Everything's Up To Date in Kansas City!

They've gone about as far as they can go. Or so I hear.  I'm going to Kansas City. Kansas City, here I come, and while I admit that I wasn't originally very excited about Winter Institute's location this year, I've come full circle on that point.  I'm now tremenjusly excited, as Diana from Anne of Green Gables once said. I've recently learned that there's an excellent art museum in town, not to mention our country's premier music performance space. Who knew?  Well, apparently Rodgers and Hammerstein knew, or at least were prescient about such matters many decades ahead of their time.  From what I can tell, Kansas City is kinda the shiz, but apparently a well-kept secret among the more myopic denizens of my country, of which I included myself up until a few weeks ago.I try to guard against that sort bias, hailing as I do from a part of the country that is oft maligned by other people.

So, Winter Institute.  It's a pretty amazing time.  Five hundred independent booksellers from all over the US get together to drink, gossip, and generally talk about books in an appreciative manner. Have I mentioned recently how much I love my job? (In fact, I did. Just last week.) Well, being able to attend conventions like Winter Institute ranks up there pretty high for reasons why I love my job.

In addition to getting to explore a new and interesting city, I'll get to meet with bookseller friends whom I only see once a year (or so) at these get-togethers.  I'll meet tons of authors and gets tons of free books signed.  I'll take notes and learn stuff.  And I'll make heroic efforts to get up in time for the breakfast sessions each morning, even if it means propping my eyes open with sawed-off toothpicks. Because in all likelihood, I will be behaving like a bookseller. I'm generally tame in comparison to the booksellers I grew up with (Lemurians, I'm looking at y'all), so I've been trying to build up some drinking endurance by drinking a little more each night with dinner this past week.  Which essentially means up I'm to three glasses of wine. Yes, I know.  Wild child am I.

This year I'm excited to be included for two author/publisher dinners: one on Saturday night with FSG/Bloomsbury and one on Sunday night with Algonquin/Houghton Mifflin.  I've never been invited to an FSG/Bloomsbury event, so I'm greatly anticipating that.  But last year's Algonquin bash was the talk of the town and I can't wait for this year's.  Books, blues brews, & bbq should sum it up. 

BEA, Baby! Part I

I have now been home one day from my stint at Book Expo America, and it's not quite been sufficient time to recover from the past week.  In other words, then, it was a typical BEA, full of fun and work in equally large measures! Now all I have to do is catch up from missing one week of work, get ready for my Perseus, PGW, and Simon & Schuster Fall 2012 buys, attend a staff party, do laundry, pack, and finalize the books I'll be taking along on vacation in t-minus-9 days.  But I digress--first, here's what happened last week in NYC:

Accommodation panic, for starters.  At first I procrastinated about finding a place to stay.  Then I lucked into a place to stay.  Then it fell through about one week before the show.  Then I checked online hotel prices and promptly fainted. I bided my time and booked my first night at Milford Plaza Hotel on the morning I left for New York.  It was a mixed bag. 

First room--heavy on the mildew

Nice to have two window shades

The second room with a smaller but cleaner bathroom

I stayed in two different rooms there, and the first one had a bigger bathroom and was more spacious in general, plus a nice view of the river from the 25th floor, but it had HUGE and NASTY mildew problems in the shower. The second room, on the 6th floor,  was a little larger and perfectly clean, but SO DAMN LOUD at night that I was awakened several times, even with earplugs.  I picked the Milford because it was on the complimentary BEA bus route and because the first night was only $139, but I doubt I'll stay there again.  I'm not so enamored of being awash in a sea of humanity that I'd want to be that close to Times Square again.  If you're dying to know more particulars about the hotel stay, you can find my review on TripAdvisor. 

L-R: Me (current), Marika (current), Emily (former), Joan (current), and Broche (former)

So...BEA.  Arrived late Monday morning, halfway through Richard Russo's plenary talk for indie booksellers, hosted by the ABA.  After that, we broke for lunch and bought remainders (known to civilians, perhaps, as bargain books), and posed for Odyssey staff photos along the way with current and former employees.  I miss Emily and Broche so much!

Monday night, Marika and I had a celebratory dinner--she had just signed with an agent for her first graphic novel that very morning!  She came with me to my hotel as I checked in and from there we walked around the neighborhood to find something we'd both enjoy.  We settled on Smyrna, a Turkish restaurant, where we hit paydirt, ordering a smattering of small plates that was each in its own way delicious: stuffed grape leaves (very different from the Greek style we both knew), a smoked eggplant salad very unlike anything we'd ever eaten, Borregi cigars stuffed with a Turkish feta-like cheese, and zucchini pancakes with dill & yogurt, which I think was our favorite of the dishes.

Tuesday morning was the first of a three-day marathon meeting with publishers from houses large & small.  Joan, Marika, and I did our best to woo the publicists and pitch our store in an effort to attract more authors to our store for events and to make sure that our little New England town doesn't get overlooked by all of the major media markets. 

Yay, Bellwether!

In between appointments, Joan and I made our way to the uptown stage to hear Barbara Kingsolver announce what new manuscript won the Bellwether Prize (now a PEN award).  Congratulations, Susan Nussbaum! Along with Kingsolver, we heard from Heidi Durrow and Hillary Jordan--I love them, and their books, too.

My husband's book is honored here: The Cheshire Cheese Cat

Then came the Celebration of Bookselling luncheon, where we heard lots of authors (who, not incidentally, were voted on by independent booksellers) speak for one minute about how much they love independent booksellers.  It was an odd combination of gratifying sincerity and slightly masturbatory fawning.  As far as I remember, only John Green acknowledged that awkwardness and made us laugh and proved why he is, in my opinion, the most engaging author for indies, second only to Ann Patchett...who showed her love by reciting the St. Crispin's day speech from Henry V.  I love that speech.  We few, we happy few, indeed! And if I happened to have tears in my eyes, what of it, I ask you? I kept hearing this haunting anthem from the Kenneth Branagh version of the film while she was up there. (Sorry, I don't know how to post a YouTube video here.  Help me, anyone?)

Meeting, meeting, meeting, and more meeting.  Then fun!  Sue from Milkweed invited me to Piadina Ristorante, one of her favorite eateries in the West Village, to where I foolishly decided to walk instead of taking public transportation.  Good thing I left the Javits at 5:00 to make the 6:00 dinner! I had a great time chatting with her about books, the state of publishing & bookselling, the beauty of the Berkshires, and the gentler joys of the midwest compared to our other homes (she and I are both native-born midwesterners, but Sue identifies as a New Yorker and I identify as a Southerner).

My image, but not actually the bar.  This was on the corridor wall of my hotel. Odd, no?

After leaving Sue and securing a place to stay for the night (I hadn't booked it before then because hotel prices were astronomical), I met up with some friends down on the Lower East Side: David, my terrific sales rep from Norton; Jennifer, one of the hippest booksellers I know;  and Steve, a publisher/bookseller from Norton/McNally Jackson, whose acquaintance I made that night. Destination: Schiller's Liquor Bar, where I drank a pleasant little gin-gingery concoction that made me want to belt out inappropriate lyrics to the tune of that Chim-Chiminy song from Mary Poppins.  Luckily for everybody, I managed to restrain myself.

Next up: Part Two!

Booksellers Rock! And so, apparently, do I.

Okay, so it feels just a *little* bit uncomfortable tooting my own horn, but since I've already heard from a couple of you who've read the profile, it has fed my ego sufficiently to want to share it with more of you. Algonquin Books, one of my favorite publishing houses, interviews one independent bookseller each month and profiles them on their website.  I'm tickled pink (just like my elephants!) to be included in their Booksellers Rock! profile. 

Here is the profile, copied and pasted from their blog, and here is their blog if you want to read it in situ, as it were. :

Booksellers Rock! Emily Crowe, Odyssey Bookshop

Name: Emily Crowe
Bookstore: Odyssey Bookshop
Title: Assistant Manager/Buyer/Bookseller/Big Kahuna

Brief Bio: I’ve worked several venues in the book world ever since I left grad school, including as a publisher sales rep, at a library, and a used & rare bookstore. I loathe cilantro and bigots with an equal passion. Along with the obvious books, I have somehow become a collector of pink elephants and funky socks. And when I make my millions as a bookseller, I intend to retire to a pleasure palace in an undisclosed location south of the eighteenth parallel.

What books recently rocked my world: Not exactly recently, but I think Verghese’s Cutting for Stone and McCarthy’s The Road are the best books of the last decade. I loved last year’s The Tower, the Zoo and the Tortoise for its wonderfully quirky characters, and I’m a believer in this fall’s forthcoming The Night Circus.

Best damn event(s) we’ve hosted: A few years ago we hosted a great fundraiser for the Foodbank of Western Massachusetts: Richard Russo and Stephen King on stage in a conversation about writing, books, and the state of the world. We sold out the 1,100 seat auditorium and raised $17,000. I was so proud of the staff for all of their hard work and long hours of planning to make the event run smoothly and efficiently.
Most entertaining author we’ve hosted: Alexander McCall Smith. How can you not love a kilt-wearing man named Sandy who refused to be upstaged by last year’s volcanic disturbance in Iceland? He opened his U.S. tour this year with our store and he kept the audience in stitches the entire time. Our entire staff was utterly smitten with him.

Strangest question a customer has ever asked: Do you arrange books by size? Because I’m looking for hardcover books about this big [frames a smallish book size with thumbs and index fingers].

Why our store kicks ass: I’d probably have to go with our Topless Tuesday tradition.(Just kidding!) Our staff, plain and simple. They’re the best folks anywhere.

What makes our neighborhood and customers awesome: We’re a bookstore in a small college town—Mount Holyoke College is across the street from us. So we’ve got the best aspects of a small town combined with the best aspects of a college town, right at our
doorstep.

I promise you won’t find this at any other store: There’s a small gold plaque above the toilet in our staff bathroom that bears witness to the fact that Anne Rice Peed Here.

Why I do what I do: Because I want to become rich. Isn’t that why all of us are in
bookselling?

If I weren’t selling books I’d be: living the life of a beach bum in the Caribbean.

Books that changed my life: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle, Acts of Faith by Philip Caputo, and Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder.

Top three authors, living or dead, I’d invite to my dinner party: Eudora Welty, Jim Harrison, and Jane Austen. Miss Welty might be the only writer I’ve met who could possibly hold Jim in check with her gentle wit and charm. And Austen because she is pure-dee awesome. I think it would make for a great evening.

Top three songs on the soundtrack to my life: “Only God Can Save Us Now” by Over the Rhine, “Coconut” by Harry Nilsson, and “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”
by U2.

My last meal request: Warm goat cheese, arugula, & grilled watermelon salad from Jacala in Anguilla; a platter of pulled pork from Big D’s BBQ in Pocahontas, MS; and a huge slice of caramel cake from Campbell’s Bakery in Jackson, MS (same from the Homemade Ice Cream & Pie Kitchen in Louisville would be a close runner-up). With lots of good, lemony sweet tea and a fine sippin’ rum (Ron Zacapa, aged 23 years) to wash it all down. That should do the trick.

Small Presses: 'Closest Equivalent to Your Local Farmer's Market'

Small Presses: 'Closest Equivalent to Your Local Farmer's Market'

It's not that I don't value the work that the big publishers are doing--they're certainly my bread and butter. But small presses (in which I include most university presses) are doing some of the most responsible publishing in the US today.

Small Presses: 'Closest Equivalent to Your Local Farmer's Market'

"In the world of literary culture, the small press is probably the closest equivalent to your local farmer's market. (The carrots might look funnier, but, after you're used to it, they taste about five times better.) There are tons of small presses, spread out over the country, and they're often run at either no-profit or a loss. These are labors of love--not engaged in the production of commodities for consumption, but something closer to Lewis Hyde's notion of 'the gift.' Hand-sewn chapbooks take time to make, the poems in them take time to read, and the poets (most likely) took a lot of time to write them. Their production occurs on a smaller (and less grandiose) scale, and like the Slow Food and broader Slow Culture movement, they want to restore to us a sense of time that our current world system strips away from us. Perhaps they wouldn't want to be in the airports, even if we let them. But they can, like the local food economy (which is growing at a spectacular rate, nationally), become viable alternatives with our support."

--Adam Roberts in the Atlantic

What I'm reading now...

LAST NIGHT IN MONTREAL by Emily St. John Mandel

Mandel's debut novel, which is intense and subtle in equal measure, has left me completely dazzled.  Lilia, abducted by her father at the age of seven, grows up to be a wanderer, utterly incapable of forming lasting attachments or understanding the concept of home.  When she quietly leaves Eli behind, he traces her to Montreal, where Lilia's past and present collide in one mysterious young woman whose training as a tightrope walker stands in sharp counterpoint to her unbalanced mental state.  Ultimately this is a novel about urgency and restraint and about both the tragedies and rewards that we reap when we try to push beyond the limits of meaning and understanding.  Mandel resists the temptation to tie all three storylines up too neatly, leaving a couple of them to unravel as they may, and I think we can expect great things from this author in the future. 

It's from a small publisher, Unbridled Books, which has been quietly making good books for the reader for I don't know how long, but which came to my attention a little over a year ago when they published Margaret Cezair-Thompson's The Pirate's Daughter.  We picked that book for our First Editions Club in December 2007 and now I hope to pick Last Night in Montreal for our June 2009 selection.  Ms. Mandel is incredibly young--she looks like she would be carded non-stop for a night out on the town--for having turned out such a fine, sensitive first novel.  It's not just the careful details she crafts for each character, it's also what she chooses to leave in shadow, crediting the reader's own imagination, that sets this book apart.  I can't wait for the book to be published so that I can put it in the hands of as many readers as possible.  

And now for something completely different...

Stephen Fry, Stephen Fry, oh, how I love thee!  I was sadly unaware that Mr. Fry had come to America to visit every last state, filming and writing as he went along, and thus was not able to become his fangirl.  I've admired his humour for years and now that Harper Collins is publishing the US edition that accompanied the BBC series he filmed, I can enjoy his writing, too.  This book won't be published until December 2009, so you'll probably see me mention it from time to time as I dip into it throughout the year.  It's tempting to read the book straight through as I started to do, but I think I'll change that.  For one thing, one runs the risk of busting a gut, as they might say in my old home state, from too much consecutive laughter.  But also because it's nice to have to look forward to (I'm the same way when people give me gift certificates for things--I'll put off using them just so that I can have the pleasure of anticipation).  So now I'll apportion perhaps one or two states to read, every few days.  It won't last until December, certainly, but it will get me through the dreary, muddy months of what passes for early spring in New England.  

On a side note, was anybody else holding dear to the hope that the Harry Potter movie franchise would be casting Fry as Professor Slughorn and Hugh Laurie as Rufus Scrimgeour?  Wouldn't it be lovely to see them onscreen (sort of) together again with the super-duper special effects budget that Warner Bros has lavished on HP?  Say what you will about the Harry Potter movies (and I've said plenty, believe you me.  Although Prisoner of Azkaban was, like Elizabeth Bennet's teeth, tolerable, I suppose), they sure do provide the pleasure of seeing so many of the great actors of our time--Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, (Dame) Maggie Smith, Gary Oldman, Ralph Fiennes, Richard Griffiths, Julie Walters, Michael Gambon, Imelda Staunton, Helena Bonham Carter, Kenneth Brannaugh, Robert Pattinson (heh--just kidding.  I was checking to see if you were paying attention!), really the list does go on a bit...

Anyway, the series would have been the richer for my casting preferences but nobody asked me.  I find that *that* is increasingly what is wrong with the world today.