Idle Diesel Fumes
The day begins with receiving, which means unpacking boxes from publishers and entering them into inventory. When there’s a ton of receiving, you’ll pick up and put down the books in these boxes at least five times, in five different places. Maybe more! Crucially, I believe that handling things imbues them with energy which can be picked up by other people. The more we touch the books the more we sell the books.
Coffee first. Occasionally large trucks park in front of the store and are left running (clean idling diesel fuel? I think I’ve seen that phrase somewhere), which dominates our space for the duration. I don’t want to work while this happens. I’m not going to. If you wanted to steal a truck, it seems within reach. I do not wish to do this. Many childhood nightmares involved being fucking terrified, driving a truck too big for me to operate (plus I am a child in this scenario and do not know how to drive). I will not be hijacking the Clover dairy big rig, I’m simply saying that one could. It’s important to consider possibilities.
Not a lot of boxes today, mostly re-orders (as opposed to new releases) of what people have been buying. But maybe just a little more coffee. Maybe a little staring into the distance. Maybe finishing off the breakfast sandwich my partner made for me this morning, which was fucking delicious by the way. God, I love a breakfast sandwich.
Enough idling. Let’s get the knife and get to it. I’ve learned in 15 years of bookselling that you need a heavy-duty, sharp knife. A boxcutter, not like a machete or one of those gorgeous French folding knives with the wooden handle that you use for cutting mushrooms in the cool, damp forest. You need a metal-bodied box cutter and a couple of straight razors. Don’t fuck around with inferior blades, as a general rule of life.
First box is from Penguin Random House (owned by Bertelsmann, German media conglomerate.) We get a lot of books from them, due to corporate consolidation, monopolies in publishing, etc. (Playing on our speaker: “Long Hot Summer” by the Style Council, extended mix of course. This is a song I could listen to on loop for the rest of my days, this is a song that one could really live in, you know?) Enough, Liz. Cut this sucker open, see what’s inside, beep beep beep scan scan scan.
A few NYRB titles here, a Verso book called Half-Earth Socialism by Troy Vettese and Drew Pendergrass (what, we can’t get the whole Earth? Folks, I'll be here all day.) It looks like a good book. Verso is solid. The New York Review of Books books are all fiction: a Natalia Ginzburg title and one from Silvina Ocampo (two authors I know I need to read, I’m getting to them I swear), plus Rebecca Solnit’s classic River of Shadows, which I’m pretty sure was the book referenced in “Men Explain Things to Me,” but I could be wrong. I’m often wrong!
Brief interlude. My lovely co-worker and her baby stop by, and there is another baby in the store, same age, so they sort of take in one another’s visage, much to the delight of all. Babies are great. My coworker takes an advance copy of Palaver by Bryan Washington, a friend of hers and by extension, of the store. We’re excited: coming November 4th from Farrar, Straus & Giroux (which is part of Macmillan, which is owned by Holtzbrinck in Germany).
Next box. An immediate standout is a new release called Foreclosure Gothic by Harris Lahti (Astra House, also under the large Penguin Random House umbrella), which has a very unsettling (effective!) cover, kind of using a surveillance-style image of someone on a porch. Any kind of footage or still image like that makes my skin crawl, which is clearly the point. (God I hate those fucking Ring camera ads on Instagram that are like “capture what matters” with clearly staged videos captioned with phrases like “Amazon driver does a little dance on the porch delivering my package from Prime!!! Which is free shipping by the way! Wow!!!!!!” There’s no connection between the dancing delivery and the fact that Amazon owns Ring, I’m sure, and this is not an attempt to distract from the fact that they do not disclose what they do with the footage they are storing. Probably unrelated, also, that they once set up an affiliate program with police departments where if there was a crime the officer would go “well you really should get a Ring camera” and if they did the officer got a bonus. Probably unrelated.) The book does look very creepy and interesting, though.
Next, two titles, one by Jessica Slice called Unfit Parent (Beacon Press) about the many ways in which our society undermines and demonizes disabled people who are parents. Disability justice is deeply entwined with just about every aspect of life, and learning more about what that means, about how people’s lives are impacted by our current iteration of fascist capitalism, is important for all of us. The other book is a new romance release, and look, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. (I’m sure the right reader will be excited.)
Just heard a customer remark “Everything is Tuberculosis” and their companion reasonably responded “wait what.” But of course they were referencing the title of John Green’s latest. Once you do The Fault in our Stars, the world is your oyster, topic-wise. I’ve heard it’s informative and emotional. I haven’t read it. I feel like I don’t read anything, but that can’t possibly be true.
Take an interlude to shelve a lovely little pile of Krasznahorkai and Lispector (published by WW Norton, which is employee owned, a real outlier among its peers) and notice that both copies of The Devil’s Best Trick by Randall Sullivan have sold off my “staff picks” shelf, and can I get a hell yeah?? That book rules; it’s like the X Files, except the author is both Mulder and Scully, kind of vacillating between belief and skepticism. Nonfiction and I highly recommend it, but we’re sold out now so you’ll have to wait a little, ok? OK. I knew I read things!
The truck is gone, but new sounds emerge: a few times a week someone bikes down College singing what I’m pretty sure are pop songs off key and very loudly, and here they come now. Salutations, jovial troubador! Better them than the other guy who bikes down College with a speaker that plays the same worship song on repeat, one of those ones that’s like “innnnn hiiiiiiissss arrrrmmmsssss hisssss eettttterrrnallllllll arrrrrmmmsss” etc. The Avenue is indeed a rich tapestry.
Last box, Harper Collins (owned by News Corp, which is one of Rupert Murdoch’s many media assets): a pack of signed first edition copies of the new Jess Walter, So Far Gone. An exploration of contemporary masculinity in an off the grid environment! Militias! Fist fights! Flipping through it, the dialogue is sharp and funny. I’m not familiar with Jess Walter though I did handle six hundred million copies of Beautiful Ruins back when I was a used book buyer. That was a staple for years. So Far Gone is out Tuesday June 10th and not a minute sooner.
Next, more shelving, plus a pile of mailouts. Shipping is my true passion. It’s mostly one title that I suspect Lori Emerson is kindly directing people to us to preorder, her Other Networks, which is “a radical technology sourcebook…an index of networks that existed before and outside of the internet.” I love that premise. It’s a great design too, large format hardcover with a cool vintage feel to it. Out now from Anthology Editions!
I was going to leave it at that, but first, let me idle, let me vent some diesel... Within ten minutes, two different customers inquired how the store was doing--how are we handling the new space and such--and I said what I always say, some version of “well we’re figuring it out and it’s going pretty well, thanks for asking,” and then they said the thing which is “well someday you’ll reopen,” to which I replied, “We’re open now! You are currently here, purchasing a book from us! Commerce is occurring!” When they clarify “I mean in your old location, which I liked better,” folks, I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. We are where we are. We are making it work as best we can. In many ways I prefer our new spot (6022 College Ave., tell your friends!) and although the fire was terrible, we have made lemonade. I know they mean well. I know we are lucky they care at all. I don’t want this to take up too much of my brain. There’s no time for dwelling and there’s no point.
Onward! We must touch books! We must expose and sheathe our boxcutter blade as needed! Back to work!
—Elizabeth Freeman
