fiction strictly from an author's point of view. So we recruited editors, publishers, readers, librarians, reviewers, agents and booksellers, among others, to provide perspective we as writers couldn't offer. 

I'll continue to post blogs every now and again (look next Tuesday for sure) and hope you'll look for those moments, but as for DEAD GUY, this is the end of the line, and that's because we have all agreed it's better to go out while we're still wanted and not overstay our welcome.

But it wasn't all about publishing. The rule among us at DEAD GUY was that there were no rules. If you wanted to post about your section of the crime fiction world, great. If not, go for it. I have personally posted about digitizing my vinyl record collection, interviewed my daughter, had my dog write a guest post, talked about my health issues (ad nauseam), ranted about having to master barre chords, introduced a pseudonym, shamelessly promoted my work, bragged about blurbs, discussed the importance of making attractive letters when filling in a crossword puzzle, mentioned comedians I especially admire and occasionally made dives into such popular subjects as religion and politics. I recall once explaining how to deal with the atheist on your Christmas card list.

This blog has been more than a simple repository for my random thoughts. I've made good friends here. I've managed to blow off steam or express emotional truths when I had to. It served as a steam valve when I needed it. And a couple of times it served to let me write silly song lyrics. 

The most gratifying part of the weekly post was to connect with those who decided to visit us here. Hearing from readers and other writers, among many others, was a great comfort and sometimes an ego stroke when it was most needed. Writers write because we want to communicate something. Knowing that people were taking notice was a very large help at times.

For me the schedule forced me to write whether I had a great idea in mind or not. Some of my favorite posts were those that came when I was backed against a deadline wall. 

Everyone who has ever posted here will tell you that coming up with a post every week could be a trial. It's not easy to keep going and not repeat oneself. There have been nights that I've sat here looking at a blank screen for an hour wondering what would appear on the blog page at 12:00 a.m. that Monday. The closest I've ever come to believing in "Writer's Block" has been related to these posts. But I still don't believe.

The people with whom I've been part of DEAD GUY are amazing, smart, funny, warm and dedicated. I am grateful and honored to have been associated with each and all of them. I won't mention all the names here because I'm certain to forget some and that would bother me deeply even if it wouldn't rankle those I failed to cite. But assume if you've read a post here and it wasn't one of mine that it was written by someone I admire greatly, someone who inspires awe in me. I thank each of them. 

For those who have chosen to check in here every day or every week or once a year, we can't possibly thank you enough. It has been wonderful being part of your lives. Don't mourn the DEAD GUY. We stopped because we didn't want to disappoint you. You deserve our best. We hope we've given it to you. Thanks for everything.

 

 

Oh. And pitchers and catchers report in 44 days.

Don't Be Sad... It's Just a Blog

First: Our most fervent hopes that everyone in the path of the recent terrible storms is okay and that life will return to normal soon.

But now a bittersweet announcement: Every day here at DEAD GUY we try to bring you something that can add to your day. Most often that something has to do with crime fiction publishing, as our lineup of bloggers has been constructed to know about that category. And over the past 10 we have done our best to provide every possible viewpoint on the subject.

But, as they say, whoever they are, all good things (and the rotten ones too, truth be known) must come to an end. 

As much as we've all loved being DEAD GUY bloggers, we've agreed it's time to close the proverbial doors around here. Coming up with useful, entertaining content every day has gotten to be a little too much after all this time and we want to go out while we're still at the top of our game. 

So the December 31 post will be the last one here at DEAD GUY. While it's a little sad to think this is coming to a close, we prefer to focus on the idea that we've done good work here, people have enjoyed it, and we've kept it going since January 2007, which ain't bad. 

The cast of characters has changed over the years, but never the mission: To provide perspective on writing, publishing, reading, editing, promoting and enjoying books, mostly in the crime fiction area. We're all still committed to that concept and we'll keep expressing our opinions when we feel they're relevant. Just not here at DEAD GUY after 2017 becomes 2018. 

In the ensuing months, please know we'll keep posting as we have before, so don't tune us out of your daily web scan just yet. And along the way, we'll be hearing from some DEAD GUY alums who have graciously agreed to come back for one more visit before the lights are put out and we group-hug our way to the end of the Mary Tyler Moore Show. 

Keep reading. That's what this has always been about.

No Internet: a vacation of reading and thinking

by Marilyn Thiele

I had hoped to post last week from the delightful small hotel in Antigua where my husband and I have escaped the winter for a short time every year for the last ten years. As our years of accumulating “things” have evolved into an effort to divest the junk, we give this trip to each other as our Christmas gift. We did escape on schedule, despite my bout with the flu a few days before leaving, but we escaped a bit more than we had planned.

The hotel was built in the early 1980’s by an Australian ex-pat who by that time, if his stories are to be believed (and we do believe them), had traveled around most of the world in various capacities and was now ready to settle down to a peaceful life on a Caribbean island. Tony is now 92, and we wonder every year if we will see him again. 2017 finds him incredibly healthy and still swimming early in the morning, but living now as a tenant in his apartment on the property he has sold. The realities of property management just got to be a bit too much.

Most of the staff has remained, but the investors have hired a manager for the property, as their main careers are not in real estate or hotel management. We met both the new owners and the manager. This small hotel has several patrons, who, like us, return year after year to escape the winter winds, and the new proprietors want to maintain the intimate atmosphere and traditions while modernizing to accommodate new visitors. We are relatively confidant that we will be comfortable returning in the future to what almost seems like another home.

Of course, new management looks for ways to improve efficiency, and a change in internet providers looked as if it would both improve service (never that bad in prior years) and save money. As a business owner, I know that what a sales person tells me and what customer service actually does are frequently very different. And such was the case with the internet; while we were there, it was sporadic at best. For a few minutes I could check Facebook or e-mail; then as I tried to respond, the system died for several hours. After a couple of days, I gave up my frequent checking to see if we had service. What on Day One seemed like a major annoyance became by Day Five a forgotten problem.

If I had to be cut off from the internet, this is the year when it turned out to be a benefit. We weren’t cut off from news; there was television, and both network and cable news were available. But I wasn’t compulsively checking Facebook for the “outrage of the day” or being bombarded with memes, links to snarky commentary, or predictions of the end of life as we know it. I realize that I had succumbed to the psychological syndrome that I have seen described by a few different names, but basically amounts to a constant sense of anxiety, fear, anger, and ultimately depression. I had actually been feeding this syndrome in myself by looking for the latest signals of impending disaster. After a few days, I was reading the crime fiction I love without interrupting the flow of the narrative with the flow of bad news.

As the sense of peace and perspective settled in, I was able to process what has been happening in politics with less emotional baggage. This doesn’t mean I stopped caring about the outrageous talk and behavior of our new leader and his minions, or that I don’t fear for the future. It just was a time to reflect without constantly stoking my anxiety. I was forced by circumstances to drop back a bit; and I hope now that I am back to the real world that I ration my doses of outrage more carefully.

What I realized is that outrage and anger can sometimes feel good, but that it would be beneficial if I can channel that energy into something productive. I am not a marching and demonstrating type of person, although I admire those who march and demonstrate and think it is important to show the numbers of people who object. I also realized of all the troubling commentary I have heard, the most troubling to me is the lack of knowledge by those who voted based on slogans and buzz words. We have probably all seen the interviews where people were asked if they preferred Obamacare or the Affordable Care Act, and were completely unaware that they were one and the same. One person said, when he realized that he had voted against his own interests, “I must have been living in a bubble.” Yes.

My next thoughts had to do with my own little corner of the world. I live in a very red district in a very blue state. I am careful to avoid political discussions in my shop; it just isn’t good for business. Of course, people want to talk, and politics is the overriding issue. I have been astounded that whenever a customer raises current events, it turned out that he or she is pretty much on the same page as I am. Here? In this county? Why was the vote here so red when everyone I know is blue? I had my suspicions, but it took one particular gentleman to say it out loud. Flemington is our county seat, and the town is full of lawyers. This attorney is a regular, usually shopping for books to read to his young children, and our chats were about children’s books. He is nice enough, but projects the bluster and bombast that many in his profession do. So when he brought up politics, and started railing against the current regime, I was surprised. I commented that I found it amazing how everyone who raises the issue in my shop is a liberal in this conservative county. He just said, “Of course. You meet the ones who read.” My suspicion confirmed.

I don’t really believe that all those who have opinions different from mine are not readers or thinkers. But I am convinced that there are too many people who don’t read (books, news, lengthy commentary or anything else) and are easily swayed by superficial statements that sound good but don’t hold up under any analysis.

Now comes the tough part. How does one encourage the non-readers to spend time learning on their own what our constitution means, or what the nuances of health care or climate change or immigration are? It won’t happen through disparagement or snarkiness. I have a few ideas that I plan to explore in a future post, since this one is overly lengthy already. I would welcome any suggestions about how a small bookshop in a small town can make even a small difference in getting more people to read – for the benefit of all.

What play is this?

by Marilyn Thiele

Hello everyone. You may have forgotten me, although my picture still lingers in the sidebar of the Dead Guy blog. I notice that my “position” has changed from “every other Saturday” to “some Saturdays.” Even that was very optimistic. I had reached a point where it was difficult to find new topics to write about, and Saturdays (and even the day before) are just too busy in the bookshop for any concentrated focus on a blog post. It seems that as I have aged, the practice of staying up into the wee hours to write has also become impossible, at least if I am going to produce anything coherent. I should probably have requested to leave the blog (or for a definitive leave of absence), but hope springs eternal, and I thought I would get back into the routine.  When the option of blogging earlier in the week opened with Josh’s departure, I realized it was an opportunity for a fresh start. So shortly my photo will be labeled “every other Tuesday” or “some Tuesdays,” depending on whether Jeff is as hopeful as I am.

On the plus side, in the time I have been silent, some events have occurred which give rise to new ideas. I also plan to talk more about books I am reading. My January review of 2016’s list yielded 60 books read during the year, most of them crime fiction. I see that Lynne Patrick has plans to discuss books also (Books, books and more books) and I have no desire to challenge her position as “designated reader.” In fact, her posts are often the source for the best additions to my own reading list. I doubt there will be much overlap, however, since there seem to be an ever-increasing number of great books to talk about.

I’m going to tread a bit more on Lynne’s territory by discussing an experience with theater that I had last year. I’m not a great theater-goer, but I like to support local arts venues. I was thrilled last fall when the publicist for the theater at the local community college asked if I would help them. They present plays regularly by traveling troupes of actors, and thought they might increase attendance with some “value-added” material related to the show. In this case, it was a performance of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Nile, and they wondered if I would give a talk on Agatha Christie or some related material. Hah! Give me a chance to talk about the Golden Age!

Of course, once I had enthusiastically agreed, I remembered how terrified I am of public speaking. Nonetheless, I prepared my talk and took deep breaths and hoped I could make it through the requested fifteen minutes.  The audience was anticipated to be 10 or 15; we kept bringing in chairs, until we maxed out at 50. More cause for nerves, but it was wonderful to see that much interest in the topic. As usual, once I started talking, you couldn’t shut me up, and I had to stop after 30 minutes so everyone could get to the theater next door. We even raffled off a copy of Martin Edwards’ The Golden Age of Murder (which I highly recommend to those interested in those wonderful years of classic detection and The Detection Club). There were many questions, and I was pleased to see so much curiosity about what I thought might be a little too old-fashioned for these times.

Unfortunately, old-fashioned does not describe the rendition of Agatha Christie’s work to which we were then subjected. The theater seats 300, and it was close to full. Another score for interest in the classical mystery! It would have been nice to have that interest satisfied.

Christie was adept at introducing a seemingly vast number of characters, most, if not all, of whom were potential murderers. In adapting her novel Death on the Nile into the play Murder on the Nile, she combined some characters and eliminated others, realizing that the numbers were too many for any realistic stage play. Still, it is a large cast. The company visiting our local college consisted of three actors. I have seen many small theater productions with a limited number of actors where clever costuming and timing of appearances on stage made the performance work. Here, the problem was handled by what I suppose in today’s language is called a “meta-play.”  It is London, during the Blitz, not the 1930s in Egypt. The set is a radio station presenting Dame Agatha’s work as a radio play, but bombing (noise in background, dimming lights) has kept several actors away. The three in attendance attempt to cover all of the parts, and the audience is “helped” to follow the chaos by the use of various hats, each indicating a player in the drama. Any of the actors use any of the hats; thus we have each of the actors as each of the characters at some point.

Amusing at first, the action soon became incomprehensible. I had just reread the novel, and was totally confused about which character was which, and what was going on. It dissolved into three actors running around switching hats and hurriedly mouthing lines before they had to become someone else.

At intermission, I looked at my husband and asked if he wanted to stay. Saint that he is, thinking that mysteries are my cup of tea, he said yes. When I said I’d had enough, he smiled gratefully. We adjourned to the parking lot to discuss dinner plans; as we talked, I noticed more and more people coming outside, not to enjoy the lovely afternoon, but to find their cars. We were not the only ones disappointed in our hopes to see a classic play.

I was disappointed not just for myself, but for the lost opportunity to show a bit of classic detection to those who may not be familiar with it. The theater-goers who are familiar with Christie’s work will know that this ensemble had not done her justice. I hope those unfamiliar will not give up on her. And at least 50 people got a better understanding of the classic period of mystery before the performance.

The previous year, we attended a performance of Cabaret at a small theater just across the river in Pennsylvania. The “artistic director” was known to be creative, but I felt he created the show I was familiar with right out of existence (well, except for the music).  As I said earlier, I’m not a regular theater-goer and don’t keep up with what’s happening in this area of the arts. I just enjoy a good show. Is taking a well-known work and “re-creating” it a new trend? Am I so old-fashioned in wanting to appreciate the original work and not the director’s “take” on it? I think it may be time to just watch the old films when I want to see Hercule.

See Me at Moonstone!

Jeff Cohen/E.J. Copperman

Tuesday night, October 4, I'll be "appearing" (as if out of thin air) at Moonstone Books/Twice Told Tales in Flemington NJ at 7 p.m. I/we will be signing THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND and any other books you buy from our good friend Marilyn that evening (but just the ones I wrote--you can't get me to sign the new Bruce Springsteen book). So if you're even near the area, please drop on by! Here's the info.

The New Bookstore in Town

Marilyn Thiele

Well, I’ve tried to ignore it but it won’t go away. I’ve tried thinking that sooner or later things would go too far, the monster would flounder and sink under the weight of its own inflated ego and its attempts to be the answer to all problems. Or everyone would just get disgusted with the constant barrage of its intrusion into every aspect of our daily lives. Donald Trump? No, he’s not going away either, but my topic here is Amazon (my fingers cramped even typing that!) and specifically its adventure into bricks and mortar bookselling.

I find it amusing that several years ago Jeff Bezos vowed that he would do away with the paper book; it was a technology past its time, and by now everyone would be reading on electronic devices. Apparently that hasn’t worked out to his plan; people have this stubborn attachment to the look, feel and even smell of these antiquated contraptions. They like to collect them. They like to share them with their friends. They like to decorate with them. Not only that, they like to buy them in actual shops from booksellers who listen to them, guide them, and love books as much as they do. Thus paper books are still here, and bookshops are beginning to thrive again.

A (can I just call it that? I’m having a hard enough time thinking about them!), being A, cannot let any area of commerce exist without trying to dominate it. Even if it meant conceding that paper books are not going to be shelved (pardon the pun) anytime soon, they saw that there was a growing trend toward physical bookstores, so they had to open one too. Last November, their first shop opened in Seattle, and it appears that there will shortly be another in San Diego. Although the rumor that they were planning ultimately to have 400 or more physical bookshops turned out to be hype by an owner of multiple malls with vacancies, it does appear that there are plans to expand the franchise.

As I did some searching to find out how this first bookshop from the behemoth that has worked so hard to put me and my kind out of business was being received, I turned to another mystery bookshop owner’s blog. JB Dickey, of the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, has over the years been much more outspoken (and much more articulate) than I about his near neighbor. In searching the archives of his blog, I was momentarily confused. No category for A? Ah, I should have known. It’s under “SPECTRE.”

SPECTRE could not be a more apt name. It is in every aspect of commerce that I can think of. Books, of course, where they started. Food. Clothing. Housewares. Television. Electronics. Cloud computing. Smart phones. Furniture. Jewelry. Toys. Publishing. If they don’t sell it, they control other on-line retailers who do. Last month, Bloomberg News reported on A’s project “Dragon Boat,” a fulfillment service that would control delivery of goods from factories in China and India to doorsteps in the United States, the UK, and elsewhere. So UPS, FedEx, and even China’s Alibaba will have a new competitor. Why would I ever think that they would leave book retailing in shops out of the empire?

This all may sound like the rant of a frustrated small retailer trying to survive in a new economy. And some of it is. I see the view of the other side. What’s wrong with economies of scale leading to lower prices? Why should a busy person trek all over hell’s half acre when she can sit home with a cup of tea, or something stronger, and shop for all her needs? Why shouldn’t a less well known author whose books might never make it onto the radar of the buyer at a little independent shop have a chance to be reviewed to death and sell books to the whole country? And honestly, I am getting older and am not going to be selling books here forever. As far as I know, A, or SPECTRE, has no plans to put a competing store in Flemington, New Jersey, or anywhere close by. My customer base is growing as people tire of the on-line “recommendations” based on some programmer’s analysis of people’s preferences. But I still harbor some fears.

Reading some of the commentary on A’s first foray into bricks and mortar bookselling initially gave me some hope that they might actually fail for once. (Well, not for the first time; there was the Fire Phone). Books are stocked based on the same algorithms that are used in the on-line store. SPECTRE knows what you should read. All the books on display have 4 or 5 star ratings online. No obscure title recommended by the bookseller which turns out to be the best book you read all year. The personal touch is still lacking. There are actually fewer titles than one would find in a typical independent bookshop. Books are all displayed face out, ten or more deep. No crawling down to the lower shelves to find those hidden treasures all book lovers dream of. (I might mention here that, had I the space, I would display all my books face out. But that one copy of what I may actually consider a mistake I made in ordering is spine out, on a lower shelf. A prize to be unearthed by some lucky browser.) You would be amazed at how many people spend time going through all the shelves where the spines are the only part of the book in view. Rather than handwritten shelf talkers from the bookseller’s own knowledge, Amazon and Good Reads reviews are printed for each title. I could write another post solely on what I think of the value of these online ratings and reviews. Authors have asked for reviews saying just do one, doesn’t matter what it says, it’s the numbers that count. Many reviews are by people who openly state that they haven’t read the book! If someone tells me a book has 5 stars on A, my response is “So?” (For the record, I never review on A, and gave up Good Reads when they became part of the Empire of A. I also do not sell books published by A.)

All of that sounds very encouraging for us independent booksellers. Most of it came from articles or posts written by booksellers. I think they are whistling past the graveyard. A is not known for perpetuating its mistakes. They can always hire all the unemployed booksellers at slave wages to give their monopoly the aura of the personal touch, and rearrange their shelves to look more “homey.” If I sound bitter, it’s because I fear that A will do everything in its power to be sure it is the sole source of books.

One interesting aspect of the A book store is that there are no prices on the books. The customer can find out the price either by using an APP on his phone, or by scanning the bar code at a kiosk. More data to feed the algorithms. Not only do they know what you buy, but what you thought about buying. Certainly A is not the only company gathering data from every move we make; all I have to do is look at the ads tailored to me on Facebook, or Google, or any other online service I use to see that my every action is recorded. When I do a Google search, I don’t get a complete picture of the topic, I get what the algorithm thinks might interest me. But I am a perverse human being, and my purpose in searching may not be what they think it is. Will a monopoly bookseller offer only what a computer algorithm thinks is what you want? Will those serendipitous finds disappear forever? Or, worst of all, will books that aren’t “good” for us, which cause us to think independently or even rebelliously, be hidden from view?

Don't Persuade! Attack!

It’s that slow time of year. After the holiday rush, January and February are a drag. It may be a great time to stay inside and read, but I think most people are catching up on the “to-be-reads” or wallowing in all the gift books they received. Skies are gray; cold and wind are not the ideal conditions for shoppers to stroll our lovely little town looking at the cute boutiques.

Despite the overall dullness, there has been a lot of excitement in this little town of mine. Not the kind that brings tourists – the kind that pits otherwise nice, sane residents and business owners against one another. It’s not even a clear “residential versus business” battle; it’s a clash of outrageous personalities, fed by the opportunity to vent ad infinitum on social media, and those who line up on each side based on half-truths and untruths meant to sway – who? Sounds a lot like our national political situation, doesn’t it?

The details of the controversy are too convoluted to be explained in a blog post, and would only be read by those of you who have run out of Ambien. Whichever side is right or wrong, life will go on. What concerns me is that the resolution of the issues in dispute will have less impact than the way the debate was waged. Some parties took to Facebook, in local “groups” formed to convey information (e.g., “When is the power coming back on?” (Not even the electric company knows); “Why is the highway closed?” (Another trucker went through a New Jersey circle at high speed, load shifted); “Who knows a good dermatologist?” (Not me)) and used these groups as forums to personally attack others who disagreed with them. These were not anonymous trolls trying to be snarky or hurtful because they had nothing better to do with their time. These were clearly identified residents, business owners, and town officials. The controversy will subside, but I am not sure the damage can be undone.

In all fairness, most of those who were attacked refrained from responding in kind, and wrote only about their views on the matter at hand. Those of us who stayed out of the fray but read avidly formed opinions about the attackers that were more telling than any of the points they were trying to make about their targets, and gained new respect for those we were being told were idiots. I find it hard to believe that those graceful “idiots” who seemed to slough off the insults weren’t deeply hurt. The targets may not respond in kind or seek revenge, but I don’t see how they will ever view their tormentors as people they can trust or work with in the future.

What’s happening at the national level is troubling to me, but I am not impacted in my daily doings by the nastiness. I just turn off the news and pray that the sane majority turns out to vote in November. The local controversy, though, has gotten me thinking about what really is happening in our world. We seem to have all sorts of programs in the schools to teach the young that bullying is wrong. If a student in our high school had posted about a fellow student in the vitriolic tone that some adults in this community used, he or she would be subject to all sorts of discipline. Are we teaching them that it’s OK to do this when you’re an adult? Children learn from the way we behave, not from lectures on good behavior. Yet the abusive behavior is rampant in the media (even without the politicians). Reality shows seem to glorify “getting over” on someone, or at least out-shouting them. Ditto the talking heads on the news networks supposedly presenting opposing views, but actually trying be the loudest and most noticed. As the war for ratings continues, the ante is upped daily. The only good part is that the talking without listening, and at the same time, leads to such cacophony that nothing is heard by the viewer.

It does seem that the atmosphere of attack that we live in has actually convinced some otherwise intelligent people that the way to achieve one’s goals is to assault, at least verbally, anyone in the way, even if that “anyone” happens to have the authority to stop you in your tracks. I sat at a town council meeting Monday evening where the issue at hand was whether to disband the business development group that has been doing good work, but has refused to be accountable to the town council which is funding it with tax dollars. Many parties spoke for each side, and the council members listened, even extending the time for public comment until everyone was heard. I was appalled when one of the trustees of the business development group, who had been told in an earlier gathering of supporters of his own position that he should not speak because his Facebook posts had made him toxic, got up. As he attempted to plead his case to those who would decide, he made a nasty personal comment to one of the council members, whom he had attacked relentlessly online, and who had not responded to him, and followed it up with a “gotcha” grin. He seemed surprised when the vote went against him. Does anyone really believe that if your snark is clever enough, you’ll be rewarded?

Several commenters at this meeting suggested mediation as an alternative to disbanding a group which has done some fine work. Sadly, things had reached a state similar to many couples on the brink of divorce; there is so much anger that any counseling or mediation is impossible. This anger was fueled by the examples we see daily of winning by bullying and the ease with which this can be accomplished on social media. Instead of telling my friends in conversation what a jerk I think my neighbor is, I can now tell the entire community. I win! I show how clever I am by humiliating someone I have to live near and work with. And then wonder why nothing gets done.

On a brighter note, there was another major issue decided at Monday evening’s town council meeting, and this one with little controversy. An aging historic hotel in the center of town has been vacant for eight years, and has gone through two unsuccessful attempts to redevelop it. Despite the display of childish behavior by some of our citizens over the last few months, a developer presented beautiful plans which seem to have a chance of succeeding. He also has the resources to accomplish it. The lovely old building will be leveled, but it has been so neglected it’s about to fall down. Sentiment over the years has been to preserve it, but even those of us who love old landmarks have faced the reality that it cannot be saved and has become an eyesore dragging down the main street. Sentiment at the meeting was to mourn our loss but move on. There was actually a lot of mature adult behavior in this case. I guess there is hope! (If you want to see where all the famous reporters stayed during the Lindbergh trial, visit Flemington soon. Or you can see where the photographers did their work by visiting my shop.)

Happy New Year -- and Thank You

Marilyn Thiele

Although I always like (and need) opportunities for a new beginning, a fresh start, I, like Lynne Patrick, have long ago given up on “resolutions.” It’s a setup for guilt, as she pointed out in her New Year’s Eve post. Instead, I find that looking back over the previous year is a good way to sort out changes that can be made in the new one: Mistakes made that can be avoided next time around, things tried that succeeded and can be done even better, friendships in which more time can be invested, family who should be taken a bit less for granted.

Pondering the previous year with the intent of improving my behavior in the next one yields a strange result. Yes, I realize my shortcomings, procrastination, impatience, etc. But instead of guilt I wind up with gratitude. I have good health, supportive friends, a loving family, and am doing work I love.

A situation that developed late in the year in one community of which I am a part called my attention to another area ripe for some gratitude. Our small town, struggling to revitalize itself after years of neglect, empty storefronts, and failed attempts to turn things around, decided a few years ago to form a Business Improvement District, an entity sanctioned by New Jersey law, a partnership between the business community and the municipal government and funded by an extra tax levied on commercial property owners and businesses. Much progress has been made, but there has also been much controversy. Disagreement is to be expected in such undertakings, but at the end of this year the budget process brought out the worst in everyone. Discussion degenerated to name calling; personal attacks unrelated to the issues were rampant. The vitriol was appalling, and a great deal of it played out on Facebook, even in groups that in the past were repositories of advice on pet sitters and which farm stand had the best fresh corn. I will spare you more detail; suffice it to say that it was the dark side of social media, of which I had heard but which I had not previously seen.

My Facebook usage is somewhat limited. My “friends” are people I want to keep in touch with, real friends, family, more recently a group of high school friends and acquaintances who have found each other again through the wonders of modern technology. I join groups in the local community, and follow the other businesses in town. And, of course, there are the “friends” who are mystery authors or active in the mystery community, some of whom I actually know and many of whom I know only online. It is this last group of friends that I realized presented such a stark contrast to the posts I was seeing from the angry local groups and individuals. During December, I began scrolling past anything involving the local dispute to get to the good stuff: “Best of 2015” lists with ideas for future reading, posts by authors promoting forthcoming works by other authors, comments of encouragement and support for people struggling and good wishes for those with good news to share. The effort made on behalf of our own Erin Mitchell by so many is the greatest example of how this community functions. If anything negative or destructive is floating around in this mystery community, I didn’t see it. It restored my faith in people and their desire to support and encourage others.

As to my local business community, I think that cooler heads are beginning to prevail, and that the truly vicious and destructive sorts are now being marginalized. I expect 2016 to be better now that everyone has vented. There may even be a budget passed. Comparing the two communities over the last months of 2015 leads me right to the gratitude.

Thank you, everyone for allowing me to be a tiny part of this wonderful mystery community. Happy New Year.

Shop Small - We Can Help

Marilyn Thiele

I don’t know how “Black Friday,” which seems to have started two or three weeks ago this year, turned out for the major retailers who were open late into the night on Thursday and well before sunrise on Friday. Those of us who don’t particularly want our doors busted or blown out were sleeping and then preparing for OUR day, Small Business Saturday. And in our town, at least, it was a success. The municipal lots and streets were full. The warm weather didn’t hurt. And books were flying off the shelves in the town’s only bookshop.

I’m a bit tired, but I thought I could keep up the momentum to write this if I continued to do what I’ve done all day: make some recommendations for the special reader in your life. Here are some of the questions I was asked, and my answers.

What book did you read recently and really love?

All the Light You Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize and forever on the New York Times bestseller list, but that wasn’t why I read it. It was the constant praise from my most trusted critics, my customers, that convinced me that I should leave the confines of crime fiction temporarily. There is plenty of suspense, but it will appeal to lovers of history, lovers of compelling characters, lovers of exquisite writing, and lovers of complex plotting. It pretty much has it all. The story takes place in France in the years leading up to World War II and during the occupation, when Marie-Laure, a blind Parisian child and her father must flee to the coastal town of Saint-Malo. A parallel tale unfolds in Germany, where Werner Pfennig, a young orphan, is forced to work in the mines until he is old enough to join the army. Their paths ultimately cross shortly after the Normandy invasion. Hands down the best book I’ve read all year.

What would you recommend for a fan of Game of Thrones / Outlander / Harry Potter who has read all of the books and craves more?

Game of Thrones: For someone you really, really love, a companion volume, The World of Ice and Fire. This book was available in late 2014, but is still a wonderful gift for this year. It is a fully illustrated history of Westeros, with newly written material, family trees, maps and artwork. It is also $50. For those on your list budgeted for a bit less, the Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss is a good way to fill the time waiting for George R. R. Martin’s next tome. The first two volumes of the trilogy are available; as with Martin, the next book will be out….sometime.

Outlander: The Outlandish Companion to the early books in the series has been around for several years; there is now a second volume to complement the later books. Again, these companion books are for the larger budget. Diana Gabaldon’s fans usually enjoy her other series about Lord John Grey, The Private Matter, The Brotherhood of the Blade, The Scottish Prisoner, and The Hand of Devils.

Harry Potter: The children who grew up with these books are now twenty-somethings. Or more. But for many of them, the magic is still alive. This fall , a gorgeous illustrated edition of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was released. It is definitely for the adult to whom the series has become a classic and a touchstone of his or her childhood. Don’t forget that there is a whole new generation of children for whom the original series would be a wonderful gift.

Is there some serious fiction about relationships that hasn’t fallen into the self-reflecting “insider” trap or the metafiction sinkhole? Something one can just read for itself?

Some days it seems we need to look beyond the American “literary” authors for a fresh take on life. My current recommendation is a series, The Neapolitan Novels by an Italian author, Elena Ferrante. They tell the story of two intelligent girls from Naples and their struggles to create their own lives in a smothering culture. (My Brilliant Friend, The Story of a New Name , Those Who Leave And Those Who Stay, and The Story of the Lost Child). These translations are from Europa Editions, which is bringing a great deal of European fiction, including mysteries, to American readers. I recommend many of their books to my customers.

I’m losing the momentum, and have written too much, without having even gotten to the crime fiction I’m promoting this holiday season. Next time, all crime novels, I promise.

Two more promotions before I close:

The next Haunted Guesthouse mystery from a dear friend of our fellow Dead Guy Jeff Cohen, will be available on Tuesday, December 1. Ghost in the Wind by E. J. Copperman.

Remember your local independent bookstores this holiday season. With knowledgeable booksellers ready to help you choose the best gift book for every reader on your list, the ability to order almost any book, and a love of the merchandise they sell, they should be your first shopping stop. The pleasant experience will make the other shopping more bearable.

We're Really Not Kidding. Help!

Josh Getzler

I'm away from my desk today, so I asked Jeff to put up again his post looking for support for our fellow Dead Guy, Erin Mitchell. It's plenty important enough that you can wait a week to hear about why you shouldn't write in the passive voice or curse in middle grade books, or whatever else I was coming up with today. Back next week. Go Mets (Yes, I said that--maybe my next post will be defending my right to say that after having worked with the Yankees for 9 years--or maybe it's obvious from that!)

We here at DEAD GUY are taking today to urge you to donate to what we believe is the worthiest cause on the planet.

Our very own Erin Mitchell.

As she has documented quite eloquently, Erin's been having some pretty serious health issues, and as anyone in the United States knows about such things, it has not been inexpensive. She is self-insured, so the bills are mounting pretty staggeringly. We believe Erin should not have to shoulder the burden alone while she's dealing with so much at the same time.

So there is a grassroots (that is to say, crowdsourcing) movement to try and help, which was set up by Ellen Clair Lamb. Many have contributed (including some on this blog), and if you are able to do so, we'd urge you to send what you can.

Anyone who has read Erin's posts here or encountered her elsewhere know she is an amazing woman, one whose wit and general good humor coexist with strong views and a sense of right and justice. She is being dealt a hand she doesn't deserve, and the overwhelming cost of health care in America should not be something she has to contend with when she's fighting a much more important fight. 

If you can spare a few bucks, we'd appreciate it if you would take a look. If you can't, why not comment below and let Erin know how much you like reading her here on DEAD GUY or elsewhere. In fact, why not do both?

She's already overwhelmed with a situation. Let's overwhelm her with how much people care.

We do. You get well soon, Erin. We want you back here on Fridays.

Taken hostage by "Hostage Taker"

Marilyn Thiele

Boucherccon has come and gone, and I had the usual wonderful time seeing old friends and meeting new people. What is unusual is that one of my better memories is the book I was reading just before and during the first few days. I had a copy of Stefanie Pintoff’s Hostage Taker in August, but one demand or another kept me from it. In truth, the fact that even my advance copy was a hardcover kept me from it; I carry a book wherever I go, and hardcovers are too heavy. I wait to read them until I can sit quietly at home, which just didn’t happen over this summer. I wanted to read it before I saw Stefanie at Bouchercon, so I started it a before I left. A friend who was driving to Raleigh was taking the books I wanted to have signed, and I didn’t want to carry the heavy hardcover on the plane. But I didn’t want to wait to finish. I have always said there is a use for that e-book technology: I put it on my iPad, and was able to go on. Much as I dislike reading books on a screen, this one was too good to let anything interfere. I would have read it on stone tablets if that was all that was available.

Saint Patrick’s Cathedral has been taken over by someone whose identity and motives are unknown. Worshippers unfortunate enough to have arrived for an early morning mass have been taken hostage. The authorities become aware of the situation when a woman comes outside silently holding a sign: “HELP ME”.  Shortly, there is a red dot on her forehead, followed by a bullet.

Eve Rossi, an FBI hostage negotiator who has been on leave following the death of her stepfather, is called in. She is wrestling with her loss, and is reluctant. The unknown hostage taker is also holding the cathedral hostage; he has wired every entrance with explosives, and a beloved landmark is at risk along with innocent lives. Eve’s superiors feel she is the only one who can handle this crisis.

Eve had assembled a “Vidocq” team (named after a 19^th century French thief who turned himself in for a pardon and the opportunity to catch other thieves) in the past. They are a group of misfits, computer hackers, drug dealers, explosive experts and thieves who have been saved from the consequences of their crimes by using their skills to undo other criminals. Hastily recalled from their current nefarious pursuits by Eve, they come together as an antagonistic but effective squad to figure out the who, why and how of the crisis in order to retake the cathedral and save the hostages.

Pintoff previously wrote an award winning series of novels set in Manhattan in the early 20^th century. In addition to the deft plotting and fine character development, these books were notable for meticulous research. The city of that time is described from the upper echelons to the slums; people, places, and things from that era come alive. Pintoff’s research skills have not waned, and we learn about both the history and the current state of St. Patrick’s as the Vidocq team seeks a way in. (Maps included.)

This novel is so compelling that at one point, as the authorities announce an imminent press conference, I found myself standing up to turn on the television. The pacing is close to perfect; just as the tension becomes close to unbearable in one team member’s task, we are switched to another, where the pressure builds again.

Hostage Taker is the first of a new series. What keeps a reader coming back to a series is fascinating characters whose lives we want to follow beyond their current adventure. Pintoff has created those characters and left us with open questions about their future. Will Eve stay in her stepfather’s home and overcome the memories? What exactly was her stepfather, a CIA agent, involved in? Is there a romantic future between her and Haddox, one of the team members?  Will Garcia, another colleague, succumb to PTSD and alcohol? All of the characters have amazing skills and debilitating liabilities. Where will these qualities take them next? I can’t wait for Whistleblower, the next in the series.

Why should I believe you?

Marilyn Thiele

Years ago, a friend made a comment about my plans to grow the little used bookshop I had bought into something more substantial. She lived in Manhattan and was an avid reader, back in the day when Manhattan had an ample supply of independent bookshops; she was friends with the owners or managers of several shops. Her comment: “Booksellers never have time to read the books, only the reviews.”

At the time, I thought this couldn’t be true. Years later, I think of the statement frequently as I gaze around my shop at the abundance of volumes that I don’t have time to read. My threat on days when I feel particularly frustrated is that I will lock the doors for a year and just read! Unfortunately, I might find my customer base severely diminished when I unlock.

Like all blanket statements, this one has a basis in truth but is not absolutely true. I, and most booksellers, read quite a bit. The problem is that even if I took a solid year and did nothing else, I would not be able to keep up with all that is published. Yet I am faced daily with choices to make for filling my shelves with all those books I will probably never read. What is a trustworthy way of making the choice?

Bestseller lists are useful, not necessarily because these are the most worthy books, but because they will sell, and the bills have to be paid. And so I stock things I may consider frivolous. Every community is different, so even what the New York Times or Publishers Weekly tells me is selling elsewhere may languish here. The trick is to listen to the conversations in the shop, not only what customers ask for, but what they say to each other. (Yes, I eavesdrop.)

What about all the fine work that never makes it to these “bestseller” lists, those books that might not be found except for the opportunity to browse in a real shop or the recommendation of the bookseller? Since we can’t read them all, how do we choose what to stock and what to recommend? Often, a selection is made because a customer whose opinion I value has commented favorably on a work. And yes, I spend a lot of time reading reviews.

I had planned to write this week about reviews even before reading Erin’s post yesterday. I was thinking of the usefulness (or not) of reviews from a bookseller’s, not an author’s, perspective. But whether one is an author or a bookseller, or a reader looking for guidance, I think the key is remembering what your mother probably told you when you received negative comments as a child: “Consider the source.”

There are reviewers whose opinions I respect because I have read many of their reviews, and tend to agree with them. There are others I ignore because they seem to delight in finding the flaws in a work. If I am considering stocking a book, or a series, I try to read as many reviews as I can, to see if there is a consensus pro or con.

If I don’t know any of the reviewers, another factor comes into play. This post was actually inspired by an incident in my shop this week. I saw an ad for a YA series with which I was unfamiliar but which looked interesting. My younger patrons are always looking for something new. I asked Dani, my younger and more-in-touch-with-that-group assistant, what she thought. She was also unaware of the series, but did a little research. Her final judgment: “The reviews are generally good, and all the bad ones are by people who can’t spell or write a sentence.”

Very simply, if you can’t handle the basics of the language, you lose credibility no matter how insightful your thoughts on a topic may be. If you don’t know the basics, then it’s doubtful that you’ve read enough to comment meaningfully on someone’s work. If you know the conventions but choose to ignore them, either out of laziness or rebellion, your goal is something other than meaningful communication with your reader.

I have pretty much given up on getting annoyed at common errors, although dangling modifiers frequently elicit a chuckle.  Many writers on blogs, review sites, and other on-line forums feel that the details of grammar or spelling are insignificant as long as the reader understands the meaning. Fine. But this casualness has progressed in some cases to incomprehensibility. There is a reason for the rules; they give us a way of expressing our thoughts in something other than a jumble of words. If I have to read a sentence three times and still cannot figure out what it means, I conclude that the writer has nothing of interest to say. Unfortunately, I have run across this problem even in newspapers and periodicals where one would expect some editing to have occurred. Again, I’m not talking about common errors of grammar, but unintelligibility. Small errors make me a bit skeptical about the writer’s intelligence; an unfathomable sentence causes me to dismiss the entire review (or blog post, or whatever). Sloppy writing is, to me, a sign of sloppy thinking.

Yes, I read reviews. But I consider the source. If my first impression is negative, it’s on to the next review. And your opinion didn’t count.

 

A Summer with Friends, Old and New

Marilyn Thiele

I am always rearranging my to-be-read pile, or list. Sometimes it’s just because what I planned to read next is less appealing than something new. Frequently, it’s because books I must, or feel I should, read need to be completed by a deadline. With two reading groups a month at the shop and my own commitment to read authors’ work before they visit here, there seems to be a constant time pressure. I often think of a comment by a customer who said, “I’d love to have a bookshop; when it’s not busy, it would be wonderful to sit with a cup of tea and read.” I do that, because I have a contingent of elves who come in at night and do the bookkeeping, pay the bills, get the payroll out and ensure that the shelf displays are freshened up and well-stocked with the latest new releases and perennial favorites. On off nights, they order supplies and peruse catalogs and reviews for future ordering. They also keep up with the shop’s e-mail newsletter, Facebook page, and local publicity for book signings. Thus my slow days in the shop can be filled with pleasurable reading.

Our reading groups take the summer off, and I didn’t have any author events scheduled after early July. I decided that this summer, despite its being the busiest time of the year, I was going to read only what struck my fancy, “shoulds” be damned. I’ve had several weeks of following my own whims. This week, a conversation with a customer seeking advice on her next reading selections focused my attention on the pattern of my own choices. It’s all about the characters.

The customer had stumbled across a couple of cozy series, unaware that this was a “category.” She said she enjoyed the solving of the “puzzles,” but her real pleasure was in following the characters and their lives. She had finished all of the books in each series, and was ecstatic when I suggested several other authors she would enjoy. She didn’t want to be limited to the “cozy” subgenre, and was happy with other suggestions of series where she could enjoy a good mystery AND follow the lives of the protagonists and their family and friends. In other words, there could be violence or not, professional or amateur detectives, police inspectors or lawyers, as long as there was a backstory continued from book to book.

As I joyfully shared my pleasure in various series, I realized that my own “free choice” reading was based on the same desire. We discussed how picking up the next book was like visiting old friends. We wanted to know how it turned out: not the solution to the murder, but the next step in the detective’s life. The plots are quickly forgotten. The turmoil in a romantic relationship, or the difficulties with family or friends, or incidents from the past disrupting current life, are the suspenseful elements that keep the reader coming back. If the reader cares about the protagonist, she wants more glimpses of his or her life. She feels part of it. Even when I have been away from a series for several years (usually because there are just too many, with too little time), I find that reading the next book is like seeing old friends who’ve been away. You pick up where you left off. Except I can never remember who committed the last murder; I want to know what was decided about that career change.

Right now I am reading The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith (aka J. K. Rowling). I find that although I am curious about which of the multiple suspects is the murderer, I am much more caught up in the relationship between Cormoran Strike and his assistant Robin, wondering when he will truly appreciate her detecting skills. And whether there will be a romance. I am also working my way through Robert B. Parker’s Jesse Stone series. Again, the plots are great, and move quickly, but Jesse’s struggle with alcohol and his tortured relationship with his ex-wife are what cause me to pick up the next in the series. I have learned that when reading a series like this, which has been around for a while and has many entries, it is best to space out the books with others in between. Even the best writers have a pattern to their novels, which becomes evident and a little boring when several are read without a break.

Why did I choose the Jesse Stone series? Because I really want to read Reed Farrell Coleman’s continuation of Parker’s character, but like most series readers, I want to start from the beginning. After all, if you are going to invest in these fictional lives as if they were friends, you want to know the whole story from the beginning. Any good novel stands on its own, and most writers are quite clever at subtly supplying any backstory information that is necessary to the current plot, but to really incorporate the characters into the reader’s life, the complete picture must be seen.

 And so now, here, a bookseller’s complaint: it seems that publishers don’t understand the series reader’s mindset. I understand the constraints of the bottom line, and the expense of keeping books in print. But when I see that the third in a series is out print, while the first two are not, I am convinced that the computer is making decisions without human assistance. If volume 3 has low sales, it’s gone. All those who bought books 1 and 2 are out of luck, unless booksellers happen to have used or unsold new copies. To me, this is counterintuitive – but algorithms are not recognized for their intuition. The most frequent buyer of the latest release in a series is the reader who has read the others and is anxiously awaiting (suspense!) new developments in the character’s life. If you want new readers for the series, the early entries ought to be available. And many readers HATE electronic books. It’s not the answer. In some cases, the early series entries are Print-on-Demand at an exorbitant price. When selling a reader on a series, I find it ridiculous to tell them that they should buy a $21.99 paperback which is often of poor quality. So they choose something else – there’s plenty out there.

I have deliberately stopped reading some series. If the main character doesn’t grow and change, there is no interest in what will happen next. I hear this complaint from readers in my shop; it’s become boring because the character never learns anything, and keeps doing the same things. It was funny for a while --- but. There is also a problem when the reader dislikes the protagonist. All interesting characters have flaws, and readers identify with that. Dealing with and overcoming those flaws is what keeps the book-to-book suspense going. Sometimes, though, the reader just can’t develop any interest in or empathy with the series lead. I have read five entries in a popular series and realized I was only reading it because everyone I knew liked it. I dislike the character, and have given up. This situation is personal to each reader, and not a reflection on the author; we all have things we just can’t stand, even when it bothers no one else. And I hear from readers all the time that characters I love are not to their taste. Hey, it would be a boring world if we all liked the same thing, and there’s more than enough to read.

My summer of indulging my reading whims has shown me that when it comes to pure pleasure, I prefer to be with old friends. I start new series in the hope of finding people with whom I will become old friends. Settings, dialogue, plot, style and all the other characteristics of good writing influence which series a reader is drawn to, but if the characters aren’t developing, growing and changing with life’s experiences, she is unlikely to continue reading. It’s what gives the series life.

 

 

Guidance for Readers

Marilyn Thiele

Last Sunday’s New York Times Book Review featured an interview with Sue Grafton, one of my favorite authors and a genuinely charming person. I love reading interviews with her because of her frankness and humor. She tells it like it is without being nasty or snarky. An interview about her own reading habits was a highlight of my Sunday reading.

Her response to one question triggered a little pondering of my own experiences. When asked if she belonged to a book club, Grafton was characteristically blunt, saying she can’t stand the idea and doesn’t want anyone else dictating her reading. I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment; before I owned my shop, I attempted to join a few such groups, and dropped out quickly. I hate the idea of “having to” read anything. Yet now there are two book clubs at my shop, and I participate in both. Currently both are on “summer break” and I am reveling in choosing my books without the looming deadline of a meeting.

Why do I do what I don’t like? Initially, it was a simple marketing idea, and it works well. Customers like the idea of a bookshop that sponsors reading groups, even if they don’t participate. Those who have joined (and stayed) have become regular shoppers here, and for more than the chosen book club offerings. It’s not necessary that I participate, but I have found that the benefits to myself, not the shop, outweigh the discomfort of forcing myself to read something my own whim hasn’t taken me to, and in an imposed time frame. I can feel virtuous about reading Catherine the Great, which would have remained in my “to be read” pile until death did us part. And I enjoyed it. Being pushed outside my default mode of reading of crime fiction has led to some truly enjoyable experiences. The books are not “imposed,” since the groups decide by consensus what to read. If someone objects strongly, we choose something else.

The main benefit, though, is the discussion. Both groups (and there is a heavy overlap of membership) enjoy talking about books: themes, settings, characters, plots. And each person seems to come up with observations that no one else had made. It’s almost like reading the book twice, with new insights the second time. The opportunity to discuss books with other avid, discerning readers is worth all the angst associated with the necessity of finishing a book on a schedule.

Which leads me to Grafton’s elaboration on her answer, posing her own question: “…what the heck is the point of those study guides at the end of so many novels? Are publishers assuming we’re so dimwitted that we can’t arrive at our literary judgments without the benefit of a list of muddle-headed grade-school questions?”

Alas, like so much in this world, the answer is again - marketing. Book clubs are big business. I have become familiar with several in our area simply because the members shop here. If someone I know is in a book club requests a certain title, I ask if it is for the group. If so, I know it’s best to order multiple copies, because other group members will appear shortly. Some clubs prepare their reading lists months in advance, and share the lists with me so that I am ready when they are. Others, like ours, plan a few months ahead and often rearrange the order based on circumstances (e.g., our mystery group tries to read Anthony nominees in late spring and early fall, since most of the members plan to attend Bouchercon).

In some book clubs, the members are each asked to suggest two or three titles at a special planning meeting, and explain why they think those books are good choices. Frequently, someone is in my shop browsing, trying to come up with ideas for her group. And never once have I seen a choice made because the words “Reader’s Guide inside!” are printed on the cover. The customer will pick the brain of the knowledgeable (but humble) bookseller; she will randomly pick up the books on display; and, most often, she will focus on books “a friend said was really good.” Yes, folks, word-of-mouth is still a compelling force in the book world. The searcher will read the jacket copy, the first few paragraphs, and perhaps scan through the rest of the book. The “Reader’s Guide” gets no attention in the process.

Why then are these “guides” being added, usually to the trade paperback edition of a book that did well in hardcover? I can only assume that publishers want to position these books as suitable for book clubs to increase sales of the paperback edition. Most book clubs do not read novels until they are in paperback; the library has limited copies and the groups try to be considerate of the members’ wallets. Every book club I am aware of will be buying All the Light You Cannot See the month it is released in paperback, and it won’t matter if someone takes the time to add a “Reader’s Guide.” Word-of-mouth has done the job.

It may be that the “Reader’s Guide Inside” label helps sell books elsewhere; I am speaking only from my own experience. Are these guides really as bad as Grafton says? Actually, the quality varies. I have seen some that do seem to be exam questions for 8^th-graders. Others seem to focus on drawing parallels between the novel and the reader’s own experiences. Few focus on settings, or characters, or themes, although the better ones do. I have tried reading the guide before the book when I am having a hard time motivating myself to begin. They frequently contain spoilers, so beware. Our own book groups rarely reference the guide, if there is one. We have too much to say on our own, and this seems to be true of most book clubs in this area.

Recently, publishers have been including author “interviews” in addition to the list of questions about the book. These are much more interesting and useful. I randomly picked up from my shelves the recently released trade paperback edition of We Are Not Ourselves by Matthew Thomas. (This was truly random, and I am not picking on one particular book or publisher.) Reader’ Guide question: “Connell attends one of Ed’s classes in order to complete a school assignment. Describe Connell’s experience in the classroom….” Conversation with Matthew Thomas question: “It’s apparent that Ed loves teaching and that, until his illness manifests itself, he’s widely respected by both his students and colleagues. How did your own experience in the classroom inform Ed’s character?” I know which question would generate more interest and discussion in our book club; we don’t spend time rehashing what we have all read, but insights into the author’s thinking and influences, and whether they came through in the text are welcome subjects.

Do you use reader’s guides, either for your own reading enhancement or in a group? In choosing a book? I’d like to hear some other opinions on this subject, since my experience is limited to my own groups and those of my customers.

Living the Dream

Marilyn Thiele

 Summer is always the busiest time in the bookshop. Between summer reading lists for school, the increasing number of young people reading for pleasure when relieved of the September to June requirements, the parents with a little extra time as they are freed from chauffeuring the young to activities, and the general sense that it’s the season to enjoy life, the bookshop staff has little leisure to enjoy the riches we are providing to others.

I had some reading to catch up on; with two large events in the last two weeks, an inexplicable but welcome increase in business requiring constantly being in “ordering mode,” and the usual summer increase in used books generated by patrons’ housecleaning and needing to be priced and shelved, I hadn’t even looked at what my fellow Dead Guys had written for two weeks. This morning I caught up, both to be sure I didn’t duplicate someone else’s post, and in hope of finding an inspiration for my own. First I saw Josh’s post “What Summer Slowdown?” and recognized a fellow sufferer. Then I discovered that I am living at least part of the fantasies of two of my colleagues.

 In her July 1 post, “In my dreams,”  Lynne imagines creating a publishing house that only produces “real” books, the kind you can touch, feel, smell. Then she pictures setting up a small bookstore chain. In her fantasy, she also has 50 million pounds to dispose of, so I assume each shop would have a manager to deal with the daily drudge of running a business. The real objective is to have a place to sell all those lovely paperbound books. I don’t know if Lynne will ever get a chance to do this, but I do hope that the trend in the UK is the same as in the US. More independent shops are opening. Those of us who have survived the electronic infatuation and the on-line price slashing are seeing an upswing in business. I haven’t studied industry statistics, but my own experience is that many readers are turning away from the e-readers. “I read in bed and it keeps me awake.” “I can’t easily go back to reread an earlier scene.” “I feel disoriented, like I don’t know where I am in the book.” “I don’t remember what I’ve read.” (There are numerous studies backing up all these grumblings.)  The online price differential is still painful, but the closing of so many shops in past years has awakened those who love browsing to the fact that they will have to also buy at the shop if they want to have a place where they can hold and sample the book before owning it.

Terri also would open a publishing house and a bookstore. Her dream shop in “What if…” sounds a bit like mine, half mystery and half everything else. Mine didn’t start that way; it’s been fifteen years of hard work to grow what was once a small paperback book-swap into the two side-by-side full service shops, one all mystery, that exist today. (Twice Told Tales and The Moonstone Mystery Bookstore) The used book shop grew into one that sold new books also. Then the adjoining shop became available, and I saw my chance to live my fantasy of a mystery bookstore. I knew in this location mysteries alone wouldn’t pay the bills, and I, too, read and enjoy more than crime fiction, so I have it both ways.

For me, the bookshop is enough. I have no fantasies of getting into the publishing end of things. The shop at times seem more than I can handle. I was fortunate that at a time in my life when I was searching for my next step, an existing shop where I was a customer became available. And I didn’t start with lottery winnings, just a little I’d saved up. It’s been a constant learning experience, because I’d never run a business and because the world is changing quickly. I know Terri and Lynne have enough experience in the world of books and business to know why what some of my patrons who fantasize about owning a shop like mine say is a good laugh line: “I would love to do this; when it’s quiet, you can have tea and read.” Despite the long hours and hard work (book cartons are heavy!) I realize I am one of the lucky ones, living my dream. I spend my days with books, or talking to people about books. And, Lynne and Terri, if you ever have a little time to come share it, I’d love to have you.

Now, how do I fulfill my next fantasy, actually being able to have that tea and read all these luscious books I’m surrounded with, especially in these lazy summer days? I guess you can’t have everything.

 

Triumph of the Technology-Challenged

Marilyn Thiele

Those of you who have read some of my past writing here already know that adding new technology, software or hardware, to my life is not my idea of fun. As the tech world changes, a little too rapidly for my taste, I am frequently forced into changes that I will kindly call “challenging.” For me to voluntarily make a change to my way of doing things, there must be a benefit that far outweighs the frustration I anticipate. This week I not only made such a change, but was astounded at how smoothly it went. I’m sure I’ve learned some things over the years that lessened the challenge, but I’m also sure that most of the credit goes to the people at the software company whose “user-friendly” product actually lived up to its billing.

The motivator, one of the best in the world, was money. Credit card processing is a necessary expense for a retail business, but one that seems to grow much faster than the associated revenue. Most consumers are aware that a percentage of the sale amount is paid to the processing company, and that the percentage is higher for some card types (e.g., Amex). Most of my customers understood why I didn’t take Amex cards; the percentage is more than double the standard rate. That variable is only the beginning. The standard rate charged is usually 1.5% to 1.8%. Not bad. But there are ever increasing rate levels on “rewards” cards, up to and exceeding the previously mentioned high-rate premium card. In chatting with customers I realize that most people think that they are getting airline miles, cashback, or points toward other goods and services through the generosity of the financial institution issuing the card. Few realize that the merchant is the ultimate reward giver. And cards without rewards, at the standard rate to the retailer, are becoming scarcer every day. Incidentally, the agreement binding retailers to their processing company forbids refusing cards; if you take Visa, you have to take every Visa. It’s impossible to know the “rate” anyway, until the statement comes. It is permissible to forgo an entire card brand, e.g., Amex. But more on that!

So –  those of you who go out of your way to support small businesses (not just bookstores), might want to follow my lead. I keep a non-rewards Visa for shopping the “little guys.” Actually, I try to use cash, but when the purchase is large or I haven’t been to the ATM, I try to keep the hit to a minimum. When shopping at large national retailers, I use the rewards card. It’s not that I dislike them. I suspect that they have the market power to negotiate better rates for credit card processing, unlike those of us who have to live with what’s offered.

Ah, yes! What’s offered. Not a day goes by that I don’t receive a phone call from some company that “has a representative in the area” who would like to see my processing statement and guarantees to save me money. I have actually changed companies twice over the last ten years, though not as a result of these calls. The pattern is this: cheap rates, followed by increases. First an additional ten cents per transaction for “security” (yes, there is a transaction charge, varying from fifteen to twenty-five cents, in every system). Then an additional nine dollars a month for security “mandated by recent banking law changes.” And on and on. The last straw for me was one of those “opt-out” traps. My company would do me the honor of allowing me to take Amex cards without any further paperwork, for only $25 a month (in addition to the transaction fee and “discount” percentage). I could opt out by a certain date; otherwise, as soon as I processed an Amex card, the fee would be imposed monthly. Needless to say, I lost track of time and missed the opt-out date. A few months went by, and we were careful. Then one day I was dealing with several customers at once, and inadvertently took the wrong card. In the past, of course, it would I have been rejected, but under the new system, I was now an Amex processor. Even if I never accepted another Amex card, I had to pay $25 each month.

I have been using the Square Register system for credit cards on my iPad and then iPhone over the last two years, whenever I had occasion to be selling books away from my shop (signings at the local library, community events, etc.) Their newer device, the “Square Stand” is designed for small retailers. An iPad is inserted, and the Square App allows credit card processing and a host of other features. The fee is 2.75%, but that is the only fee. When I compared the cost of my current system, including the ever-increasing number of monthly fees, Square is a bargain. Still, I hesitated. A new piece of hardware; a dedicated iPad; new software; a new receipt printer for those stubborn ones who refuse e-mail or text receipts.. The initial investment seemed high until I remembered that I would need to purchase new credit card equipment later this year, at a cost of about $400, to handle the new “chip and pin” technology. I decided to accept the frustration that would ensue, run my systems parallel (not double charging, but keeping the old as backup for a “comfort” period), and earlier this week placed the fateful order. I thought “standard shipping” would give me until next week to face the monster.

Friday morning UPS delivered the printer. Friday afternoon, FedEx brought “The Stand.” During the midafternoon lull, I took a deep breath and began unpacking. My plan was to proceed to the usual point, where I wanted to throw one of the devices out the window, and then stop for a day or two until I could face it again. An hour and a half later, I was up and running. My only challenge was where to store the tiny screwdriver needed to secure the iPad to the Stand, in case I ever wanted to separate the two again.

Friday evening was busy because of a Flag Day concert on Main Street. The new system worked flawlessly. Granted, I was familiar with the App from my earlier usage, and all my accounts were set up; adding a device was simple. For me, though, this scenario was nothing short of miraculous. When Dani, my associate, arrived this morning, we began playing with other features and realized how this new toy is going to simplify our lives. I never really had a “point of sale” system; as the business has grown from a small “paperback book swap” to a full service shop, I added on procedures as needed. Excuse me if I’m gloating over something that is probably basic to others, but for the first time I feel like technology is serving me, not the reverse. I’m at this moment charging up a Bluetooth speaker. My attempts to play music in the shop have been less than successful, but now I have a dedicated iPad, and the courage to connect it to a speaker or two. And Monday morning – Farewell to the credit card extortionists.

 

Face to Face, Facebook to Facebook

Marilyn Thiele

Who would have thought that the demise of Borders in the fall of 2011 would cause an uptick in my business in the spring of 2015?  Or that for all the different avenues I use to get the word out that my little shop exists, that word would go out in a forum I joined for completely personal reasons?

A little background will help here. Flemington, New Jersey, where my shop is located, is a one square mile “borough” completely surrounded by, and in the exact center of, a 37 square mile “township.” They share the same postal zip code and school district, but nothing else, including planning boards. The dedication to “home rule” in New Jersey and the proliferation of small municipalities is a subject for another time; accept that this is the way it is. Flemington is the county seat of Hunterdon County, by most measures one of the wealthiest in the nation. In the not too distant past, Hunterdon County, including Raritan Township, was mostly farmland. The surrounding population came to Flemington for shopping of all sorts. My own shop was a bakery during the time of the Lindbergh trial and later a butcher shop with a side business in other groceries. (I still have people coming in and saying, “I remember when this was Fink’s Market.”)

Main Street had clothing stores, shoe shops, variety stores, butchers, bakers, and probably candlestick makers: everything your rural farmer needed to make a trip to town worthwhile. The “Egg Auction,” now offices, was the center of the trade in one of the local specialties. And of course, there was the Court House, the jail, the county clerk, and the law offices. Then came suburban sprawl. Flemington Borough contains the intersection of two state highways, one running northwest to southeast, the other northeast to southwest, and both giving easy access to major interstates. The borough has been completely built out for generations; but the surrounding township had all that lovely farmland just ripe for housing. Now the population of Raritan Township is five times that of the borough.

And what do township committees faced with the necessity of providing services to all these new voting residents without raising taxes want? Ratables! Clean businesses, not dirty factories. Shopping centers! And so, along these now congested highways, we have a proliferation of shopping opportunities: The Shoppes at Flemington; Raritan Town Square; The Flemington Mall, all containing outposts of nationwide retailers, all in the township and not the borough. And all offering wide selections and constant sales with which small retailers cannot compete.

This story of the death of Main Street is not unique to Flemington. Nor am I complaining, since I live in Raritan Township and thus am a beneficiary of their planning decisions. Efforts are underway, and making progress, to revitalize the downtown Flemington shopping area. As new “boutiques” open, first class restaurants thrive, and a strong “shop local” movement grows, there is cause for optimism. But overcoming the mindset that the downtown is full of empty storefronts and not worth visiting has been a struggle. There’s a lot here, including a wonderful book shop, but how do we get people to town? How do we make them aware of what’s available?

My purely selfish desire is to let people know that my own shop is here. For someone wanting new books, there is not another option available within 10 miles in any direction. Residents of the townships to the north and west of Flemington, who say they come to Flemington to shop, mean that they shop at the “highway stores.” And as far as they know, the big empty store in the Flemington Mall means that there is no longer a place to shop for books. That monstrous retail space has been vacant, with the name “Borders” on it for more than three years, and the signboard for the mall still prominently displays “Borders” at the top. I was at times tempted to see if I could rent a small corner of the window to place an ad for my shop.

Those truly looking for a bookshop find me online. But those whose idea of shopping for books means a national chain store are out of luck. I had a phone call last week from a woman asking if I was a “regular” book store. I explained what I offer, including the ability to order any book she might want. I realized quickly that “regular” meant “chain”; small independent was not a concept she could grasp.

My marketing efforts have evolved with the times. Print advertising, once the best way to reach potential customers, has become a waste of money. The abundance of online options is overwhelming, and I keep trying to figure out what the local population follows. This week, however, there was a huge boost through no effort of mine. I joined a local Facebook group as an individual because it is a great source of information. The local newspaper has degenerated, and the larger “state” newspaper doesn’t have time or space for our local concerns. The Facebook group involves everything from recommending local tradesmen to keeping up with the news we are most concerned with. A few weeks ago we had a state police SWAT team in town, frightening everyone including me as I drove home, and the only place to find out why was this group. The mayor posted what he knew. The group is not an advertising vehicle, and we all respect that, posting only special events of interest to the community. The members are also respectful, so discussions do not devolve into nonsense. Politics is a forbidden subject. 

The hot topic this week was the activity noticed at the old Borders store. It turns out that an outpost of a large sporting goods chain has finally rented the space. Good news in itself, because there is no longer a local sporting goods store to be put out of business. As the thread grew, those in the group who know my shop mentioned how fortunate the town is to have a book shop since the demise of Borders. Suddenly I had an influx of new, local visitors who were very complimentary about the shop, and very liberal with their purchases. I have to say, the oldest marketing method works best: Word of Mouth, even if it’s on Facebook, not face to face.

 

 

 

Me, Myself and I

Marilyn Thiele

When I was a child, my mother frequently described self-centered people as thinking of only “me, myself, and I.”  This week, I found myself wishing more people would spend time thinking about these three words.

I was getting ready for work one morning and had the television tuned to a news station, “half-listening” while I did mindless tasks, to see if anything worth paying attention to had happened. As usual, it was a lot of political blathering. Then what felt like the last straw: a reporter asked a question of a congresswoman and was answered with “I really wish (Mr. X) had asked George or myself before ……”  This misuse of “myself” has been irritating me more and more lately. I am beginning to think that the pronouns “I” and “me” have been dropped from the language.

I try not to let the more common grammatical errors we hear in speech get to me. The curmudgeon in me wants to require that everyone take a refresher course (or for some, it seems, a primary one) in basic grammar. But I take a deep breath, tell myself I can’t change the world, and brush off the annoyance. Sometimes I even laugh. A recurring radio ad for Mama Mancini’s meatballs starts: “Unlike other meatballs made with (long list of inferior ingredients), my grandmother always said…”  I think about what would have happened to me if I had ever called my grandmother a meatball.

For some reason I do not brush off this constant use of “myself” as easily. It seems to be taking over and obliterating the shorter first person pronouns. The incorrect usage occurs most often when there is a compound subject or a compound object. The easy way to determine the correct form of the first person pronoun is to remove the other party. “George and myself” or “George and I” went to the store? Remove George. “I went to the store.”  “The car hit Mary and myself” or “The car hit Mary and me”? Mary jumped faster. “The car hit me.”

I first noticed this incorrect usage several years ago in “man on the street” interviews. “My friend and myself were walking past the house when we heard a shot.” Since then it has crept into everyday language and is now being used by politicians and the blathering pundits. Soon, if it has not already, it will become accepted usage. And my ranting won’t stop it. But rant I will.

Why do people want to use a longer word when a shorter one will do? I think there is certain grandiosity involved. For those early passersby getting a chance to be seen on TV, it was probably an attempt to sound sophisticated. As the misuse of “myself” moved up the social ladder, it fed the narcissism so prevalent in today’s world. After all, the correct use of “myself” is reflexive, when the speaker is both subject and object (“I see myself in the mirror”), or intensive (“I made it myself”). Lots of focus on the self there.  Why not expand that focus on “myself” to more situations? I am reminded of my Irish family’s use of “Himself” to refer to the man of the house in a quasi-respectful way: “Himself will be wanting his dinner.” The implication was that “Himself” thought very highly of himself.

The desire to sound educated or sophisticated can often lead to the opposite result. For the most part, I just giggle when I hear a newscaster explain how a victim “extirpated” himself from a situation or read in the newspaper that a trial was “wrought with errors.” These sources lose credibility (as if they haven’t already for myriad other reasons) when they display their lack of education by attempting to fake it. I don’t find the “myself” phenomenon at all amusing; my feelings are more exasperation and frustration. All the speaker cares about is “me, myself, and I.”

 

Independent Bookstore Day -- Today!

Marilyn Thiele

It’s a beautiful sunny spring day, and, as seems to happen whenever there is a day like this, I won’t be able to get out to my garden. Too much going on!

Most important, it’s Independent Bookstore Day. Last year, there was a California Independent Bookstore Day. The success of that endeavor led the organizers to go nationwide this year, and independent bookstores everywhere are having special events and sales to celebrate. If you haven’t been out to your “local” yet, please get there and join the fun.

We’re doing special pricing and food, to say Thank You to the loyal customers who keep us going all year long. There is another town-wide event in progress, and Free Comic Book day at the local comic book store, so there are many reasons for shoppers to come to town.

Yesterday was the first day of the local Friends of the Library book sale. This annual event features over 100,000 books donated by local residents. Sometimes I feel that just as many are brought to my shop in a year to be perused as potential additions to my collection, but I’m sure it’s not quite that amount. What it tells me is that we have a community of readers and that I’m lucky to live and have my business here.

I am in the midst of a major reorganization at the shop, and donated over 800 books to this sale. I promised myself I would exercise restraint, only purchasing what I really need. For example, my section of Civil War books is completely depleted. But putting a biblioholic at a used book sale is like putting an alcoholic in a bar; “just one more.” I justified it to myself by thinking that I was purchasing for my shop, not indulging my cravings. Ah well; the damage was almost 500 books, so at least there is a net positive toward the cleanup effort. And several are going into my personal stash. Now comes all the pricing and shelving!

In the midst of writing this post between customers, I learned that Ruth Rendell, one of my favorite authors has died. It didn’t come as a shock, as she had had a stroke in January and was among our more senior crime fiction authors. Still, I can’t help thinking that it seems so many great mystery writers have passed in the last year or two. I haven’t quite reached the age where all my friends are dying, but it seems I’m at least at the point where all the authors who enthralled me in my early days of reading are going. Thank goodness for all the wonderful younger writers who carry on the tradition. At least there will be one more Ruth Rendell book in October, and there are more than enough books in my to-be-read pile. I will miss her unique style of psychological suspense.

Enjoy the fact that Spring seems finally to have arrived, but do spend a little time at that special independent book shop in your neighborhood. There are more of us this year than last year, but we still need your support – and appreciate it greatly!

 

Where's My Coloring Book?

Marilyn Thiele

When one has a small bookshop, special orders for customers are a daily occurrence. No matter how carefully the planned ordering is done, there is not space for everything. Requests from shoppers are one of the ways I find out what our community wants; the New York Times Bestseller List is good, but the books listed are not necessarily the most desired in our town. Every bookseller has to both keep up with large trends and keep in touch with the local world. Even if a special request is not for something I think will be widely popular, it leads me to books of interest I might otherwise have missed, and I frequently order a few extra copies knowing I have customers with similar tastes.

Last week one of my “regulars,” an avid crime fiction fan, asked me to order two books with which I was unfamiliar: The Secret Garden and The Enchanted Forest,
both by Johanna Basford. I thought perhaps she was moving on to another genre, until I looked them up. Well, yes, they are in a different category from her normal Scandinavian whodunits. They are coloring books – for adults. And thus my introduction to a phenomenon I had missed completely.

Both books are out of stock at the publisher, as is every other adult coloring book I was able to identify. Apparently they were the bestselling books on Amazon until the publisher ran out; so I and the big guy both wait patiently for some reprinting. In the meantime, I decided to look a little deeper into this sudden popularity of what was once considered childhood entertainment.

Unlike the books we remember filling up with our crayons, the adult versions are extremely detailed and complex, and are printed on high quality paper to allow for use with markers, pencils, Sharpies, or any other method the would-be artist chooses , without bleeding through. Basford’s books have hidden details, such as butterflies or squirrels, and a list in the beginning pointing out what to look for. According to one review, there are also clues to a puzzle to solve at the end.

This trend apparently started in Great Britain, where Basford’s books have been bestsellers for over a year. When published here in March, they sold out within two weeks. As I asked more and more people if they were aware of adult coloring books, I found that those who have been lucky enough to get these volumes love them. The most frequent description I heard was “relaxing.” Friends troubled with insomnia find that a few minutes of coloring leads to a good night’s sleep. Those stressed at the end of the workday find that taking out the markers and coloring book lowers that old cortisol level almost immediately.

There are various theories about why this activity is so relaxing. Some say that it’s an appeal to nostalgia, that it takes us back to a simpler time in our lives when someone else worried about the mortgage and the food shopping. Some say that we all are aspiring artists, but that being confronted with a blank page is too frightening. Having the pictures already drawn, and using our own creativity with color to complete the work, is an outlet for that desire. Others claim that the appeal is in the sense of accomplishment: having a finished work of art is satisfying in a world where most of our labors are on recurring tasks (everything from housework to running a business falls here for me).

More complicated analyses of the coloring book craze involve “digital detox,” mindfulness, meditative benefits, and the connections between use of our hands and certain centers in the brain. Whatever the cause of the peace and contentment that coloring is bringing to the grownup world, there’s no denying its popularity. Everyone wants to try it, including me. Whenever those backordered books finally come, I have one reserved for myself. I’ll let you know if it’s as relaxing as they say – unless I’m too unwound to write.

The Year of the Flood

Marilyn Thiele

Remember New Year’s Resolutions?  Here we are three months later. What happened? I’m not one for making a long list of ways to improve myself; I’m old enough to know I’m hopeless, and everyone will just have to take me (or not) just the way I am. But I do try to set some goals for things I would like to do. Usually these are as successful as the “lose weight,” “exercise more,” etc. items I gave up on years ago; in other words, I get to April and wonder why things haven’t changed much.

Last fall, I began to realize that my shop needed a major rearrangement. When I bought the shop in 1999, it was small used book store (or “Book Swap” as they were called then). I have expanded, first adding shelving, then starting to carry new books that seemed to be in demand, then taking over the shop next door and creating a mystery book shop. More and more new books have been added, and with the closing of the local Borders making me the only shop in a ten-mile radius, the new book business has become the larger portion of the sales. This shifting of focus has been done somewhat piecemeal, and the layout of sections and shelves is really inadequate for what the business is now. Oh, there are plenty of shelves; but it’s really time to get the used historical romance inventory away from the front of the shop, to make space for all those new young adult books.

Only a librarian or another bookseller can appreciate the enormity of the task of moving thousands of volumes from side to side, front to back. First, you have to clear the target space; where do those books go? Well, that space needs clearing first. So the first step is the second. Then the problem of where to move the books from the new “step one.” A few hours of planning the rearrangement leads to a need for coffee, chocolate, and a good crime novel.

Adding to the conundrum of the order of shifting sections is the fact that I am a hoarder. Cathy Genna’s post last week reminded me of this fact; my house seems to resemble hers, but may be worse because I am lacking in vast numbers of e-books or readers. My books are all paper, but they are everywhere.  I can get away with this at home, despite occasional marital discord, because they are mostly “to be read.” Stacks of books on the floor or in cartons at my shop are not the attractive displays that persuade customers to buy. Despite what seems like a constant culling of my used book inventory, donating regularly to library books sales and the nearby women’s prison, there is a “work area” in my shop, closed off to customers, which is overflowing with volumes I’ve had a hard time parting with. No space on the display shelves, but someday I may run short – or the reader for that one special item will show up. And as the new book area grows, the “saved” used book area is at fire-hazard capacity.  In addition, the number of used books actually in the selling area needs to be cut back to make more space for the new volumes.

So the plan, last December, was to use the months of January and February, when the shop is open five days a week instead of the normal seven, and business is slow, to get the rearranging and discarding done at last. Like most optimistic plans for the new year, it didn’t happen. January was dedicated to business tax filings and catching up on regular paperwork postponed by the Christmas rush. There was terrible cold and snow, making hauling cartons of books to temporary storage unappealing. February was a vacation, and catching up again, and more lousy weather. Mostly, the enormity of the task kept me from starting.

At some point, we all run out of excuses, and fate, or nature, or the perversity of mechanical things, forces our hand. Ironically, March 1 was the date that a broken water pipe above the shop created just what I needed: empty shelves and easy decisions about discarding books.

March 1 was a Sunday, and as usual I was in northern New Jersey at the church where my husband is rector. It snowed (again), and the normal one hour trip home took 2 ½ hours. When we walked in the door at 5 PM, I just wanted to relax. The phone was ringing – Dani, my assistant, from the store. She wanted to tell me about a “small leak” in the mystery book shop, that she had put a bucket beneath it, and that she had called our contractor, who fixes everything. A bit later, a call from the contractor – could my husband come over?  He needed a little help. Two hours later, my curiosity got the best of me and I called to ask what was happening. I was told, “Don’t come over. You don’t want to see this.” Not exactly comforting, but I did as asked (besides, I hate to drive in snow).

What I learned later that evening was that the leak had turned to a flood. What I saw Monday morning was piles of books all over the floor, free-standing shelves moved far from their normal locations, wall-mounted shelves empty, and vast amounts of wet carpeting.

As Dani and I started to clean up, I realized I had a lot to be grateful for. The previous Sunday, the shop would have been closed, and no one would have seen the leak. Had Dani’s father not been involved in a project and delayed picking her up, she would have closed early because of the weather. Either way, the water would have poured out all night. We discovered that most of the books were dry; Ken, our contractor, and my husband had worked furiously to move as much as possible away from the water.  We did have to discard a few hundred books, mostly used, but the expensive stuff was saved. Now we just had to put things to rights (after the carpet dried).

But wait! The question of which shelves to empty to begin the reorganization had been answered. There was a justification for piles of books on the floor. We put them in some order, and explained to very sympathetic customers why things were a bit in disarray. And we began the long overdue rearrangement.

We’ve been at it for a month now. Things are falling into place. The “flood” was distressing, but I find it more emotionally taxing to decide which books must go. I have been firm with myself, however. As each section is restored, the corresponding volumes in the “work area” are brought out and shelved or discarded. The library book sale at the end of April will have its largest donation by far from me. I even find myself culling the piles at home, facing the fact that I am not going to live long enough to read everything I have piled up, and bringing books to the shop to sell or donate. If I can stay in this mode for a while, I may start on my closets!

A Little "Thank You" Never Hurts

“Never do things to be appreciated. It rarely works out.” This from Philip Galanes, in his weekly New York Times column “Social Q’s,” in response to a young woman complaining about her friends’ apparent lack of gratitude for a dinner party in which she had invested a great deal of time and money. This column is one of my pleasures in reading the Times: after columns of heavy analysis and portentous predictions of world disaster, simple, common sense responses based on observation of human behavior and the need we all have to get over ourselves.

It may be folly to do things just to be appreciated, but it may also be prudent to express sincere appreciation.  A few weeks ago David Shenk wrote about one method authors use to express gratitude in “A Thankless Task,” his contribution to the “Author’s Note” column in the New York Times Book Review. He discusses the “Acknowledgements” appended to many books from the point of view of an author and a reader of nonfiction. He indicates that he reads the acknowledgements in deciding whether to read a book, and chooses partially on his liking or disliking the sources mentioned. He says he is becoming increasingly ambivalent about the value of this addition to books, as the form has become “calcified,” a litany of “the patient editor, the visionary agent, … the understanding spouse, … the generous colleagues, … the saintlike librarians ….”

I enjoy reading the acknowledgements section, particularly in the crime fiction I read most often. I’m glad to know that authors who venture into areas of forensics, or history, or ballistics, or any other field in which they lack expertise were wise enough to consult those who do know those subjects, and that the situations presented in the novel are realistic. I like getting the sense that although writing is a lonely occupation, the author knows he or she did not do it all alone, that the editors, agents, publicists, librarians, family and friends were necessary to the process. I enjoy seeing the names of people I have met. And twice, to my great surprise, I saw the name of someone I know intimately … me. Yes, some authors feel and show appreciation to the booksellers. It would be remiss of me not show appreciation here to the first author who “acknowledged” my shop and the efforts we make on behalf of the writers. Thank you, Jeff. It was many books ago for you and early days in bookselling for me, but remembering those few words still gives me “warm fuzzies.”

Reading acknowledgements gives me a sense of the author as a person. I have never sensed that the thanks offered to all the “supporting cast” was a mechanical exercise. Who is thanked and how they are thanked gives a glimpse of the writer’s personality and priorities.  Those who thank the booksellers they have worked with gain some extra points with me; someone has made a special effort to get their work into the hands of readers, and they know it.

What about authors who don’t do acknowledgements? Shenk, in his essay, suggests that they may think that the work should stand on its own, or that this addendum is a distraction to readers and may even discourage them from reading the book if they don’t care for those thanked (often other authors), or that they don’t want to boast about connections and friendships. My experience, at least with crime fiction writers, leads me to a different conclusion. They are aware of the support and help of so many people that they can’t possibly name them all. One bookseller may have created a spectacular event, but ten others also put forth great effort to promote the book.  How many pages should this section take up? And what if someone is forgotten? If a book doesn’t have acknowledgements, it doesn’t lead me to believe the author is ungrateful. But if it does, I enjoy the opportunity glimpse a little of the author’s life.

 My work has given me an understanding of the process of getting a book to the reader and the privilege of meeting people involved in various stages of this process. What about the “ordinary” reader, the “end user” who just wants a good read? Do they even bother to read the acknowledgements? Unless they are ardent fans who attend conventions and know some of those named, does this section have any meaning? Apparently yes. Two years ago I received a letter from a relative living in Colorado. Our relationship is friendly, but had withered to Christmas card notes due to distance and having little in common. I was afraid of bad news; instead, I found a photocopy of the Acknowledgements page where a second author had been kind enough to mention my shop. There was a brief note expressing pleasure that my shop was doing well (i.e., still in existence) and reminding me of my visit there years before when he had showed me his favorite bookstore. A phone call followed. And a reconnection of the relationship. You never know what those few little words will produce. What I learned from this relative/reader is that he likes to feel that extra connection with the author, that  glimpse of the real person who created the fiction.

I don’t hold booksigning events or handsell books I love or talk up authors whose work deserves attention expecting appreciation. These efforts are part of my business, and help it grow and thrive. But I’m human, and when that unexpected “thank you” appears, I can’t help but feel good, both about myself, and about the person offering the gratitude. It’s fun seeing it in print and knowing others will see it; but the handwritten notes, e-mails that are more than perfunctory social thanks, and kind words said to others that reach my ears through the grapevine are all equally welcome.

Appreciation is something we often feel but frequently fail to express. Remembering how it feels to be on the receiving end of a sincere “Thank You” should help us all remember to be on the giving end a little more frequently.

Everybody Talks About It, But Nobody Does Anything About It

I’m essentially an optimist. I see the positive side of most events and trends, and I look for signs of good things happening or to come. When there doesn’t seem to be anything good on the horizon, I settle for “This too shall pass.” But the last couple of months have put me in a rare “When will this end?” mood.

The weather, of course, is the culprit. The unending cold, sprinkled (or inundated) with snow or sleet or freezing rain, seems to have put everyone into grumpy gloominess.  Even sunny days, with temperatures in the teens or single digits, bring just enough melting to create another hazard, black ice. And potholes. No one wants to go outside unless it is absolutely necessary. For retail or restaurant businesses, the persistent cold is keeping customers away. This time of year is always the slowest; this year, it’s almost a standstill. Some restaurants and shops are closing, unable to weather this storm. My shop will be all right, but I’m hoping for some pent-up demand once the temperature gets above freezing (possibly in the next week).

Still, I see signs of hope. There was a robin on my deck railing this morning! Today the temperature got into the high 20s, and there were a few families with children in the shop browsing. The parents said they just had to get the kids out of the house to do something. (But more snow tomorrow!) The longer term forecast says we may break that freezing mark for a few days next week.

The gods of Facebook must have seen my need for good news; it seems that this week there was an overabundance of posts with links to articles on encouraging trends for those of us supporting and being supported by the paperbound book. This winter is dreadful; the long range forecast is bright. The topics are ones I have written about frequently, so rather than elaborating on them, I am providing a few links for those who want to read the details:

Why digital natives prefer reading in print. (Washington Post, February 22)

Sorry, Ebooks, These 9 Studies Show Why Print is Better (Huffington Post, February 27)

The Rise of Independent Booksellers in The Time of Amazon (Buzzfeed, February 26)

The studies seem to be showing that electronic readers are hard on the eyes, lead to lower comprehension of the material, and interfere with sleep. As to the independent booksellers, I was comforted by the lead quote from John Green in the Buzzfeed post: “You cannot invent an algorithm that is as good at recommending books as a good bookseller.”

So here is my question: Would all the brilliant minds who have given us a reading tool that is less suited to the human brain than the method we already have, and who design algorithms that can’t imitate the perception of booksellers we already have please turn their attention to doing something about the weather?

A Bookseller's Vacation

I returned last evening from the vacation I was planning when I last posted. From 85 degrees to 15 in the space of a few short hours. But if things follow the pattern of the last few years, I will be able to carry all that sun and warmth with me until Spring finally breaks through.  Last time I talked about packing work you won’t do, clothes you won’t wear, and books you won’t read. I did pretty well: actually wore most everything I brought, and got through that long list of books with only two spares. I hoped that, like last year, we would have to delay our return because of weather-related flight cancellations, but we managed to return on one of the clear days between “clippers.” Ah, well.

And work. I didn’t bring any, besides the books which are an integral and delightful part of my job. For a few days I drifted through, content that my biggest worries were keeping my frizzy hair under control in the humidity, being sure to wear enough sun block, and cleaning all the sticky sand off my feet. (I’m really not gloating, just trying to keep the memories fresh while the latest round of snow floats outside the window.) Adding to my contentment was the observation that there was not an electronic reader to be seen. Over the six years that my husband and I have been vacationing at the same small hotel on Antigua, I have watched the trend rise and fall. There are vacationers from all over the world there, and a huge Sandals resort is just down the beach. We love to walk along the beach, and a few years ago it seemed paper books had all but disappeared; everyone reading was holding a little machine of some sort. I admired the bravery of the readers; I’m sure I would have destroyed my device with sand or water. The little “take one, leave one” library in the hotel’s office was barren; the staff was grateful when I left my completed paperbacks behind. This year, the library was stocked with books in several languages, as were the small shelves in the suites. Well read, but looking for one more set of eyes. I couldn’t believe the reversion to paper was that complete, and so I made a point to look for an e-reader on the beach, by the pool, or under the shade of trees. I did not see even one during the entire ten days. I’m not sure what this bit of trivial, anecdotal evidence portends, but there it is.

The dearth of electronic readers was balanced by an experience that reminded me of a sometimes exasperating aspect of my job. The world sometimes seems to be full of people who know exactly how a bookshop should be run and what titles should be stocked. When customers jump into advice-giving mode (e.g. you should shelve all the books lying flat, so the title can be read without head-tilting, never mind the impossibility of keeping them in order), it generally suffices to respond, “Thank you. I’ll think about that.” When my husband and I took a catamaran trip this vacation, involving sailing around the island with stops for snorkeling and a marvelous Caribbean feast, we struck up a conversation with a couple who live very close to us in New Jersey. When the usual “What do you do?” questions arose, my husband, who is a clergyman, was suitably vague. There are professions that can lead to awkwardness, or too much in-depth revelation, or just plain annoying persistence. It’s Vacation! I didn’t think bookselling was an occupation best kept under wraps --- until this trip.

The wife told me how she loves bookshops, and so do her children. She couldn’t wait to visit mine, and bring them along. When I asked about which other independent shops in the area she liked, despite her insistence that she loved them, it became apparent that she really had no familiarity with my comrades. She proceeded then to name several books with which I am unfamiliar, telling me I MUST stock them. It turns out they are religious titles with a strong evangelical bent. Her next piece of advice was that I must lead my customers to these books. Miracles would happen. I began to feel that I was back in the time when we had a local character in town, referred to as “The Preacher,” who would harangue people on the street and come into my shop informing me that I should be selling only Bibles. As the boat trip was a social occasion, I barely knew this woman, and she obviously had overindulged in the rum punch, I responded by trying to change the topic. People love to talk about themselves, but every question I asked about her children or her work turned right back to how I should run my shop. And here’s the punch line: “I love to browse in bookshops, then I buy my books on Amazon.” My husband says that even as long as he’s known me, he’s never witnessed such self-restraint. I excused myself to the ladies’, and then went to the other side of the boat.

So I didn’t completely escape work. Once I regained my equilibrium, I actually found the whole incident quite amusing. But next time someone asks, I will be suitably vague. It’s just that I do so love to talk about books, and that’s usually where a conversation about my shop leads – vacation or not.

I mentioned in my last post that the reason I carry so many books on this annual winter vacation is that there is not a bookshop on the island.  I am pleased to report that this is no longer true. As we sat in the departure lounge at the airport (there is only one, for all flights), during that long hour or more between international check-ins and actual departures,  my husband and I took turns watching the carry-ons and browsing the opportunities for last minute gifts or souvenirs. The offerings are actually quite nice; few shops, but choices a cut above the usual keychains and magnets. In previous years I had noticed one shop with a few “airport” books among the magazines and candy. This time, I spotted several tall bookshelves in one corner near the departure gate (yes, just one gate). The irresistible force pulled me there.

 I noted that the selection was perfect for the venue; not many titles in any one category, but good choices for readers of any taste. In mystery, Ian Rankin and P. D. James stood out. There were some well-chosen romances, thrillers, young adult novels, and a variety of nonfiction. As I carefully straightened a front-facing volume I had bumped while pulling out another to peruse (it’s instinctive), a young woman asked if she could help me. I told her that I was a bookseller and complimented her on the variety, quality, and display of her selections. She explained that she chooses and brings them from her main store in St. John’s, the nearby capital. When I said I had been told there wasn’t a bookshop on the island, she said they had been open for a few years and had just expanded to a second floor. I’m always excited to learn of new bookshops opening and growing. Perhaps this shop is partly responsible for the missing electronic readers. I know one place I’m planning to visit on next year’s winter vacation!

It’s back to the snow and cold, but with hope for the future of paper-bound books, the knowledge of a thriving bookshop in my favorite vacation spot, and an amusing story to add to my repertoire of bookselling advice anecdotes. And only 34 days until Spring!

Vacation Binge Reading

Marilyn Thiele

There is a cartoon (among the many) on my refrigerator with the caption “Packing Essentials: A Checklist.” It shows a woman looking at a suitcase with sections labeled “Clothes you won’t wear,” “Work you won’t do” and “Books you won’t read.”  I’m in the midst of packing for a winter vacation, and I can really identify. Well, not with the work part; I’m leaving that all behind. Clothes, yes. I just want to take the whole closet, topped off by the dresser drawers, so that I don’t have to make decisions. I always take more than I wear. It was a bit better on my last trip to England, and I’m hoping to be a bit more discerning in planning for this trip. As I get older, the heavy suitcase, even on wheels, becomes more of a burden, so there is some incentive to pack light.

Books are another story. I am going to an island where there is not a bookstore, so I really have to be careful not to run out of my addictive substance. Of course, I will have my iPad, and there is an endless selection there. I am a paper book lover, though, and for a relaxing vacation in the sun, I want to read in my preferred format. I took too few books to England, and wound up shopping at the bookshop at Heathrow for the return. And the book I started in electronic format I finished with the paper copy. This situation creates a conflict with my desire for a lighter suitcase, but for books, I will find the strength.

As with the clothing, I want to just dump the whole bookshelf. (Actually, I would need a moving van to take all my unread books.) But I had to choose, and I thought I would share my choices (in no particular order) and my reasoning.

Mortal Bonds by Michael Sears: Airplane book. I read Black Fridays, the first in the series, last year, and the plot moved quickly and kept my attention. I hate to fly, so need something like this.

Faithful Place by Tana French:  This is the third in the series, and I was enthralled when reading In the Woods and The Likeness. I may save it for the return airplane trip, but I’m not sure I will be able to hold off that long.

Little Criminals by Gene Kerrigan: I was completely absorbed both in the plot and the characters when I read Kerrigan’s The Midnight Choir. The moral dilemma of a police detective who has bent the rules a bit to ensure that the guilty are punished is handled with such  a deep, multi-layered  scrutiny that the reader is left wondering where the line lies between right and wrong. The Rage won the CWA Gold Dagger for best crime novel of the year in 2012. His novels are not a series. I save them for times when I know I will have long spans to read without interruption. Unfortunately, there are only four, so I will hold the others until I feel I deserve a special treat.

The Bookman’s Tale by Charlie Lovett: A literary mystery with an antiquarian bookseller as the detective.  This book has been recommended by several friends whose opinions I respect, so I want to give it a try. I can’t help but be interested in a bookseller’s adventures.

Iron Lake by William Kent Krueger: I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never read any of the Cork O’Connor books. I loved Ordinary Grace, so I am finally going to start with the first. I always read series in order, and I have some catching up to do here.

Little Face by Sophie Hannah: Another first in a series by an author I’ve been meaning to read. Sophie Hannah came to the surface of my long mental list of authors I want to read last year when she picked up Agatha Christie’s banner with a new Hercule Poirot novel, The Monogram Murders. Little Face looks like psychological suspense, another of my favorite subgenres.

The Day She Died by Catriona McPherson: Another new author for me. I’ve wanted to read McPherson’s books since I saw her on a panel at Bouchercon in 2013 and found her delightful. I can’t keep up with too many series at once, and this is a stand-alone, so I chose to start here.

It looks like I’m in for some binge reading. I haven’t had a chance to read much recently. December was (thankfully) very busy at my shop and I came home exhausted, and January has been a month of catching up on what didn’t get done in December, plus filing all those nasty tax forms employers are burdened with.  The beast needs to be fed, and I think I’ve planned a balanced diet. Now if I can just get them all in the suitcase!

All You Can Read at One Low Price

Marilyn Thiele

 Ah, the wonders of the digital age! I can see all the movies I want from Netflix for $7.99 a month, listen to all the music I want for free from  Spotify (or for $9.99 a month without the pesky ads) and now, I can read 24 hours a day from a library of 700,000 books for another $9.99 a month from Kindle Unlimited.  In other words, I can be entertained in any way I want for as long as I want for less than I spend on coffee in a month.

I don’t actually use any of these services, for various reasons. Out in the middle of nowhere, where I live, high-speed internet connections are still primitive and unreliable. I’m perfectly satisfied with what is available on cable TV and old-fashioned DVDs. I find the choices on Spotify or Pandora overwhelming; too much to pick from leads to dithering and agita, so I actually buy the music I like. And anyone who has read my posts over the last three years doesn’t even need to ask about Kindle Unlimited.

An article in The New York Times on December 28 (“Amazon Offers All-You-Can-Eat Books. Authors Turn Up Noses”) prompted me to do a little investigating of the pros and cons of unlimited services in other areas. I learned from talking to subscribers that Netflix seems to remove content regularly and that there is a lot of original programming, some successful, some not, and TV shows. Apparently, the licensing agreements Netflix makes with the creators (or controllers) of films impacts availability. Spotify does not seem to have this problem; the catalogs of artists are controlled by the big three labels, and they and Spotify have a secure contractual relationship. The much publicized pullout of Taylor Swift from Spotify apparently only drew more listeners to the free service (any publicity is good publicity). One source said it would take twenty Taylor Swifts taking the same action to have any impact. And those who wanted to hear Taylor Swift switched to YouTube, which pays even less. So much for not allowing your work to be devalued.

Consumers are thrilled by the concept of getting unlimited fare for a small monthly price (even free if you’re willing to listen to ads). In the case of music, it seems most everything is available. Discontent surfaces quickly when the offerings are limited by outside forces, as in the case of Netflix. How is this going to play out in the world of books?

One argument I have heard frequently in Amazon’s favor is that authors have been able to self-publish easily, find an audience, and actually make a living without jumping through the hoops that success (or even publication) requires in the traditional system. Imagine 70% royalties! Those money grubbing old-school publishers have just been cheating authors all these years! But with Kindle Unlimited, these royalties have been cut drastically, and are now apparently arbitrarily set and changed. Those who quit their day jobs are under some stress. It is not mandatory that an author self-publishing on Amazon participate, but most are afraid that if they do not, their books will not be promoted. And if they are on Kindle Unlimited, they are exclusive – no sales through other channels.

These authors are beginning to feel exploited. Amazon was their friend! They were appreciated, paid well, and given opportunities never before available. And now they’re stuck with declining incomes and limited options. There is suspicion that these books are being used as loss leaders, to draw readers in and promote other items to them. It occurs to me that perhaps independent booksellers  were not so foolish last year in declining Amazon’s generous offer to allow them to sell Kindles and Kindle books and earn a commission. After the two year contract, Amazon would have the customer lists, and the booksellers would have nothing.

Amazon is a business. The objective, not unique to them, is to make money. Although their earnings don’t reflect much success on the money-making front, they seem to be good at long term strategy. Locking in a large contingent of writers and then using them to promote the overall company is not a bad plan. Anyone who thinks a business is giving away rewards without some plan for future benefit is delusional. Their job is not to promote the arts; it’s to enhance the bottom line.

So what’s an author caught in this trap to do? Since compensation seems to be “per view” of a book, some are breaking down novels into 5 or more parts, a series, multiplying the number of times the work will be viewed by a reader who is interested in the story. Some are writing more and faster. Some may have to get day jobs again, and write, if it is their calling, in their spare time as so many authors have before. One complaint about the growth of on-line self-publishing has been that there are too many books vying for the readers’ attention; with hundreds of thousands of books out there, there is too much competition. Perhaps that problem will resolve itself when the monetary rewards are limited.

In the music industry, many artists who do not have the standing of a Taylor Swift live with the fact that the royalties they receive are miniscule but hope that exposure on Spotify or other services will lead to greater success and earnings in the future. I am sure some will find an audience this way. Similarly, a truly talented writer may rise above the crowd, gain a following, and succeed in a more traditional environment. Unfortunately, though, it looks like the party is over for the vast majority.

 

Young Readers - Hope For the Future

Marilyn Thiele

I love the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. The shop is busy with readers shopping for themselves instead of trying to find the perfect book for someone else. Students are on vacation from school, and many adults have taken this week off to relax also. The atmosphere is one of quiet browsing. No rush; just let me look at every shelf in the shop. This is where the real book lovers want to spend their “me-time.” Just soaking it all in.

For some, this is the time of year to look back and assess the year gone by. I prefer to put my mind into the next year. For several years at this time I have wondered if the shop would survive for another year. But right now I am more optimistic than I have ever been.  Our town is coming out of the doldrums. Two new venues, formerly empty storefronts, have been repurposed by volunteers, one as a pop-up arts center and one as a music center, featuring performances by local bands. Both have drawn young people to the town. These young people “hang out.” And one of the places they hang is the bookshop.  My plan for early next year is to rearrange a bit, get some sofas, and give them more of a place to be comfortable.

There is nothing that gives me more hope for the future than seeing teenagers and young adults who love to read. Yes, there are more parents and little children coming in, more adults who have been reading all their lives returning to the bookshop after their flirtations with electronic books and on-line shopping.  But what lifts my spirit is an incident from yesterday: three young women, home from college and engaging in lengthy browsing and discussion of books they liked.  One said, “Let’s have a contest this break. Who can read the most books?”  Who says no one reads anymore?

I hope all of you are looking forward to the new  year as much as I am. Enjoy the rest of this one, celebrate, be safe. I wish you a Happy New Year full of wonderful books.

Do You Read What I Read?

Marilyn Thiele

Several weeks ago, The New York Times Book Review “Bookends” section, which poses a weekly question to two authors, asked if they had ever had a relationship break up over reading tastes. I don’t recall the responses by the authors in question, other than that they seemed like short memoirs of early romances. The question itself intrigued me for a few reasons, and it has been rattling around in my head as a possible topic for this blog.

My first reaction was “How silly.” I’m not much of a fighter over differences of opinion, whether the subject is sports, religion, fashion, reading preferences, or anything else. I confess to being a little less tolerant in the area of politics, which I have learned to avoid except with those who are on the same page. My philosophy is that when it comes to strongly held convictions, no arguing is going to change another person’s mind. If looking at the whole person I see someone I want as a friend, his or her views on one topic are not going to put me off. If the person’s values and judgments are consistently incompatible with mine, it is not likely that there is any common ground for a relationship. And certainly, as a bookseller, I have learned to appreciate a wide variety of reading tastes, if only on a superficial level.

The question posed in The Book Review seemed directed at romantic relationships. This avid reader has been married for 28 years to someone who does not read, at least not fiction. The only real stress this situation has put on the relationship is occurring now. I love to give books as gifts. How does one choose a book for a non-reader? I have tried nonfiction related to his many interests, but the truth is that getting comfortable for a long stint with a book does not give my husband the pleasure it gives me. He’s an engineer at heart, and I just have to find a new toy for him to tinker with. Obviously, there are more important shared activities and values between us than reading. He does enjoy my summaries of mystery book plots while we are driving, and says it saves him the reading. When I finished an oral synopsis of Gone Girl (while I still remembered all the twists and reversals of the plot), his comment was, “Wow. I wouldn’t want to be married to her.” I said, “You mean Amy?” He said, “No, the author who could imagine something like that.” So I guess Gillian Flynn is no threat to my marriage. And there go my hopes of writing a similar best seller.

Whether it’s romantic relationships or friendships, people don’t need to agree on every issue, or enjoy all of the same things. In fact, life would be pretty dull if the only people we were close to were exactly like us. Many of my friends are avid readers, and several of them are in the reading groups that meet at my shop. Within this reading community there is a wonderful variety of tastes. As a result, I have read books I would never have picked up on my own. Some choices I am grateful for. Some I finish feeling that the hours could have been better spent. But I always learn from the discussion what attracted the person who proposed the book, and thus learn something more about her. (We have a few sporadic male attendees, but in general reading groups seem to be a girl thing. Topic for another post!)

An incident this week made me realize that I do have a sensitive spot when it comes to books and others’ opinions. Our groups have holiday lunch or dinner outings in December, since we all are too busy for much reading but enjoy each other’s company. As we lunched and reviewed what we had read this year, a particular book came up. It was one that the members, evenly split, either loved or hated. We were talking about how good that meeting was; the disagreement actually led to wonderful expressions of the bases of our opinions. I fell into the “hate” camp; the writing was beautiful, but 500 pages of lovely description where very little happens (she was born, she lived, she died) was boring to me. A member of the group (and friend) who was in the “love” contingent commented that it was more appealing to those with an academic bent. My mouth engaged before my brain, as happens all too frequently, and I shot back that just because good mysteries have a plot that keeps the reader’s attention, doesn’t mean they are mere entertainment and more and more frequently they contain writing that is just as lovely and characterization that is just as profound as so-called “literary” fiction.

After a brief pause, the conversation moved on to other books. My friend and I have cleared the air; no offense was intended by either of us, and small slips of the tongue when our real passion is the books are easily remedied. The incident revealed to me a sensitive spot in myself that is more easily provoked that I realized (or admit). One argument I will engage in is the defense of genre fiction as every bit as worthy as any “literary” work anointed by those who do the anointing. As a bookseller, I can’t get into heated debate with those customers who will go nowhere near the science fiction/fantasy, romance or mystery sections. But I have made suggestions to those with more willingness to try something different, and have gotten feedback that new horizons have been opened.  I should mention here that the friend with whom the heated moment occurred reads voraciously in all genres, and appreciates good writing wherever it appears.

So, Vive la difference! Dissimilar reading taste is not a deal breaker for me; it’s the person who counts. What about you?

Housekeeping Note:  Cathy Genna will begin sharing this slot with me in January. We both agree that a bookseller’s life at this time of year is both invigorating and exhausting, and can only be understood by another bookseller. Taking on something new is better with the New Year, and I know she will bring fresh insights to the Saturday posts.

Luxury at a Small Price

Marilyn Thiele

Careful observers will have seen some additions to the group pictured at the right of your screen. Welcome to Cindy Chow, who will be sharing the librarians’ point of view with Jessy on Sundays, and to Cathy Genna, who will be offering another bookseller’s perspective every other Saturday. I will let Cathy introduce herself in her first post; we are negotiating that date, as retail bookselling is a bit crazy and exhausting at this time of year (Thank Goodness!). I look forward to sharing this space with her and making a new friend.

Speaking of selling books in real bookstores – Shelf Awareness led me to a piece in The Spectator magazine which brightens up an already happy season for those of us struggling to keep the traditions going. Long Live Bookshops! by Emily Rhodes uses the opening of a luxury bookshop on Piccadilly in London to highlight the luxuriousness of all physical books. Rhodes points out that the beautifully bound coffee-table tome has always been perceived as a luxury, with a price to match. She goes on to say that now that electronic books have brought lower prices, the ordinary paperbound book has taken on an aspect of luxury. She claims that publishers have helped this perception by boosting production quality and adding “extras” to the printed volume to entice readers to the more expensive format with value added.

More interesting than the market-driven effort to distinguish the designer handbag from the chain store knock-off are Rhodes’ words about print itself as a luxury. She points to a study (unreferenced, but I hope it’s true) showing that 68% of 15-to-25-year-olds prefer reading print. My own experience leads me to believe this number; this demographic is a large proportion of my business, and I am constantly informed that there is nothing like a printed book for them. Rhodes says: “This indicates the pleasure to be found in a book as an object: the enjoyment of holding the thing, looking at the cover, turning the pages. This is choosing tactility and aesthetic over price and convenience. It is choosing the luxury of print.”

The luxury of the printed book can be enhanced by the way in which it is bought, according to Rhodes, with whom I am obviously in perfect agreement. She contrasts the mechanical purchase on-line or in a megastore where discounts and coupons are the main selling tools to “places where you are greeted by a real person, where the air is thick with the dusty smell particular to books, the hushed enthusiasm of conversations which meander delightfully…and the thrill of discovery.”

The limited space of the independent bookshop means curtailing the unlimited choices available on-line. It also means that you are likely to run across (or have recommended to you) a book you never knew existed and which is perfect for you. Rhodes expounds on the need for smaller stores to curate their collections and the resulting knowledge about the items in stock and attentiveness of the staff. I would add that much of the curating is based on listening to customers’ opinions, likes and dislikes, and requests rather than on marketing efforts by publishers. We hear you! And if we don’t have what you want, we can almost always get it for you.

So this holiday season, indulge your loved ones in the luxury of a printed book, and indulge yourself in the luxury of a real bookshop!

Farewell Baroness James

Marilyn Thiele

There are people, institutions and even physical objects that we unconsciously assume will always be around.  They become part of the fabric of our lives, and we merrily roll along forgetting that nothing lasts forever. I’m not thinking of the important elements, family and friends, whom we treasure and see or at least communicate with frequently, but the ones that are called to my mind when a memory is triggered or a significant event occurs.  As I grow older, I find that people and places that have been a piece of me are disappearing with greater frequency.

This week it was P. D. James. I knew her only through her novels and can’t claim any personal loss. And I was well aware of her age. Yet somehow I was expecting another Dalgliesh novel. And another.  There won’t be any more, and despite the multitude of wonderful authors sitting in my “to be read” pile, I am sad.

I discovered P. D. James when An Unsuitable Job For a Woman was published in 1972. I was in my real “coming of age” years, out of college, working, living on my own and unattached. I was finally able to read free of the English Major’s syllabus. Cordelia Gray was my first exposure to a fictional female private eye, and she embodied the independence and ability to succeed in a “man’s world” to which many of us young women aspired. (Remember, these were the early days of “Women’s Lib,” and we all knew how hard it was to be taken seriously.) I thought at the time that this was James’s first novel, and only later discovered the early Dalgliesh mysteries. I was disappointed that there were only two Cordelia Gray books and always hoped for more. But we soon had Kinsey Milhone and V. I. Warshawski as role models.

Much has been written about Adam Dalgliesh, his quirks, his character, his depths, especially in the last few days. I appreciate the “humanness” with which his creator endowed him, making him so much more than a detective. But I am a plot lover, and what I enjoyed most about the books was the way P. D. James set up the crime for the reader long before it occurred. My favorite is probably Original Sin, perhaps because the background is a publishing house. As was typical in a James mystery, we are dropped into the daily life of the characters. The rivalries, grudges, betrayals and slights are slowly exposed. The murder doesn’t take place until almost halfway through the book, and, by then, the reader has identified several potential victims and perpetrators. James was not fond of the female mystery writers of the classic age, saying that their characters were one dimensional and stereotypical. She refined their plotting by creating believable characters with multifaceted personalities, keeping the reader guessing about motives as well as means and opportunity.

The one P. D. James novel that has haunted me for years, and which I still recommend to readers, is The Children of Men. It is not a mystery, but poses the question, “How would we as a society and as individuals behave if we knew that we were the last generation of humans on earth?” It’s well worth reading if you haven’t.

So from my youth through my years of work, marriage, parenthood, and now looming retirement, there was periodically the gleeful word that another Dalgliesh novel was due to be released. They weren’t annuals, and that made them even more special. And there hasn’t been one for six years. And now we know for sure that there won’t be. I’m grateful, though, that P. D. James and Adam Dalgliesh were around all this time and are a little piece of who I am.

Too Big To Fail?

Marilyn Thiele

One night earlier this week, I pulled up to my garage door. It was late (for me) and dark. I was tired and just wanted to eat and go to bed. My husband spends two or three nights a week away, so all was quiet. And there in my headlights – a large carton with the “smiley arrow” of my least favorite retailer emblazoned on it. Aggravating enough to have to get out of the car in the cold and drag the carton inside; more aggravating because I don’t have the same happy reaction to receiving a package from this source as I do from Talbot’s or Land’s End.

The package was addressed to my husband, so I left it unopened in a prominent location. Even after all these years, we still respect the privacy of mail, packages, etc. But after all these years, I did feel free to get a little snarky when speaking to him on the phone: “Since when are we shopping on the dark side?” He disclaimed any contact with the despised source of the shipment, and technically, he had not crossed over. When the package was opened, it contained envelopes of an uncommon size which he had ordered from a small company. But guess who did the fulfillment and shipping?

This incident got me thinking about how this one large company has permeated every aspect of our lives, and how hard they are to avoid. In my shop I have daily reminders. Yesterday a customer asked if we had free Wi-Fi so that she could check her wish-list on A#%&* against my used-book prices. She was not consciously “showrooming” (identifying books she wanted or that I recommended to order elsewhere later), but doing what she considered to be normal comparison shopping. It never occurred to her that I might bristle (which action I carefully concealed) at the mention of the name. For her, and many others, the main retailer is A#%&*. She was astute enough, however, to realize that her chosen source is not always the cheapest despite what they would have you believe.

I have observed for a long while the use of the word “Kindle” as a synonym for “electronic reader.” In fact, I rarely hear “electronic reader” except from my own mouth. I can be reading on my iPad and have someone ask how I like reading on my “Kindle.” I was surprised to see in recent analyses of A#%&*’s business that they have about 60% of the e-book market; I would have thought it was higher. If the ordinary shopper, desiring an e-reader, searches on-line for “kindle,” they will have several models to choose from, but will also become a captive customer, since they will have only once source for books.

One company’s domination of a market to the point that they can set prices not only for customers who have no choice but for their suppliers who are equally without options is illegal; it’s called a monopoly. Whether A#%&*’s market power has reached that point is a subject of debate, and will sooner or later be resolved in the courts. While closing the doors of some competitors, they have opened doors to entrepreneurs and to authors that were not available before. And they have not succeeded in enmeshing themselves in every market they have entered. Witness the Fire Phone. Or their foray into publishing, where the refusal of independent booksellers to carry their books has actually kept authors away and contributed to the recent resignation of a high-profile editor of their “literary” imprint. But for the most part, it’s hard to avoid contact. Audible.com, Good Reads, now television; if you want the most common sources of entertainment or the easiest to access, they’ve bought it or created an alternative. I may be the last person in the country without a Prime account.

My resentment of the dominance of A#%&* in every aspect of our lives has recently been supplemented by another concern. The company does not seem to be profitable. Lynne Patrick wrote here a few weeks ago about the simple concept that any business needs to make enough money to pay its bills to continue operating, and needs to show a return on investment if it hopes to keep investors. (“It’s a mystery”) Although Lynne did not mention A#%&* by name, her post was closely timed to the quarterly earnings reports, which were coupled with the company’s own forecast of even greater losses in the fourth quarter. The response is that they are investing for the future. I, too, would like to take all my sales revenue and invest it in more inventory, technology upgrades, redecorating, and many other projects that would enhance future business. Unfortunately, the electric company, the book publishers, and many others would like to be paid for the products and services they have already supplied. I’m not sure how to work around that without bankruptcy.

What if my fantasy were to come true, and there was no more A#%&*? For me, it would probably have little impact. There would be an increase in sales which would be pleasant. But what about overall book sales? The publishers and authors would suffer. More chain and independent stores would surely appear, along with additional on-line retailers. But it would take some time. The manufacturer of oddly sized envelopes would have to find an alternative for fulfilling and shipping orders. Authors who have found a place to sell their work (even at 99 cents) and get some exposure would be back to trying to drive traffic to their own websites What about all the manufacturers and retailers, large and small, who rely on this one company as their prime outlet? Every area of commerce that has been overtly or covertly infiltrated by the overpowering retailer would suffer. Alternatives would spring up, but not overnight. There would be a big hit to this slowly recovering economy. So is Amazon (there, I said it!) too big to fail? Would they get a government bailout? I wonder.

 

NOT Blogging from Bouchercon

 Marilyn Thiele

Watching all the pictures of panels and partying popping up on Facebook for the last few days has made me wonder if I made the right decision in not attending Bouchercon this year. My reasons for forgoing one of my favorite events were timing considerations. I just returned from a trip to England and France a couple of weeks ago, and the mid-November scheduling of Bouchercon comes too close to the busy holiday shopping season, which seems to have begun already. Those organized individuals who are through their lists before the rest of us have made them are browsing the shelves and ordering the more esoteric items to be sure they have them in time. It’s not the cold snap here in the East that arrived just as Bouchercon began that prompted my second thoughts, but missing the fun and excitement of spending so much time with other mystery lovers. So with Josh and Jeff, I look forward to Raleigh next year. Terri and Erin, I hope you’re having a blast.

Speaking of envy (and I was), some recent posts from other Dead Guys, namely Josh and Terri, of the “day in the life of … “ variety have made me a bit jealous. The things they do, reading manuscripts, deciding what to accept, working with authors, marketing the work to others, holding meetings to plan schedules, and much more, are not necessarily things I would be at or even want to do. What I covet are the days that seem to be planned and organized. The blessing and the curse of a retail establishment is that one never knows what the day will bring. I have thought many times about writing here describing a typical day; it’s just that there really isn’t one.

A good day starts quietly; for the most part, there are few if any customers in the first hour or so after opening. I usually arrive an hour before opening time to do some paperwork or list the things that must get done (bills paid, orders placed, books displayed on release date).  A bad start? A regular customer waiting in the parking lot because she can never remember what time I open, and, “As long as you’re here, can I just look around?” The distraction begins before I even get the lights on. I really can’t hide in my office while someone is in the shop, and it seems to be a pattern that one early shopper attracts others.  One shouldn’t complain about buyers … but I’m thinking about reactivating the unused side door in the alley so I can sneak in to my own shop!

The daily stream of readers looking for their next pleasurable entertainment is the enjoyable part of my work. I love talking about books, finding out what a customer likes to read and making suggestions, and listening to their thoughts on their most recent reads.  But there is another daily stream:  those who want to solicit the shop owner’s time, money or space and know that the door is always open. So why not walk in?  The local fundraiser is soliciting donations of money for ads in event booklets, or books for a “tricky tray.” At the least, could you put this poster in your window, and these flyers on your counter? Saying yes to all of these would solve my window decorating problem; it would look like a construction fence in the city, covered with ads. The counter would be unusable for actual business. Another self-published author wants just a little display space for his masterpiece and a consignment arrangement. The planner for the next town-wide event wants to discuss your participation. The publisher’s sales rep just happened to be in the area and decides to drop in. As does the salesperson with the latest great deal on credit card processing. And the lady with hand-made greeting cards that are sure to be a big seller if you carried them. None of these people call ahead; they know it’s much easier to say no on the telephone. The shop owner will always have a smile and listen, at least up to a certain point.

The telephone may no longer be the favored means of communication among friends and family, but it hasn’t lost its luster for sales solicitors. For every call from a customer asking to have a book held, or ordered, there are at least five offering small business loans or more credit card processing or another opportunity to enhance my on-line presence. Fortunately, more and more of these are recordings, making it easier to hang up quickly.  I’m still not sure what the friendly female voice from Google that I hear at least once a week really wants. I find it hard to be rude to a real person, so it takes a little longer to say no.  Someone suggested when I mentioned this in an earlier post that I make use of the caller-id feature. The problem is that an unknown or blocked number doesn’t mean it’s not a customer, who will go elsewhere if there is no answer. There are even legitimate calls from far away area codes, people who would like a book shipped to them. And the solicitors are very clever at disguising their identities.

It’s the nature of a retail business for the proprietor and the staff to be constantly available during business hours.  We look forward to the “interruptions” that involve finding a specific book, or suggesting others, or hearing about what customer just loved. Sometimes these involve a reordering of the day’s plans; the book order for Wednesday needs to go in Monday because a book has been promised for Tuesday. The mid-afternoon lull that allows for some shelf reorganizing or unpacking the carton of new books doesn’t always materialize. Frequently, the day ends with many additions to the to-do list and few, if any, deletions.  The days when there is help in the shop are a bit better, since someone else can field the phone calls; I’ve been known to tell Dani “I’m not here” when things are too far behind; the solicitors always want to talk to the owner. Unfortunately, the days I have help are ones I also need to attend to personal business, or I have to reveal  my presence. Not all my work is in the office. I’m looking forward to the winter months when the shop schedule goes from seven to five days a week. I miss the interaction, but I can legitimately ignore the phone and doorbell and finish at least one item I’ve started.

I know my envy of my fellow bloggers who seem to have more organized schedules is probably misplaced. No job is without interruptions, unplanned events, and reordering of priorities on the fly. And I’m fortunate that many of my daily interactions are pleasurable: after all, they’re with book lovers. But sometimes I wish I could really know what the next day will be like.

One is Good; Two May Be Better

Marilyn Thiele

When I hear friends, book group members, and customers talk about reading two, three, or even more books at one time, I have mixed emotions. Part of me is envious of people who can keep track of that many story lines, fiction or nonfiction, and jump from one to the other. Part of me wonders if they are really getting the full reading experience from any of the books.

When I read, I want to be transported to the world the book evokes. Whether it’s current day Minneapolis with John Sandford’s Lucas Davenport or 18^th century Russia in Robert K. Massie’s biography of Catherine the Great, I want to be there, in spirit if not in body. If the book doesn’t take me out of my current milieu, it’s time to find another one. It’s hard enough to transition back to reality from one book; it seems to me that multiple transitions would be more than my feeble frame could take.

My recent holiday in the UK and France created a dilemma for this “one at a time” reader. Determined to lighten up on the packing, I not only took half as much clothing as usual (and what I took was more than adequate), but limited the books. I had my iPad, on which there were several novels I hadn’t gotten to, and, of course, the ability to access pretty much anything else I wanted. So I took an “airplane” thriller for the trip over, and two other more serious mysteries, thinking that I would be deep enough into one of them for it to suffice for the return trip. (Of course, I also had The Question of the Missing Head, a gift for my son, who also gets whatever I have finished reading during my visit.) Alas, I finished Gene Kerrigan’s The Midnight Choir (excellent!) just at the end of our stay. The Chatelet Apprentice, by Jean-Francois Parot, the first in a series set in 18^th century France, looked like it was going to take a bit more concentration in the early chapters than this terrified flyer would be able to muster under stress.

I didn’t want to use my iPad on takeoff, when I need to be completely absorbed in something besides knowing that I am going to die momentarily. It seemed like the hassle of explaining or demonstrating that I was in “airplane mode,” even if that was allowed, was not worth the aggravation. I decided that the purchase of an “airplane book,” surely available at Heathrow, was the best bet. I still had the problem of what to begin reading in the meantime; I am not complete without a book in progress. I started reading Megan Abbott’s Dare Me in electronic form, thinking I would finish it first after returning home and then complete whatever thriller I had chosen for distraction. Not really reading two books at once.

My airport shopping was successful. The latest Reacher novel by Lee Child is available in paperback in the UK!  However, I find that I am now reading two books at once, a new experience, and actually quite easy. Dare Me has turned out to be an intense emotional experience, and one that I need to undergo in small pieces. I find it compelling, and keep returning to it with anticipation, but the relationships among the teenage girls and their cheerleading coach are more twisted than any adult relationships I’ve known. In fact, these are pretty much the kind of people I stay away from in the real world. Reading about them feels like voyeurism, and I can’t stay away from the fictional embodiments. And then I have to for a bit. Watching the train wreck approaching makes me close my eyes.

I switch back to more comfortable fare. Reacher’s adventures are certainly scary, but I have emotional detachment. This type of books offers me respite from daily drudgery, problems and worries. And there is no problem keeping these two fictional worlds separate. In the future, when I find myself struggling with an emotionally charged book, I will try reading some less powerful material at the same time. I can have the intensity in the small bites I can handle, and the escape when I need it.

This experience has given me some insight into why people read multiple books at the same time.  I am sure there are other reasons. What about you? Do you read more than one book at a time? And why?

 

The Man Who Never Lived and Will Never Die

Marilyn Thiele

I want to thank Dani, my intrepid assistant, for filling in for me here last week and for keeping the shop running efficiently in my absence. As to the blog post, when one says to an employee “Will you?” one is never sure that it’s not being heard as “You will,” but either way I think she enjoyed the opportunity to write about her convention after listening to all of the mystery fans here go on about Bouchercon. I’m sure she also enjoyed being free of me for nine days.

The holiday was our annual trip to London to visit our son, who lives and works there. Dedicated Anglophile that I am, I am happy to have this excuse to get to the UK regularly. Kevin and his partner, Claire, always manage to plan a “little” side trip that turns into an exciting excursion. They could have careers as travel planners if the energy industry begins to bore them. Last year it was Scotland, and the opportunity to meet our own Lynne Patrick on the way. This year it was Provence, as Claire wanted to show us her country. Having just arrived back two days ago, I am still full of the sunshine and warmth of southern France, and could go on about the scenery, the ancient hill towns, the beaches, and finding in Claire’s mother a fellow book and mystery lover. I knew there was some reason those two found each other. I got clued in to several French mystery authors, so you may find a switch from the Scandinavians in my future posts.

One pleasant surprise was arriving in London on October 15 and learning that October 17 was the opening of an exhibit at the Museum of London: “Sherlock Holmes: The Man Who Never Lived and Will Never Die.” There was time to see this exhibit after our return from France, so instead of boring you with the glamor of the Cote d’Azur, I will linger a bit in Victorian London.

The best term to describe the exhibit is “atmospheric.” In addition to some of Conan Doyle’s original manuscripts and the original lithographs of Sidney Paget’s illustrations, there were photos and paintings from the period, depicting the “dense yellow fog settled on London.” One began to feel the shadowy world in which Sherlock’s villains operated.

Entering a door numbered “221B,” one is treated to examples of the forensic tools available to Mr. Holmes, with appropriate references to the stories: an early typewriter, for the unique imprint of each letter; newspapers, open to the crime stories and personal ads through which sinister plots were uncovered by the genius detective; hats, shoes, and clothing of the times which the master of disguises used to go undercover; and chemical apparatus for determining the origin of clues such as mud or ashes. A display of codes was particularly fascinating; included were examples of Pitman shorthand, with the English Book of Common Prayer “translated.” Commentary about the army of young women who found employment through typing and shorthand skills was food for thought. There were also the requisite violin and drug paraphernalia, along with other evidence of a Bohemian existence.

One section was dedicated to the stage, film and television versions of the Great Detective, ending, of course, with Benedict Cumberbatch’s incarnation of Sherlock. Throughout the entire exhibit, there were screens with clips from early films alternating with clips from the current BBC interpretation. Seeing Basil Rathbone in the role again, I was reminded of the late nights I spent while young watching the Sherlock movies. It occurred to me that at the time there were only three stations to choose from, but always something good to watch. Why is it that now, with hundreds of choices, I can never find anything that I want to see?

Sherlock Holmes could not have gotten around London without the hansom cab. At one point, there are three maps of London with moving arrows showing his route in a particular chase or investigation. Next to each is a screen showing the same route from a car-mounted camera in today’s city. The city is brighter and cleaner, but no less crowded.

In a section on Arthur Conan Doyle’s life, there is much made of his admiration for Edgar Allan Poe, and of the fact that Doyle tried to kill off Sherlock because he felt it was distracting from his “serious” writing. My thoughts went to recent posts here about Wilkie Collins and Anna Katharine Green. I had to admit to myself that Collins and Green may have been the pioneers of the detective novel, but it was the short story writers who really got the genre going. And that, even then, the “fun” writing was belittled by many, including its creators. But it sold! Doyle ultimately had to resurrect Sherlock.

The subtitle of the exhibit is “The Man Who Never Lived and Will Never Die.” As I left the museum, I realized that I felt for the first time as if Sherlock Holmes was, and is, a living person. It’s time to reacquaint myself after many years. Basil? Benedict? The stories? Where to begin?

Note: The exhibit is on until April 12, so if anyone of our readers is in London during that time, I would highly recommend a visit. Even if you get to London after this show, the museum is well worth a visit. The history of the city from its primitive beginnings to today is displayed over several floors. On my first foray, I got only to the Great Fire. This time it was Sherlock Holmes. I want to go back to again … and again.  

 

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Comic Con!

Guest Blogger: Dani Looney 

With all the talk in the mystery world about Boucher-con, Marilyn thought it would be a good idea (which she may later regret) to let me be a guest blogger and write about my experiences at New York Comic Con.    

In the beginning, comic conventions were pretty much just for comics.  Buying and selling them, sharing the art, and premiering new story arcs.  Over time though, these conventions have become something much bigger.  Not only are they celebrating comics, but now they include a wide range of media.  Movies, television, books, and video games are all included under the umbrella of a comic convention.  Since it is now cool to be a “geek” and with the growing number of superhero movies, the explosion of gaming culture and the popularity of shows like “The Big Bang Theory”, Comic Con has become a 4 day extravaganza of all things “nerd”.   There are plenty of panels, screenings, games, vendors, and celebrities to draw even the most introverted of us out into public. Those running the show very quickly figured out that the quickest way to our hearts was to offer us a chance to buy merchandise from our favorite shows, and also offer us a chance to discuss and find out more about the things we loved.

As an avid reader and as a fan of things including, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Marvel, etc., Comic Con allows me 3 days of non-stop fun.  Not only do I get a chance to meet some of the actors portraying my favorite characters, like Sherlock’s Benedict Cumberbatch last year, but I am also surrounded by other who enjoy these things and who are just as enthusiastic as I am.  Most of us have created cosplays, costumes, of our favorite characters, and quite a few attendees put some serious time and effort into these costumes.  The creativity that attendees put into their cosplays can be seen in what they can come up with.  Just this year, I saw a man dressed as the many characters Johnny Depp has played, as well as quite a few gender bends of male characters.  We all praise each other’s creativity, take pictures, and discuss our loves without fear or worry of others thinking we are “obsessive” or “crazy” or “too involved” (and those are some of the kinder things said).  It is easy to find friends while waiting in line for a panel and begin sharing theories over what the next series of Sherlock will be like, or how we are enjoying the newest regeneration of the Doctor.  Overall con going is a very enjoyable experience and the people in charge are continually trying to make things better.  This year there was even a new harassment policy about how cosplay is not consent.  This was a very welcome reminder that just because someone is dressed up, no matter how scantily, that it is not okay to just touch and take pictures of them.  As a woman, I was very appreciative of this new policy, and how it was a reminder to people that asking before touching is a good thing. 

Now to get to the best part of Comic Con for me: the books.  Since attendance this year topped 150,000+ people a day, publishers were ready with new releases and lots of new authors.  I found myself circling the few book aisles and chatting with the people working the booths.  Many times I was friendly and polite enough to snag some free ARCs.  There were also buttons, stickers, book samplers, and tote bags just being given away as you walked past a booth.  In total, I think I walked away with eight to ten books and around six of those were free.  Some of the free books being given away were part of a signing that was going on.  I was able to meet fantasy writing veteran Robin Hobb, who was happy to hear about the independent book store I worked in and that they were still around.  Many new authors were also in attendance and were encouraged to see how busy the publishing booths could get and how many readers were out there and wanting to take a chance on a new author.  The best part of these booths was the people working them.  Their enthusiasm for books and authors was contagious and I really loved being able to share my own love of books with them.  Many of them were very encouraged at seeing how many people stopped at their booths to ask about new releases and their favorite authors.  I garnered quite a few compliments on my own female Percy Jackson cosplay, which then of course led to discussions of what we all thought of the last book in the Heroes of Olympus series, as well as a few cries of, “No spoilers! I haven’t finished yet.”

Books were not only just available on the main floor, but this year there were quite a few literary panels that were incredibly interesting to go to.  There were panels for young adult readers, Doctor Who fans, ones for fantasy fans, and ones for fans of any kind of books.  Some of my favorites were, “Damsels in Distress Need Not Apply” and “How Game of Thrones Changed Fantasy, or Did It?” .  All of these panels featured authors talking and discussing different subjects.  A big topic of many of the panels was the representation of female characters.  It was very refreshing to see authors really looking at how women are presented in books, especially these genres where it’s easy to make them damsels who do nothing but be rescued.  Many authors are noticing that a good portion of their fan base is female and is craving unique strong female characters, and they are actively trying to give us these characters.  Marvel is really trying to show that comics are not just for boys anymore and have been trying to really incorporate more female heroes, including a new incarnation of Thor where a woman is worthy of the Mjolnir as well as separate arcs for characters like Black Widow and Captain Marvel.  No longer are they in skimpy costumes and armor that only covers the “important” bits, but they are taking charge and showing everyone that they are just as capable as any of the male superheroes out there.     

Sadly, Comic Con is now over.  I had a blast and would not change a thing.  After some great panels, a few autographs, numerous lines, a few hugs for a fallen Castiel, and one very damp day as Han Solo, you would think I’d be bone tired and very sore, and truthfully I very much am.  Carrying around multiple tote bags, early mornings, and lots of walking have left me very exhausted.  There are two things I know for sure though; I don't regret a single bit of it, and I cannot wait for next year.    

The Detective Novel as Romance

Marilyn Thiele

As I read over the posts from the last week here on “Dead Guy,” a word jumped out at me from Jessy’s post last Sunday: “romance,” as in Anna Katharine Green’s preference for the term “criminal romance” over “detective novel.” I grabbed a copy of one of my favorite Victorian novels, and sure enough, my memory was correct. The book is The Moonstone: A Romance. Wherever you come out on who wrote the first detective novel (and the name of my mystery bookstore, “The Moonstone” makes my position obvious), Wilkie Collins has no claim on the first romance.

I did a little hasty research, realizing that having undergraduate and graduate degrees in English Literature does not mean I remember all that I learned. I was told once that education wasn’t learning facts, but learning where to find things, and I find some comfort in that statement. I must have known what I relearned just now. For those of you who, like me, get invitations to college reunions, are shocked by the anniversary to be celebrated, do a little mental math, and exclaim in dismay that it can’t be that long, I will summarize my findings.

Disclaimer: This is a very quick summary, not a dissertation. I skipped a lot!

The term “romance languages” refers to those modern languages derived from Latin, but the “vulgar” Latin of the common people. The “romance” literature of the Middle Ages consisted of stories of adventure, knights, heroic deeds and marvelous incidents, written or recited for entertainment. (The modern French word for “novel” is “roman.”) The extension of the term “romance” to include a love story occurred in the mid-17^th century. The evolution of the term to include any type of adventurous tale occurred in the early 19^th century. The “romance novel” as we know it, referring almost exclusively to stories of love affairs, is a mid-20^th century development.

 The 19^th century saw the growth of the novel into the dominant form of Western literature. Any good work of fiction has elements of suspense and adventure; it’s what keeps the reader turning pages. So why were some tales of adventure, mystery, or love subtitled “Romance” and others not? Why did Collins call The Moonstone a “romance” while his close friend Dickens, whose characters underwent a great deal of adventure, did not use the term? We can understand why the subtitle of Ivanhoe is also “A Romance.” But a detective novel?

The Moonstone, while primarily a tale of exposing the perpetrator of a theft and his motivation, includes an earlier theft of the same diamond from an idol in India during a military campaign and mysterious eastern men pursuing their property in England. There are elements of the supernatural in the legends surrounding the gem and eerie happenings that may be related to the original desecration of the idol. The atmosphere is often creepy; I still remember my first reading of the description of the quivering quicksand that ultimately swallows one character. These elements put the novel in the tradition of Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, even though Sergeant Cuff is the forerunner of the classical detective. He collects real evidence, sizes up the credibility of witnesses, and searches for real motivation (follow the money!).  

The novels of Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, George Eliot, Anthony Trollope and many other great 19^th-century English novelists contained the “love” element, but they were primarily realistic, often critical, pictures of various levels of society, comparable to today’s “literary” fiction. The “romances” were comparable to our “genre” fiction. Alas, even then, there were those snobs who looked down on the good stuff.

I confess to not having read Anna Katharine Green, and Jessy’s posts have piqued my interest. Since Ms. Green preferred the term “criminal romance,” I wonder if there are elements of the romantic tradition in her work. The familiar elements of the detective novel that she introduced do not seem to have the same spooky, sinister flavor that Collins chose. Jessy?

 

The Power of the Pen

 

Marilyn Thiele

I try to stay away from all those quizzes on Facebook. I don’t really need to know which fantasy character I am or what my career should be (I think it’s a little late for another change at this point). But I can’t resist the ones that give me a chance to show how smart I am. Of course, I’m selective. After all, I want to reinforce my self-image (matching authors to titles, vocabulary), not be reminded of what I don’t know (music, art, film). Recently a lot of Geography quizzes have come across my news feed, shared by high school friends, who also are happily reassured that our faculties are not failing yet. We had to study Geography as a separate class for an entire year (7^th grade), and although a lot has changed since then, the states and capitals are still the same, as are the locations of continents. We also were taught to read newspapers and magazines for information and to place on a mental map the area under discussion. Thus, I believe our training has allowed us to keep up with the moving boundaries and changing names, despite the media’s efforts to eliminate such extraneous information in favor of celebrity updates.

I plan at some future date to rant about examples of why it is no longer a rational idea to tell young readers to peruse news, printed or on-line, in order to improve vocabulary and grammar. For now, my thoughts are back in those golden years of primary and secondary education. Remember that separate class in “Civics”? We learned how the government works. Of course, now that we are older we know how it REALLY works, but at least we understand the ideal. When asked the three branches of government, my classmates and I are not likely to respond, “Police Department, Fire Department, and Post Office,” one current student’s answer.  

Geography, Civics, History: all now combined into “Social Studies,” and all given short shrift. At least the vestiges remain. The subject that is on the brink of extinction is Handwriting. No more circling with the clutched pencil, no more letters with fancy loops tacked above the blackboard, no more lined paper to show where the tops (and bottoms) of the letters should go. The handwritten report has yielded to the keyboard. The tortured hours spent obeying those lines, remembering where the loops went, correctly connecting the letters (I still can’t deal with “j” and “q”) did not create a society with lovely, legible penmanship. Everyone developed their own style, from flowing to chicken scratching. Or is it our own style? I have observed that my handwriting is amazingly like my father’s. My son’s is an almost an exact match for his father, who died before he was born. My husband tells me that his writing resembles that of one of his aunts’. Whether our penmanship is genetic or acquired, all those circles and worksheets had little impact on what our cursive writing looks like now.

Still, we learned cursive writing. Handwritten notes in class and handwritten reports were the norm, because there was no alternative. I remember getting extra credit for typewritten reports in high school, having been fortunate enough to be able to take a touch-typing class and to have been given a typewriter as a gift from my godfather. (One aside from this early feminist: The best piece of advice I was given upon graduation from college was never to admit that I could type. I would wind up with a typist’s job no matter what I was really hired to do. I kept my secret, but saw what happened to those who didn’t.)

Now “keyboarding” is a required subject, and students take notes on little tablets (but not with chalk!). The report is spell-checked, there are no “white-outs," and the printed form is required. The advantages are obvious: neater work, teachers who can focus on the content of the submission rather than trying to decipher it, students who can easily edit without rewriting pages and pages. However, the advantages of using the keyboard rather than the pen to take notes seem to be coming into question.

I have always enjoyed the physical act of writing and find myself at times copying quotations I want to remember in longhand rather than cutting and pasting or typing. The words seem to find a place in my brain when laboriously copied. I am an inveterate note taker and list maker. Once I have written something with pen and paper, it stays with me whether or not I ever look at the paper again. When notes or lists or dates are entered on the phone, it’s as if I never saw them. And I don’t have the discipline to rigorously check my little machine. I assumed that this was one of the many quirks of this odd, out-of-touch relic of a former time. Some recent research indicates that my “quirk” is the way the human mind works, and that the substitution of keyboards for pens in note-taking may not be one of the improvements technology has brought us.

An article in The Washington Post last April entitled “Why students using laptops learn less in class even when they really are taking notes” described studies showing that students typing notes were inclined to write verbatim what they heard, with the brain as a pass-through device between ear and hand. Those who took notes the slower, old-fashioned way, had to synthesize and summarize the information, picking up on key words and ideas, thus engaging parts of the brain beyond those needed for the mechanics of typing. In addition, those students frequently “recopied” their notes as a form of study, filling in what they were unable to get on paper the first time, thus reinforcing the information.

It would seem then that those who use electronic devices should slow down and use their brains in the same way as those writing in longhand. Easier said than done. Research subjects found it difficult if not impossible to stop typing verbatim notes, and other research has shown that the hand has a “unique relationship with the brain when it comes to composing thoughts and ideas.”  So my use of handwritten notes to implant information in my brain is not a quirk, but the way the human body is wired.

New technologies lead to the temptation to throw away the older methods which appear to be of no further use. Physical books seem (to some) no longer necessary. (You knew I’d get to that, didn’t you?) Teaching cursive writing has been belittled as a waste of time. It would be better to use the old and the new, each for the tasks to which they are best suited. Use the laptop for creating legible, well-edited papers and reports; but teach the young to write by hand so that they can use the full capacity of the brain. And maybe a little Geography and Civics wouldn’t hurt.

That Will Be $5 Please

Marilyn Thiele

We’re all becoming familiar with the latest trend in the airline industry: those little “perks” (food, checked baggage, leg room) that used to be a means of attracting customers are now available only for a fee. Hotels are charging “guests” for clean linens, exercise rooms, and many other items that used to be free. Recently I heard of someone’s being charged $25 to print a boarding pass. The concept of beating the competition on service and amenities has given way to the bottom line. If you have to compete on price alone, then the costs of the business must be cut to the bone, and every “extra” has a cost and thus a price.

Sad to say, some recent reports from authors lead me to believe that this mindset has invaded the bookselling world. The image of the gracious small bookshop, careful to maintain the image of being a bit above any show of “filthy commerce,” has already been diminished by the large chain stores. Now it seems that in order to survive, some shops are following the lead of other industries in charging for what used to be a normal expense of the business. My information is anecdotal, and I would be interested in any comments indicating how widespread some of these practices have become.

First I heard that a local author had been asked to pay a fee to have a book signing at another shop. I know that authors of a certain stature are paid for appearances, but this is the first I have heard of the reverse. These events consume some time and money of the bookseller, who often does publicity, serves refreshments, and, of course, stocks the books. It also takes up the author’s time and resources in travel, preparation, and answering the audience question “How do I get published?” The financial compensation to bookseller and author is in book sales. The additional benefit, we hope, is in drawing attention to both the author and the shop.  There is always the risk for both that no one will come, and much time is spent by both parties looking for a “hook” that will increase attendance.

Independent booksellers are approached almost weekly by self-published, small-press-published, or mainstream-but-first-book-published authors requesting signing events. I have hosted events for all three categories, but it never occurred to me to charge for them. If I think what is being offered is cr--, I politely decline. It would be hard to promote something I don’t think has potential, and I haven’t figured out the price at which I would sacrifice the trust I have built with my customers.

Next, I learned that another bookshop was selling advertising for books in its customer newsletter. Wow! I would get my intermittent newsletter out a lot more often if it was a paying proposition. I have not seen this newsletter, so I can only hope that the ads are clearly marked as such. I’m a bookseller, not a reviewer, but I think the same ethic applies: it should be clear if there is compensation for recommending a particular work.

“Ticketing” book-signing events is becoming more common. There is an admission charge, and it is the price of the book. You must buy the book to attend. This practice began to prevent attendees from purchasing the book on A#*[email protected]% and bringing it for signing at the local bookshop. There is nothing wrong with requiring any books presented for signing to be purchased at the shop, and unless the event is huge, is not hard to monitor. Most attendees come with the intention of making a purchase, but I think it is justifiable to decide after hearing an author that the book is not the customer’s cup of tea. There are, of course, a few “regulars” who come for the entertainment and never purchase, but that is just part of the business.

Times are tough for both authors and booksellers. Marketing budgets at publishing houses have been slashed. It seems that the cost of the two-page spread in the New York Times Book Review for an author whose book will be No. 1 on “The List” no matter what could be better spent on the many fine works sitting unread because only small shops are promoting them, but that is a topic for another time. Most authors find that after the book is published, the work is not complete but just beginning; now they have to sell it. The independent bookseller has to deal with giant retailers who are selling books at or below the price the bookseller without market power pays for the same item. Is it wrong for the author who has poured years of blood, sweat, and lost family time into his effort to pay a bookseller who is struggling daily to keep the doors open to recommend his work? If it comes to that, something valuable will be lost in the bookselling world.

In a post earlier this year, Jessy Randall suggested that bookstores might need to begin charging an admission fee for browsers. I responded by pointing out that those who appreciated the physical display of books, the bookseller’s expertise, and the general ambiance, could support that effort by buying books. An idea that seemed preposterous to me at the time (we aren’t museums yet!) now has some appeal. Perhaps a $5 entrance fee, to be credited toward a purchase if one is made?  It seems that bookselling may be going the way of airlines and hotels: if you want what used to be included in the package, you must pay an additional charge for it. Maybe I’m getting too old for modern commerce – retirement may be closer than I thought.

What We're Watching (and Reading) Now

Marilyn Thiele

Now that the summer rush is about to end, it’s time to think seriously again about ordering books for the shop in a less frenetic fashion. In the spring, thoughts are about what will be popular for vacation reading. Laying hands on copies of the summer reading lists of the local schools is another chore; the schools’ websites are becoming inaccessible to outsiders, and curriculum planners may or may not take the time to respond to a request for a list. Customers with kids turn out to be the best resource. Once the season begins, it seems more time is spent restocking  (“We’re out of Maze Runner again!”) or ordering items you didn’t think would be big, but turned out to be.

Only a few years ago, I could peruse the biannual New York Times Sunday section listing films to be released in the next several months, and feel comfortable that stocking books on which forthcoming films were based would satisfy demand for those who want both the written and visual versions. I just had to be careful to get the right book cover; most of my customers hate (as I do) the “media tie-in” covers. The physical book looks dated in a very short time, whether it’s still on my shelf or in the customer’s library. When I have tried having both versions on display, the non-media copies are the ones that sell. I have had customers say it cheapens written work , and I agree.  A while back, the standard cover for As I Lay Dying was temporarily out of stock, and so I went with the movie tie-in cover. I overheard a customer saying that he wanted the book, but couldn’t stand looking at James Franco. He was willing to wait for a “real” copy.

More recently, I find that being aware of upcoming film releases is only half the job when it comes to ordering for media-related books. The burgeoning  number of series television shows on HBO, Netflix, STARZ, and who knows how many other outlets  has created a huge market for the books on which they are based. The Game of Thrones series was always popular with fantasy fans and a steady seller. It has now become mainstream, has moved from my Fantasy section to a more central display area, and requires a quick inventory check whenever I am placing an order, especially if a new season is beginning. Outlander is beginning to follow the same pattern.

I am not a big TV or film fan. What leisure time I have is usually spent reading. I am tempted by some of the ongoing (and completed) TV  series, but will probably wind up “binge-watching” if we have another bad winter. Thus I have to rely on written sources to find out what’s happening. With the advent of the mini-and maxi-series trend, I find myself making notes while reading the newspaper or magazines so that I can anticipate which books will be in demand.

My totally unscientific observation (and from one who is not a filmgoer) is that there has been a steady increase over the last few years in the number of movies based on bestselling (or classic) books, and more recently, based on young adult fiction. I feared for a while that this trend would decrease the interest in books. I have heard the comment, particularly from young visitors to my shop who are being encouraged by a parent to choose a particular book, “I saw the movie. I don’t need to read the book!”  Fortunately, this sentiment appears to be the minority view and is usually expressed by reluctant readers. Film and TV versions of books are increasing sales. Some want to read the book before seeing the film. Others love the film and realize that the written version probably contains character development, subplots, and details missing from the visual version. (I wonder how the upcoming film of Gone Girl can possibly contain all the plot reversals of the book, even if it is 2 ½  hours long.)

Certainly the Game of Thrones and Outlander television shows have introduced book series that have been ongoing for years, but limited to audiences of Fantasy or Time-Travel Romance fans, to mainstream readers. Both are deserving of this wider audience and offer much more than their previous “genre” classifications implied. Readers who never read fantasy and have completed the Game of Thrones volumes are looking for more books in a similar vein: Thus the increase in sales of Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles.  More important, readers are expanding their horizons and discovering that this “genre” stuff might be every bit as good as the “literary” works they have limited themselves to in the past.

Keeping up with what’s happening in the film, television, and on-line entertainment worlds means a little more work for the bookseller who wants to offer the consumer the print versions of their favorite shows or movies. But if these other media are leading readers back to books, showing them the advantages of the written word, and causing them to seek out more books, even if they haven’t been filmed (yet), it’s well worth it.

Having it Both Ways

Marilyn Thiele

I didn’t think I would ever again address the print vs. e-book issue in this forum, or any other. It seems to me that e-books have settled in as another format for reading, but are not going to replace my beloved printed tomes. Earlier this month, Erin Mitchell wrote about her preference for having copies of books in both formats, to allow reading most comfortably depending on circumstances. I had not been aware that some readers want this option, but it makes perfect sense. Reading is a pleasant activity. Why not make it as pleasant for yourself as possible? Erin’s comment that there’s not a right or wrong format for books is absolutely correct. To each his own, or to each, both.

I would dispute her statement that booksellers see the e-book as a threat; I think most of us know that they are here to stay and that there are plenty of readers who still want print versions. The threat is the predatory pricing of the print versions by certain retailers. The opportunity to sell e-books, or “bundles” of both is something we would welcome, but at this point the only truly viable option for doing that is to partner with a company whose track record of tolerating competition or any retail channels that it does not dominate is less than sterling.

Two incidents in the last few weeks have brought the e-book debate back to the front of my mind. The first was the latest round in ongoing Amazon/Hachette contretemps. I enjoyed the back and forth, the on-line comments, and the letters to the New York Times regarding the misunderstanding (misuse?) of George Orwell’s work as much as anyone. But in Amazon’s latest volley there was a more troubling comment. Several years ago, Jeff Bezos stated his determination to rid the world of printed books, which he considers an outdated technology that must be destroyed. I haven’t heard this aspiration from him for a while, and I thought he had come to an acceptance of the coexistence of the printed and digital word. Not so; he has reiterated his desire to do away with paper books. I resent him more as a reader than I do as a bookseller. Apparently, this quest has just been on the back burner until he has enough power to start the burning.

The other occurrence that brought me to the e-book world was a phone call from an author whose first book is being released next month and who wants to include my shop in his book tour.  We set a tentative date, and the author offered to send an ARC for my Kindle. Fortunately, we had already had a lengthy conversation and I had positive feelings toward him. I explained that I did not have a Kindle, nor would I ever have one. I don’t think I ranted too much, but I explained that when he talked to independent booksellers, it might be best not make such an offer. We know that authors have to deal with the giant, and don’t hold it against them. But we can still make a stand in our small way. We settled on his attempting to get a version for my iPad, and within a few hours, the attempt was successful.

I haven’t read an electronic book for months, if not a year or more. I have started some on my iPad, and switched to the paper version because it is more enjoyable for me. If I am reading for a book group, or a possible review, I like to take notes. I know I can do it on that infernal keyboard, but I prefer a few pieces of scrap paper stored in the back of the book. I simply like the feel of paper over plastic and metal. But now I had a book for which I had only one option. On the plus side, I can read on my deck for a longer time as the light fades earlier and earlier in the evening. When I was annoyed the first time I tucked myself in bed with the reader because it was too bright, I recalled (it really has been a while!) that I could fix that. My husband finds it a lot less annoying than my reading light. On the negative side, as the eyelids drooped and the fingers loosened, I got whacked on the nose and startled awake. (I’m extremely nearsighted and hold the book very close when reading in bed.) The awakening reminded me that I should close the reader rather than let it rest comfortably until I rolled over on it. On the plus side again, it kept my place, saving some time the next day.

Knowing that most of the people I talk to about books are not a representative sample (they are, after all in my shop to buy printed versions), I decided to branch out a bit. I questioned my hairdresser. I know she reads voraciously and almost exclusively on her Kindle. She comes to my shop to buy gift books: board books for baby showers or Lean In for a young woman graduate, but never buys for herself. As she tried to make me look younger than my years, I asked why she preferred electronic reading, expecting answers such as “instant availability of the book I want” or “convenience of having several books at once and never running out.” The truth was a little different. I also asked what types of books she likes. She couldn’t tell me titles she had read recently, only that they cost 99 cents, and some were really good and some were really terrible. Even if I had electronic books on offer, I doubt that I would be her preferred retailer.

Technology gives us more options to enjoy the arts. It’s not an “either / or” limitation but a “both” expansion. I can stick to my preferred book format whenever possible, but I have access electronically to works which are not available on paper, whether they be long out-of-print classic mysteries or ARCs from an independent publisher. Those who find the e-reader more comfortable can download to their heart’s content. Those who switch between formats can have it both ways. Those who choose their reading by price have limitless possibilities. The only frustration with the current alternatives that I have heard expressed is from my patrons who do not have electronic readers, and who are “completists.” They see a list of their favorite author’s works in order, and wonder why they have not read No. “6.5,” which turns out to be a novella in the series, only available electronically. I explain the situation, and that the “book” would probably not have been published otherwise. They sigh and move on.

Film did not replace live theater. Photography did not replace painting.  Recorded music did not replace opera, or orchestras, or rock band concerts. New technologies offer more availability, not less. Why then, does someone feel that his preferred format should eliminate all others? Perhaps because it’s the one where he has the best chance of total domination and control.

 

Seeing Home Through Someone Else's Eyes

Marilyn Thiele

I love Hunterdon County, New Jersey, where I live and work. It’s one of the most beautiful places on earth, with farms, forests, rolling hills, and charming small towns. Halfway between New York and Philadelphia, it’s off the beaten path, yet close enough to those cities to make theater, museums and any other cultural activities one might want easily accessible. Drive for less than 2 hours east, and you are at the wonderful beaches of New Jersey. Go an even shorter distance west, and you are in the mountains of Pennsylvania.

While there are many enchanting towns (some mere crossroads) within the county, those along the Delaware River are the best known. The canal and towpath that once made them trading centers for the export of agricultural products have been repurposed into a delightful recreational area, offering a route for hiking, biking, and accessing tubing and other activities on the river. The factories that produced paper, pottery, and multitudes of other goods are now filled with artists, craftsmen, and purveyors of antiques.

Hunterdon County is celebrating its 300^th anniversary this year, and there seem to be events from house tours to parades to concerts to historical and cultural lectures almost daily. The committee of volunteers organizing these events has been tireless, and the rest of us, in our individual towns and businesses, have learned to work around their schedule in planning our own activities. The event of the day today was a talk and book signing by Elizabeth Gilbert, whose most recent novel  has been weeks on bestseller lists, and whose 2007 memoir, Eat Pray Love  cannot have escaped anyone’s notice, especially after Julia Roberts played the author in the film version.  I was privileged to be the bookseller for the event. I had not met Liz before, and was glad to have the opportunity to spend some time with her both before and after the event. “Liz” may sound overly familiar, but she has become such a part of the community, and I know so many people who are friends or acquaintances of hers, that I find it hard to refer to her more formally.

Liz lives in one of the “river towns,” Frenchtown. She and her husband have a business there, “Two Buttons,” a shop full of items they have found on their world travels and sell from a resurrected ceramics factory, a remnant of the glorious industrial days of the area. She does her writing at home and helps at the shop in between.

The talk this afternoon was about her concepts of creativity and inspiration, and outlined the “story behind the story” of each of her books. The question and answer period was full of the usual “How do I get published?” questions. I was impressed with how forcefully Liz told one questioner that the key is persistence. He seemed a little shocked to hear that she had gone through six years of rejections before her first short story was published. She talked of her determination, taking each rejected manuscript and sending it out again, working constantly to improve each one. I have heard  many similar stories from published authors, and am still amazed at how many aspiring writers think that typing “The End” means publication next week.

But the question and answer that prompted this post had nothing to do with writing: “Why, after traveling the whole world, and having the means to live anywhere you want, did you come to Hunterdon County?”  Liz said that several years ago she visited a friend who lived in another small town on the river. As she explored the area, she thought, “How did I not know this was here?” Before the travels that formed the basis of Eat Pray Love, she had lived in Connecticut and New York, and had visited New Jersey, but had missed this little gem in the western part of the state. She knew that this was the place where she wanted to make her home. And she did.

It was a wonderful afternoon. I finally met Liz Gilbert, who everyone else seemed to know. I sold lots of books. But most of all, I saw the place I moved to thirty years ago more by accident than plan through the eyes of someone who chose it above anyplace else on earth.  It was a perfect reminder of how fortunate I am.

The Puzzle Master

At the end of May, and the beginning of summer, I wrote here about the anticipation of summer reading and offered some of my own plans and suggestions. At midsummer, I’ve decided it’s time for a book report. I suggested John Verdon for those who like a “can’t put it down” thriller, although at that point I had read only one of his four novels. I have finished all of them now, and each is as good as, if not better than, the first.  

 Dave Gurney is a retired NYPD homicide detective. He is only in his late forties, but he has decided it is time to leave a job that has devoured him, heart and soul, and make up for the neglect visited on his wife and adult son while his work consumed him. He and Madeleine have bought a large property in the Catskills where they can enjoy nature and become part of a community. What Dave did not reckon with is his own nature. He doesn’t miss New York, but he misses unraveling puzzles. He was highly commended in his NYPD work for solving the most difficult murders. Now he is challenged by building a chicken coop that will keep out foxes and other predators.

Dave is sought out by people who are entangled in seemingly inexplicable situations. He resists getting involved, even when the “consulting fee” is exorbitant, but ultimately gives in. His need is not for money, but for the challenge of the puzzle. And the puzzles are some of the most intricately constructed I have ever encountered in my reading. The crimes themselves are usually bizarre, more gruesome than I normally enjoy reading about. They are committed in ways that seem impossible. The shocking murders (a bride decapitated on her wedding day, a son shot at his mother’s funeral) combined with clues like footprints that lead nowhere or voices in an empty room let us know we are dealing with a killer who is ruthless, highly motivated, brilliant, and insane. Dave loves nothing more than unraveling, bit by bit, both the method of the murder and the twisted thinking that has led to it.

Verdon’s novels are worth reading for the puzzles alone. The reader is challenged to figure out, with Dave, the how and why of the crime. The ghastly means used are actually part of the riddle, and, as such, are less repugnant to the reader than gore for the sake of cheap thrills.

 For those of us who are demanding enough to expect both a great plot and appealing, or at least interesting, characters, Verdon does not disappoint. Dave fights the truth about himself: he is only feels  alive when he is solving a mystery. He can remember every detail of a crime scene but not that his wife told him they are having dinner guests. Yet he loves his wife and would like to devote himself to things like raising chickens. Madeleine, who had hopes that the move to the country would cause Dave to pay more attention to family life, is frustrated, yet accepting of who he is. She sees the transformation from torpor to animation in him when he is faced with an enigma. Frequently, she becomes the sounding board for his analysis, and offers insights which advance the plot.

Jack Hardwick is a state police detective who, along with his very rough edges, has a deep resentment toward this hotshot city detective who seems to get involved in Jack’s most difficult cases. For all his surface appearance as the overweight, loudmouthed, rash stereotypical country cop, he also has a keen mind and a desire to solve intractable crimes. Over the course of the four novels, he and Dave develop a grudging respect for each other’s talents, even if it is expressed with dripping sarcasm and insults. Hardwick’s mind and mouth both made me look forward to his appearance in each book.

The characters who support the individual plots are also well drawn. Frequently they are hiding secrets and give misleading or deceptive information for reasons unrelated to the crime. This deceit gives Dave more questions to answer and another set of motivations to unravel.

The pacing of the narrative is almost perfect. As the suspense builds, we are gently distracted by domestic events, such as the almost forgotten dinner party. Even there, the conversation leads Dave to some new ideas and causes one of the guests to call the next day with a potential clue. Every scene builds to the resolution, but the reader is given a breather from the intensity.

The novels have one feature I rarely see in contemporary fiction. The chapters actually have titles. They range from “Darker, Colder, Deeper,” somewhat nebulous, to “The Return of the Shepherd,” telling us that a serial killer from the distant past may not be as inactive as the detectives thought. I’m not sure they are necessary to the reading experience, but I admire an author who takes the time to summarize a chapter in a few words.

If you like to follow the evolution of ongoing characters and relationships, I recommend you read Verdon’s novels in order: Think of a Number, Shut Your Eyes Tight, Let the Devil Sleep and Peter Pan Must Die. If you are interested only in plot, any of them will keep you captivated. Warning: Don’t start unless you have nothing pressing to do.

Unsolved Mysteries

My arch-nemesis has been in the news a couple of times in the last few days. It would seem to be another opportunity for a rant from the independent bookseller, but I promise to try to avoid complaining. The news items actually gave me pause as I tried to figure out how the world works. Yes, at my age, I’m still trying to figure it out.

The news of Amazon’s greater than expected quarterly loss (note that “greater than expected”; nobody was expecting them to actually make money) caused an almost 10% drop in their stock price. Incidentally, this drop in value lowered Jeff Bezos’ net worth by about 3 billion dollars. Of course, that is a smaller percentage loss to him than it would be to me. What amazes me is that it has taken so long for investors to notice that a major company is losing money; as I looked at a chart of the stock’s value over the last five years, there is a steady upward trend until this year. I have wondered for a long time why this is true. I thought perhaps investors were looking forward to the day that no one could make a purchase anywhere else, Amazon increased the price of goods to all-time highs, and years of losses would be recouped in a few short months. But let’s face it: investors today aren’t looking at the long term. The quarterly bottom line is all that counts, much to the detriment of research and development which would be expensive now but bring great rewards in the future. Why has Amazon gotten a pass on this short-term profit  mind-set, at least until this week? And is the drop just a glitch? I don’t understand the world of finance, but I do understand that you can’t stay in business if you don’t make money, and that many a business has collapsed under the stress of over-expansion. I guess the answer to this puzzle remains to be revealed.

The other Amazon news that caught my eye this week was the announcement of “Kindle Unlimited.” This new service allows readers unlimited access to Amazon’s “library” of about 600,000 titles for $9.99 a month.  My mind-set being what it is, my first thought was “What are they up to now?” I am not fond of reading e-books, and if I do download one, or a few, it’s because I’m traveling and don’t want to pack my suitcase with books, allowing no room for clothing. I am perfectly happy to pay the price at iBooks. Thus I was not aware until I did a little research that there are already at least two other similar services, Scribd and Oyster, which have extensive libraries and increasing subscriber bases. As a seller of traditional books that you can hold, feel, smell, and use as a face covering while sleeping outdoors, I have been paying less and less attention to the electronic book world. There are paper book readers and electronic book readers, some adamantly attached to their chosen format and some willing to cross over as the situation dictates. I looked into selling e-books through my shop, but concluded that the projected revenue would not be worth the aggravation and time. The Kobo system for independent shops is complicated, at least for the retailer, and still needs some technical shaking out. Customers who would purchase through my business would do it to be supportive, but for most consumers, there are too many better options. So I concentrate on the (many, thank goodness) readers who prefer paper.

Further reading about Amazon’s new offering yielded some interesting insights into subscription plans. Amazon’s “library,” which appears huge on the surface, currently consists primarily of titles from their own publishing imprints, self-published e-books, and some older titles. They have not reached agreements with any of the Big 5 publishers for this service, so don’t expect to find most of the newest bestsellers, or any of the “Prime Crime” cozies that are so popular. These will have to be purchased separately. Given the current antipathy between the large publishing firms and Amazon, it may be a while before these books are available. In fairness, I have to point out that I also learned that the other subscription services started with libraries that were limited, if not in numbers, in “name recognition.” Amazon’s other offerings of this type, in music and movies, started with limited offerings and grew over time.

I wondered how these services actually make money. If every subscriber read 3 books a week, certainly the fees to the publishers would exceed the revenue collected. I found that the average is actually 1 book a month. There are some heavy users, just as there are of Netflix, but in general, people don’t have the time to read (or watch too many movies). So the average subscriber is paying $9.99 a book. Hmmm! That number rings a bell. My suspicion, based on nothing but personal experience, is that many people subscribe to services they use rarely or never. They forget to cancel, especially if there is an initial “free” period of time, or optimistically believe that “next month” they will use the service. My own example is my membership at the Y; I really am going to start exercising regularly, and I don’t want the hassle of signing up again when I’m ready. I wasn’t able to find numbers of dormant subscribers, but my intuition is that there are a lot. There are similar “frequent” buyer plans in the physical book world, where customers pay a yearly membership fee and receive discounts and other perks. Often the discounts don’t reach, much less exceed, the cost of the membership, but people continue to join.

So what have I figured out about how the world works? People invest in unprofitable businesses. Consumers purchase subscriptions or memberships for things they use rarely or never. Why? That’s still a mystery to me.

 

Tell Me Again How Much Time Technology is Saving Me

Marilyn Thiele

For a while last week I was having nightmares about being surrounded by cartons of books, unable to escape from  a shop filled with boxes, and more arriving every minute. Normally dreaming of a room full of books, cartons of new treasures to unpack, would cause me to awake with a smile. Now I was filled with dread; what would UPS surprise me with today?

It began, as these events do, with a relatively simple problem. In late June, as I opened my expected order from Baker & Taylor, I found a small box with four books I had not ordered. On closer examination, I realized that they were part of a shipment of “NPR Featured Reads,” a program for booksellers that Baker & Taylor had offered over a year earlier. The plan was that a shipment of books featured on NPR would be sent every two months with promotional materials such as shelf-talkers. The bookseller was committed to a full year of the program, but unsold books were returnable without the usual restocking charge. The program did not function as advertised; the first shipment was two months late, the second arrived four months later, and after a third shipment in January, there were no more. I received no information about the program, and assumed it had been discontinued. I had returned most of the books unsold, and guessed that others had had as little success as I.   

When I e-mailed the contact for this program, I learned that there had been several notifications sent about the status of the program, which I had not received. I was asked whether I was still receiving other e-mails from Baker & Taylor. I have been, from accounting to marketing to data base changes. Apparently “the computer” had a problem, and so I was unaware of the new shipment and changes to the program. I was assured that I would be removed from the program, and sent a return shipping label. I was also assured that the rest of the total shipment for June, which was again delayed, would be cancelled. The next week I received a large box, more NPR books. And two days after that, another carton. My contact was on vacation. Although I e-mailed the “alternate” person named in the auto-reply I received from the vacationer, and the vacationer picked up  my original request and copied me on a memo to a third contact requesting assistance with this problem, nothing was done.

Two days after what I fervently hoped was the last of the NPR books arrived, my cheerful UPS delivery man entered with a hand truck fully loaded with six large cartons. They were from a publisher in Florida with whom  I have never done business. A bit of detective work with the enclosed packing list revealed that they were destined for a school in California. The shipping labels, however, were correctly addressed to my shop. You may now understand the basis of my nightmare.

When two days later UPS arrived to pick up the California-bound volumes, the driver laughed and said, “Somebody pushed the wrong button.” I’m not sure if that was exactly the problem, but obviously there was both a computer and a human error. The publisher in Florida promptly dealt with the problem; I am  still trying to get credit for the NPR books, although they have been returned.

Modern life seems to be filled with these “computer glitches,” some more irritating and time-consuming than others. When I moved several business and personal back accounts to a small local bank in town, (after the other small banks I had dealt with had been bought up by the impersonal monsters that are more interested in marketing their investment programs than providing customer service), it seemed that the system could not handle sending my personal account statements to my home and my business statements to my business. If I changed the address on one account, it was changed on all. The branch manager did some digging, and found out that their IT department had decided that it would be convenient  for customers to have their accounts “linked,” whether the customer wanted that or not. The branch manager also found a way to work around the system, and I am happily getting my paper (Luddite that I am) statements at the proper location.

Lately I have been irritated with “autoplay” videos on websites. I flip to CNN during the day to see what’s happening, and it seems every article has an accompanying video of some talking head telling me  what I would just as soon read (and the written material has more detail) and with no way to stop it. I e-mailed CNN one day in a fit of pique, complaining. I received a reply telling me that they “appreciated my input” ending, with a statement that translated to “By the way, dummy, you can turn off autoplay.” OK, I admit that I’m no techno-whiz. I did a little research, and actually found something on Google that told me how to fix my default settings on Facebook so that I didn’t have to watch a mother cat retrieving her kittens from a sliding board over and over while I read another post. But no luck with CNN.  So I e-mailed again, asking, politely this time, how to turn off autoplay: Was it done on the website, or was there something I could do in my browser? The response this time informed me that there was no way at this time to turn off the videos in CNN. Two enquiries, two different answers; which is true?

It may surprise those who know me and my love-hate relationship with technology that I spent the first decade (and a bit more) of my working life as a computer programmer and then system designer. That was back in the day when we had several large rooms devoted to containing what I now carry in my pocket. But some things haven’t changed. Every program has just one more “bug” in it. The system isn’t any good if the user’s needs haven’t been taken into account. And when the “bug” manifests itself, it takes a human to figure out what went wrong – and fix it.

The examples I have cited are minor irritations and part of modern life. None of them have earth-shattering consequences, although trying to get the errors corrected consumes time that could be used on more productive endeavors.  The human intervention in solving the problem makes the difference between a quick fix and an ongoing problem. The bank manager wants my business and took the time to find out what had to be done; the publisher in Florida has an employee who cared about getting books to the right customer. In contrast, the contacts I have at Baker & Taylor don’t understand how their system works or how to fix it and don’t want to invest the time in figuring it out. Likewise CNN: some IT genius decided that autoplay was good for their viewers, and it’s not clear if it can be disabled or not.

Time Magazine’s July 21 Cover Article “World War Zero” points up that the same type of erroneous assumptions in systems design, mistakes in implementation, and lack of concern or understanding by the people responsible can lead to severe consequences when they involve software that controls our financial, utility, military and other critical systems. Reading how hackers are exploiting that “one last bug” while technology companies put out barely tested software planning to patch it as the problems become evident (if the right person gets the complaint!) gave me worse nightmares than the room full of book cartons ever did!

Independent, But not Free

Marilyn Thiele

A small group of business owners in our town meets periodically (actually, sporadically) to discuss problems and ideas we would like to bring to the larger business organization in town. We sponsor a few activities, such as a “People and Pets” Easter parade, but mostly it’s coffee and bagels and chat. Amazingly, this group has not morphed into a gripe group, but has come up with suggestions that the larger organization, too big to engage in this type of conversation if all members were present, has taken to heart. The latest example is better signage, both directional and on the individual businesses, which will require some modification to the town’s ordinances.

At yesterday morning’s meeting one topic was businesses that are closing and why. The owner of the candy shop was present, and she is closing this month. We all understood her reasons: her lease was up, the winter and early spring were spent operating at a loss, and the struggle after many years had just worn her out. She got a lot of sympathy from the rest of us. All of us with small retail businesses wonder regularly if we are just stubbornly swimming against the tide, if we should just face reality and get a job with regular pay and hours.

The owner of the other shop which has closed was not present, but her sister, who has owned a café in town for many years, was there, so we got the scoop. The business in question opened last November, so our question was, ”Why give up so soon?” The owner is extremely talented and creative, and her business was in artificial flower arrangements. Most of her customers were decorators, and all of the arrangements were custom made, except for a few on display in her shop. She was successful, but apparently it wasn’t “fun” anymore. As her sister told us, she hadn’t understood what she was getting into, and came up against the stark reality that any business, even those in which we get to spend our time with the things we enjoy most, entails a lot of sheer drudgery.

I’m always tickled when people tell me how they envy me: I’m my own boss, I get to spend all day with books and readers, and I am free to do whatever I want. They get a dreamy look on their faces, saying they would love to own a bookshop, and just be able to read all day if business is slow.  I don’t shatter their reverie by pointing out that when things are slow, I’m usually catching up on some form of paperwork, or planning book orders or advertising, or just rearranging those lovely book displays to freshen them up.  Or that because summer is our busiest time of year, I will be spending one late night next week doing quarterly tax filings and probably another on regular bookkeeping.

Any method of earning a living in which one is “independent” seems to be looked on by others as the pinnacle of freedom. “Independence” and “freedom” are not synonyms. Tell the writer with a deadline to meet how free he is. Or that all he has to do is write, not keep track of queries and submissions, or his quarterly tax filings (taxes seem to be on my mind this week – end of quarter!) The doctor, the lawyer, the shopkeeper, the writer, the consultant  --- we’re all running businesses, and success requires planning, recordkeeping, and organization, in addition to tasks specific to the type of business, in my case ordering books, as well as all the paraphernalia a retail store needs. We all need a constant flow of customers, or clients, or readers, so marketing in all its multitudinous forms consumes time and resources.

 

 I would not discourage anyone from using the talents given to them in an independent business. It is “fun,” and the “fun” part makes all the supporting effort worthwhile. But no one should expect that there is nothing to do but the tasks we enjoy, or that we can choose when to do them. I have seen two businesses in town fail because the owners enjoyed the freedom so much that they thought nothing of posting a sign on the door: “Beautiful afternoon. We’re taking off.” Customers who came expecting to make a purchase didn’t come back; they couldn’t rely on the store hours. We may be our own bosses, but it doesn’t mean we don’t have to answer to anyone.

Our little group of business owners meets for coffee and bagels for a simple reason. The only free time we have to get together is early in the morning before our shops open. The meetings have a fixed end time:  we have to get the doors unlocked and the lights on. We’re a pretty happy bunch right now. We  survived a ghastly winter and even the “hangover” which slowed business well into the spring. The weather is good, the shoppers are out  -- and the hours are long, with no “down” time during the day to catch up. It’s what we signed up for, and we love it.

When Booksellers Meet

 Marilyn Thiele

Earlier this week, I had the pleasure of spending an evening with other booksellers. The occasion was a dinner arranged by a publishing house so that an author who is reluctant to tour could meet booksellers in a social setting. We all enjoyed getting to know him (and getting signed copies of his latest thriller, to be released in July), but I think we enjoyed getting to know each other even more. The booksellers were from New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and for once the “central” location was not far from my own small town.  One of the disadvantages of owning retail a business is that one doesn’t get out to visit other similar establishments; during those critical shopping hours, we’re all keeping our own home fires burning.

If you guessed that we spent the majority of our conversation discussing the Amazon/Hachette imbroglio, you guessed wrong. We all agreed early on that it was fun to watch what is happening, and to read all the diatribes against our common foe, but that the majority of the public doesn’t really understand it or care very much.  So on to topics where we could share information and help each other with problems we can actually do something about.

I’ve mentioned here innumerable times that customer service is critical to the survival of small independent bookshops. There was no disagreement from any of my colleagues on that point.  We found we also had common experiences with customers’ reactions to that service. It’s not that they’re overly demanding; in fact, they have low expectations and seem surprised to be offered serious assistance.  Many times after I spend ten or fifteen minutes with someone, finding out what they like to read or perhaps helping them choose a gift, they thank me profusely and apologize multiple times for “taking up so much of your time.” I learned that this reaction is not unique to my shop. I always explain that helping customers choose books is the best part of my job, and makes all the necessary drudgery of owning a business worthwhile, as do my new friends. We wonder why this reaction is so common. Have the “big box” stores, where you’re lucky to get pointed in the right direction, inured people to being on their own? Do people shop so rarely in any small establishments, for toys, or clothing, or kitchen gadgets, that they have no experience with a salesperson who actually cares?

 A few weeks ago I went to a small shop in our town that sells gourmet kitchen items. I needed a new coffee percolator, and my experience was what I expected. I was greeted as I entered, was asked if I needed help, was shown two brands of the appliance I wanted, and received explanations of the pros and cons of each.  That’s why I was there, and not out at the highway shopping center at Bed Bath and Beyond, where the “associates” generally don’t know that coffee can be percolated. And the price was less than the big name brand with a short life span that BB &B offers. I can’t speak yet for the life span of my new purchase, but I certainly am a happy customer.

I read that one of the bestselling authors whose books are difficult to obtain through the online giant decided to forgo online shopping in protest. She says that she had become so accustomed to ordering and having products delivered to her door that she had forgotten the simple pleasures of being out in the community, shopping and seeing other people. I hope she spent some time in small shops. The big chain store experience, with underpaid, untrained, and uncaring employees is almost as bad as the isolation of having everything delivered. My expectations in the small kitchen furnishings shop came from the fact that I provide the same kind of service and shop with small independent retailers whenever I can. My fellow booksellers and I agreed that it is very sad that consumers today have learned to expect so little and feel the need to apologize for being helped in the way they deserve.

A significant part of any small bookseller’s service is the “special” ordering of books that are not in stock. One thing the huge chain bookstores conditioned shoppers to was huge inventories. Now that there are fewer of these mega-bookstores, we find that we have to educate people to understand that we can’t carry every book ever published, but that we can get most anything they want, and usually literally “overnight.”  One bookseller commented at our dinner that the words “order” or “special order” are the “Kiss of Death,” and that she has found several alternate phrases to use.  The rest of us agreed that those words seem to be off-putting, and wonder why. Of course, there is the problem of those who need instant gratification, or, as I have experienced in the last two days, want a particular book for a Father’s Day gift and can’t wait until Monday. But frequently the shopper is in no particular rush; the words, “I’ll have copies on Friday” prompt a return visit on that day. There is something about that “special order” phrase that makes shoppers say, “That’s OK. I don’t want to put you to the trouble.”

Two or three keyboard strokes is not a lot of trouble. Suppliers like Ingram and Baker & Taylor deliver to most of us the day after an order is placed. Customers who have placed orders with the large chain bookstores are amazed when I tell them the book will be here the next day; they are used to  long waits and don’t quite believe me. I explain that in a large company, there are corporate procedures and channels that have to be dealt with. The independent seller is the procedure, the channel, whatever. So no problem; I placed the order while we were chatting. In addition to conditioning the public to huge inventories, the chains conditioned them to believe any special request was a big deal, and more trouble than it was worth. Again, it appears that caring customer service from a retailer is a foreign notion.

There may be other reasons that the phrase “special order” turns off customers, and I would be interested to hear from book buyers who know what they are and have suggestions for making the concept more palatable. I would love to share these with my new friends.

There were many more topics discussed, from customer quirks to how to increase event attendance (to ticket or not to ticket?). I hope to elaborate on a few others in future blogs. In the meantime, remember: Shop Local. We’re here to serve you!

I'm OK, You're OK

Marilyn Thiele

“Every book is a self-help book.” I saw this quote from comedian Marc Maron this week. I don’t know the context in which it was said, and don’t know if it was meant to be humorous, but I found it thought-provoking, particularly in light of a non-book experience I had the week before.

The non-book experience was pretty mundane, at least on the surface. My sister is now a grandmother for the first time. Her sons are a few years older than my son, and I was the inheritor of vast amounts of baby clothing. I faithfully put it away after use, along with all my son’s “new” attire, in hope that I would use it again. Life didn’t work out that way, and that’s fine, but the cartons have been in the back corner of the attic for almost thirty years, one of those “I’ll get to it” jobs. The new grandmother wondered if I had a particular outfit from the proud new father’s own babyhood. She wanted to take a picture of the new family member to match a photo she has of his father in the same clothing. It seemed to me that this was as good a time as any to go through those cartons, give what was still useful to charity, and toss the rest.  Not really an overwhelming job. After locating the requested  garment, and throwing out a few obviously worn-out items in the process, I seemed to reach an impasse. The boxes cluttered the dining room, and I would make desultory attempts to finish the job, feeling exhausted after 15 minutes of sorting. I realized after a while that the task was emotionally, not physically, demanding, and that both dealing with memories (even happy ones) and needing to part with reminders of the past were difficult for me. I berated myself: “The attic is on overflow” “It’s only stuff”  “You swore when cleaning out your parents’ house that you wouldn’t leave your own accumulation for others to deal with” “You’re just lazy!”

Then I mentioned all this to a friend. Her response was, “Isn’t it awful! I have all my kids’ clothes and toys and drawings. I just hate having to decide what to keep and what to toss. It totally wears me out.” And suddenly I felt normal again. I’m not the only one with this problem. Of course, there are people who easily divest themselves of the trappings of the past at each new stage of life, and I envy them. But at least I know that there are others like me, too. (Yikes! I haven’t even gotten to the toys and drawings and school pictures and ….).

Disposing of children’s paraphernalia is not a subject so sensitive that one would hesitate to bring it up casually with a friend. But we all have issues regarding our own personalities, quirks, needs, likes and dislikes that we hesitate to share even with those closest to us. It’s on these subjects that I realize I find books to be part of the “Self-Help” genre even when that was not the intent of the author.

In his post earlier this week,  Jeff commented that writers are observers, but not necessarily great analysts. It’s exactly this skill of observing human behavior and describing both the behavior and the effect it has on the characters’ relationships that often makes the reader, or at least this reader, pause and realize that others deal with the same problems we face.  Readers often discuss the importance of being able to identify with a character in order to become invested in a story. Part of the pleasure of this investment is in knowing that the author has observed that type of person, and if we are like that person, we are not so different from the rest of humanity. I find that I am sympathetic to characters who face issues similar to mine, even if their behaviors (and mine) are not particularly attractive.  At least I’m not the only one to feel or behave that way.

The author may not be the analyst, but the self-aware reader might actually be influenced enough by the observation of the results of certain attitudes or behaviors in fictional situations to make some changes. Or not.  At least it’s comforting to feel that if characters I read about have the same quirks or obsessions or anxieties, mine must not be too far out of the mainstream.

And now back to the thriller I’m reading. It fees good to know I’m not the only one who fantasizes about decapitating certain people with a machete.

It's Summer Reading Time

Marilyn Thiele

This weekend is the psychological, if not literal, beginning of summer. For the passionate reader, this means that it’s time to plan and dream about all the leisure hours available to be filled with books. As an obsessive list maker, I have already created a catalog for myself, catching up with series I’ve fallen behind on and looking forward to the authors I’ve been meaning to read. The idea of leisure hours to read is more a dream than reality in the bookselling world; summer is the busiest season (except for a few weeks in December) as we try to keep other avid readers supplied. But hope springs eternal in a bibliophile’s heart, so here are some thoughts on what I plan, and  some suggestions if you’re looking  for them.

There are a few authors I regard as special treats. What this really means is that I don’t start reading any of their books until I know I can ignore some chores without too great a penalty, because I won’t be able to put the book down. There is always a Lee Child, John Sandford or Michael Connelly book on my desk, waiting as a reward to myself when some particularly onerous task (think tax filings or closet cleaning) is completed. I am actually caught up with Reacher, so I will have to wait until the weekend that psychologically ends the summer for the next one. But I have Michael Connelly’s Black Box and Gods of Guilt waiting for me, and I am three behind on John Sandford’s “Prey” series, so there are plenty of rewards available; I just need to do the chores.

I have recently added another author to this group of “can’t put it down” authors. John Verdon creates complex puzzles that has the reader guessing along with the detective and writes in a style that keeps the pages turning. Some chores did get neglected this past week as I read his first Dave Gurney novel, Think of a Number, and I already have copies of Shut Your Eyes Tight and Let the Devil Sleep at the top of the “to be read” pile. His fourth novel featuring Dave Gurney, a retired New York City homicide detective who has retired to the Catskills but finds he can’t give up matching wits with murderers, is due out July 1 (Peter Pan Must Die). For anyone who hasn’t read John Verdon and is looking for an engrossing read this summer, I highly recommend him.

I read Robert Galbraith’s (aka J. K. Rowling) The Cuckoo’s Calling recently, and am looking forward to the next entry in the series, The Silkworm, which will be out next month. Her Afghan War veteran private detective, Comoran Strike, living in London and struggling with personal issues (including a prosthetic leg) follows his instincts even when the authorities are convinced he’s on the wrong track. His huge, tough exterior belies his perception of the motives and mendacity of the suspects. Having read the Harry Potter series and A Casual Vacancy, which is a “straight” novel about the power struggles and politics of a small English village, all I can say is, this woman can tell a story, no matter what the genre. Try the “Galbraith” books for a great summer read.

It wouldn’t be summer reading time for me without the Scandinavians, and I am particularly hoping to catch up on Jussi Adler-Olsen’s novels featuring Carl Morck, who has been relegated to Department Q in the Copenhagen police department to solve cold cases. Like the typical Scandinavian detective, he is divorced, difficult to get along with, and carrying a burden of guilt. He is also funny and accompanied by quirky assistants whose insights are often the key to the mystery. If you’re looking for something a little different this summer, Adler-Olsen is worth your time.

For those who prefer domestic suspense over murder investigations, I suggest Carla Buckley (The Deepest Secret) and Jenny Milchman (Cover of Snow, winner of the Mary Higgins Clark Award, and Ruin Falls), all three of which I have discussed in earlier posts. For a little World War II spy action from a woman’s point of view, try Susan Elia MacNeal’s series featuring Maggie Hope, British born but American bred, using her mathematical talents in His Majesty’s service. The first is Mr. Churchill’s Secretary. There seem to be a few too many convenient coincidences in the plots, but the background details about London in wartime and the machinations of the government are fascinating.

Of course, here in New Jersey, summer wouldn’t be summer without the shore. If you’re not able to actually get to the beach, you can still spend some time in Jersey shore towns with books. Chris Grabenstein’s John Ceepak novels, all named after boardwalk amusements, (Tilt-a-Whirl, Fun House, Free Fall, and more) involve the difficulties of keeping the peace in a town full of summer vacationers. And divorced single mom Alison Kerby struggles to make her shore-town guesthouse a success while solving crimes with the help of a couple of resident ghosts in E. J. Copperman’s Haunted Guesthouse series.

I wish everyone a safe and relaxing summer, full of fun and good books. And don’t forget, if you’re having trouble getting books published by Hachette Group ( Grand Central, Little Brown, and others) because they are being punished by one retailer, your local independent bookstore has stocked up on these titles, or can quickly order them, providing prompt and friendly service. We care about our customers!

What's in Name?

Marilyn Thiele

Erin’s post from yesterday addressed an issue with names and the personal associations that go with them.  Her “correspondent” made two errors that will quickly alienate a potential ally. First, he had some individual contact with her and promptly forgot about it. He then addressed someone, whom he had forgotten and was thus a stranger, in a form that should be reserved for communicating with people we actually know. I am not as active on social media as Erin is, so I have not been confronted with this problem on-line, but I could not help but think of the similarities to phone solicitations. Now that all the details of our lives are available to marketers everywhere, it is not uncommon for me to answer the phone and hear, “Marilyn! How are you? How is business going?” and more questions or statements that indicate that I am being contacted by an acquaintance. As I rack my brain trying to identify the voice (and use the nasty side of my cranium to rant about young people not being taught manners and that I was brought up to always identify myself immediately when calling someone), I start to realize that this is not someone I know, but an overly familiar telemarketer who thinks that she will create warm feelings on my part by pretending to know me, not just whatever profile information she has in front of her. By the time I ask, “Who is this?” I usually have it figured out.

The use of our names in a way that implies acquaintance, if not friendship, is irritating when we realize that we are just entries on a list to be contacted. I would almost prefer “To whom it may concern” as a form of address; if it doesn’t concern me, you haven’t attempted to create a bond for your own purposes, and you still stand on neutral ground with me. Those telemarketers who start with “May I speak to the owner?” or “May I speak to the person who handles advertising?” still get the brush-off, but in a much more polite way than the faux-friendly ones.

I wonder if the new author Erin mentions is aware of the opportunity he missed. Just as the presumptuousness of using someone’s name to address them with a familiarity that does not exist is off-putting, the knowledge that someone with whom we have had a brief communication has paid enough attention to learn who we are can be appealing. In Erin’s example, the author could have taken a few minutes to find out who she is. After all, he conversed with her on Twitter, and thus had enough information to lead him to her professional status. For him to ask who she was after sending what appeared to be a personal invitation indicates that he didn’t care enough to find out with whom he was conversing earlier. Brief encounters such as these can leave us with warm fuzzy feelings or “he’s a jerk” feelings, and these first feelings are bound to color any future interactions.

Our names are so intimately bound up with our identities that the use or misuse of them can generate strong emotions. I have never had a nickname, don’t want one, and get quite resentful when someone (generally a person I don’t know well) calls me “Mar,” the most common attempt to shorten what is not a terribly long name. Some “Deborahs” like “Deb” or “Debbie”; others abhor the shortened form. A little effort to know someone’s preference (like listening to what they call themselves) can go a long way. Remembering a person’s name can go an even longer way. I have many regular customers and they are pleased to be called by name, even if I haven’t seen them for several months. I am fortunate to have a pretty good memory for names, but I have learned a trick that works: forget the mnemonics, the association of the name with some far-fetched image, just pay attention. I really believe that the main reason we forget names is because our attention is elsewhere when we are introduced. If for just one minute the new acquaintance, or customer, is the focus of all your attention, the name will stick. And if it doesn’t, honesty is a good tool. Asking again and admitting you were distracted still indicates you care enough to get the name right. Just as a few minutes of on-line searching would have saved Erin’s correspondent from alienating a potential ally (who took the time to find information about him), a few minutes of attention to a new acquaintance will reap future benefits when they realize they have become an individual and not a face in the crowd.

 It’s harder in the on-line world to create real connection, especially if one has thousands of “friends” or “followers.” Still, it seems that if one is going to engage in any one-on-one dialogue, it would be worth the few minutes it takes to identify the other party. Not only would it help avoid confusion and misunderstandings, but it could create a sense of real caring about the individual. And don’t we all want to feel that we are special?

 

"I'm just looking...to buy elsewhere"

Marilyn Thiele

As we were enjoying celebratory cake and champagne after Jenny Milchman’s booksigning here at my shop (she had won the Mary Higgins Clark Award the previous evening), one of the attendees asked me about a subject that’s frequently on my mind, but which I don’t usually bring up at festive occasions. The topic was “showrooming,” the practice of seeing, feeling, touching and learning about an item one wants to purchase in a bricks-and-mortar establishment, then, when one has satisfied oneself that it is the right choice, going home and buying it on-line (these days, even ordering it right there from one’s smartphone.)

I have complained about the effect of “showrooming” on small businesses in this forum before, but the person who brought it up to me approached it from a different point of view. His thought was that most shoppers are totally oblivious to the impact of their behavior, and that if they understood that they were using the resources of the shop without contributing to the overhead, they would make their purchases in the shop. The observation about the ignorance of the average shopper is too true. Although I have on occasion observed customers with notebook (or smartphone) in hand perusing my shelves, opening books to read a bit, scanning the jacket blurbs and summaries, and jotting down those titles they liked, it is more common for someone to say quite clearly, “This looks good; I’ll look for it on-line” without an inkling that I might find his plan disconcerting. And for all I know, the lady making a list of titles is preparing to drop hints for Mother’s Day, with the name of the store where they can be found included.

The shopper who brazenly declares his or her intent to buy on-line after having handled the merchandise and picked my brain for suggestions really doesn’t want to hurt my feelings (or my bottom line). There seems to be a misconception that businesses are funded by “other people” or that there is a vast reservoir of resources so that one lost sale is insignificant, that of course I expend the effort to learn what a customer likes and help them find it out of an altruistic love of helping others.  I enjoy connecting readers with books; it’s the reason I do the thousand other boring things running a business entails. But I also enjoy paying my bills on time, and there is no vast reservoir behind me (or, it appears, behind Best Buy or Barnes and Noble or many other enterprises much larger than mine).

This sense that businesses have unlimited resources manifests itself in other ways. The number of charitable solicitations I receive in a week would bankrupt me if I responded to all of them. When I explain to the sweet Mom asking for a tricky-tray contribution for a fund-raiser for a high school in the next state (which, granted, is not far away) that I support these efforts in the schools in my local district but cannot give to every school in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, they seem stunned. You mean there are others asking? It’s only a few books. Yes, multiplied by approximately fifty requests at this time of year (largely from people I never see as customers in my shop). But the real problem here is lack of awareness, not a desire to drain my inventory. One small donation, one sale lost to the on-line monster: the individual sees only his little slice of the world, not the effect of numerous repetitions.

Several months after the local Borders closed (along with the rest of the company), a young man browsing in my shop commented to me that he really missed them. He said that he spent every lunch hour there, drinking coffee and reading. He had read multiple books from beginning to end without ever purchasing one. Didn’t I think that was wonderful? Maybe I should start selling coffee and create a seating area.  When I said that the business model did not seem to have worked out too well, he said that he had bought a lot of coffee. He did not seem to feel that anything was wrong with his behavior, and, in reality, Borders encouraged this sense of entitlement. If it’s so easy to do, it must be OK. Someone else will buy the books to support my habit.

Bookstores are part of a community, and should be centers for community events and contributors to the life of the town. Author events and in-store reading groups are common ways of encouraging reading and the sharing of ideas. These gatherings are time consuming in planning and there are costs involved. Visiting authors also incur expenses and devote time to the process. And although we all want to encourage reading and discussion, let’s be honest, we also want to sell books. And every bookseller I know has one or more “regulars” who attend without fail, enjoy the refreshments, chat with the author, and never buy a book. Some shops have tried “ticketing,” requiring the purchase of a book in advance as the price of admission. I find this a little distasteful, and would only consider it if I expected attendance to exceed my capacity, which hasn’t happened yet. It is perfectly legitimate for a reader to listen to an author’s presentation, learn about the book, and decide it is not for them, just as it is for someone to browse for a bit and then decide there is nothing appealing that day. But one gets the sense that there are some attendees that feel the events are solely for the benefit of the audience, just like those at the library (which is supported by tax dollars), and there is nothing they need to do to keep it going. Again, I think this behavior comes from lack of awareness rather than any desire to exploit.

So, back to the conversation which initiated this long lament. The person who brought up the subject of showrooming felt also that the majority of shoppers were ignorant of the effect it has on the bookseller or other retailer. And the question was, what can be done in an educational effort? How do we overcome the assumption that someone else should be and is paying the freight so I can have all the advantages of bookshop offers, but read for free or at a discount? The inquirer drew a parallel to the pirating of movies or music, and suggested that the warnings at the beginning of a DVD could somehow be adapted to the retailers’ dilemma, that if people were aware of the effects of their behavior they would change. When the appropriate opportunity arises, I discuss the effects of showrooming, even with customers, and my efforts have yielded some changes. But there is not always a non-confrontational opportunity to have the discussion, and the one-on-one effort doesn’t have wide effect. The problem with “warning labels” is that pirating videos or music is illegal, and there are specific consequences for the offender. Showrooming is not against the law, nor is reading in a bookstore’s café or attending events. The consequences are not immediate or personal.

I do believe that while there are some who deliberately take advantage, the real problem is that the average person doesn’t think beyond their immediate needs. I do tell people that when the Big A has put us all out of business, they will charge whatever they want, and it won’t be pretty. But that’s long term, probably after I’m gone. Meanwhile, how do we educate the people whose intentions are good but who have no understanding of how it all works? If anyone has any ideas, I would love to hear them.