Invasion of the Life Swappers (NYC style)

I happen to know, based on very good intelligence, that Jack and Wendy are even now walking the streets of New York City. I can only assume their goal is to replace me and live out my life as I live out theirs. It’s like Freaky Friday, but less Jodie Foster, Barbara Harris, Lindsay Lohan, and Jamie Lee Curtises.

Luckily, I thought ahead and laid a few traps:

– I let all the other New Yorkers know to be really gruff and short-tempered. I only heard back from the cab-drivers, police officers, and subway employees… hopefully that’ll be enough.

– I pumped a lot of hot dog stink into the air and let all my pet rats go in the subway.

– That top lock to my apartment is super sticky. You’ll never get it undone.

– I told the exterminator not to bother with his monthly visit (Hint: the floor in my apartment doesn’t usually crunch like that).

But just in case this freaky Friday (not sure when this will be posted, but I wrote it on Friday!) never ends and I live out my life in Big Stone Gap while Jack and Wendy chill on my couch in Brooklyn, I’ll be making some changes around here.

– I’m now telling people that there’s a typo in Wendy’s book: “Yeah, they made a printing error. It’s supposed to say Andrew Whalen on the cover, but they misspelled it.”

– I renamed the store. You don’t want to know what it’s called now.

– All your friends? Stole ‘em.

– My proposal to rename the town Big Stone gAndrew hasn’t gained traction yet. I’m still optimistic.

But seriously, Jack and Wendy, have a nice time. And don’t eat all the pizza! I might want some later.

Editorial note from Wendy: Andrew doesn’t know that we looked up Ali Fisher, his girlfriend, and told her a few things. We praised Andrew’s increase of our 18-25 female demographic; we rarely had college girls in the shop before he came, but there’s been a veritable stream of them since his arrival. She seemed intrigued.

We also mentioned all the maternal types in town who have been dropping off stews, soups and casseroles since Andrew arrived, and how he’d gotten used to living large in a small town, his every whim catered. We suggested she bone up on a couple of “Cooking with Campbell’s Soups” recipe books we offered to send her.

If you call her tonight, Andrew, you just might be able to repair the damage….

The Bookstores of Philadelphia

Well, the houses are big and beautiful, and the bookstores are closing and opening.

Not all of them, mind, but Philadelphia is losing Robin’s Books, one of its oldest and largest stores. The current proprietor, turning 70 this year, inherited it from his grandfather, and kept it running more than thirty years.

But all good things come to an end, and in its ending, other stores find their forward thrust and even beginnings.

Philly still has bookstores: today we visited the Crooked Mile, with its 70,000-strong stock count, another one that was snooty so shall remain nameless, and then Ann’s very cool shop, The Spiral Bookcase. Spiral is a primarily used bookstore, although Ann had gone to a lot of trouble to make a lovely display of my new book, complete with paper sculpted teacup.

Ann’s only been in business two years, and her staff cat Amelia has been in position less than six months, so it’s a new concern all the way around. All the better, then, that it got voted Philadelphia’s best bookstore this year.

It is a bummer that Robin’s is closing. They did all the right things: moved from predominantly new to mostly used; changed their hours to meet the needs of the changing populations downtown; even stopped drawing salaries and just took living expenses from the store.

But as they are going, it is very nice to see the young blood coming: Ann is energetic, her store is full of white Ikea shelves she assembled herself, and Amelia is an excellent customer relations specialist. Clearly they have a bright future. It is not “bookstores are doomed.” It is the circle of bookstore life; as one door closes, another opens. Huzzah for we happy few, we band of booksellers.