Category Archives: book reviews

The People that we Meet (and the Shortbread that they Eat)

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IMG_4239Since the weather turned this Spring, Jack and I have been enjoying a fairly steady stream of visitors from book clubs. The one on the right, with Jack holding court, is from Christiansburg, with Pamela Hale (in the green dress) at the helm.

Book clubs (as well as posses of gal pals) have discovered we’re a good day out, that, as one visitor put it “The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap is accessible in every sense of the word!” Clubs from Tennessee, North Carolina, and Kentucky have visited this past month – not to mention the closer gang of Upward Bound kids from right here in the county.

It’s fun, playing host, answering questions about the book or the bookstore, and running our cafe. We have always served soups and sandwiches, but since the rise of the book clubs we’ve expanded our menu to include more British delicacies; cold cucumber soup remains a “never had this before” favorite for many visitors.)IMG_3637

We’ve also had several book clubs from farther away (Illinois and California, lately) email to ask questions or make observations from their discussions. One group that recently got in touch does that cool book club thing where they theme their refreshments to the books they’re reading.  Barbara, the host next month for Little Bookstore, emailed and asked ever so politely if Jack shared his shortbread recipe, as she’d serve that with cups of tea.

IMG_3636Cups of tea, as those of you who have read it know, is a recurring theme in Little Bookstore, and along with the story of Wee Willie and some comments about the cats, it’s what most readers mention most often, and sometimes first.  Jack and I hear “I’ll put the kettle on” often from people when talking about the book.

So, if you’re in the neighborhood and fancy a drive, we’ll put the kettle on for you. And if you’re too far away, but fancy some Scottish shortbread, here’s Jack’s mum’s recipe:

Sugar 3 ounces (1/3 cup); Flour 8 ounces (2 cups); Butter 6 ounces (1 and a half sticks)

(all weights are dry – NOT fluid ounces)

Sift flour and sugar into a bowl. After butter has softened at room temperature work it by hand into the mixed flour and sugar until it has become a fairly stiff dough (this will take a few minutes – be patient!).

Dust your work-surface with flour and roll out the dough to about ½ inch thick. Cut rectangles about 7 inches by 3 inches and use a flat spatula to transfer them to a buttered baking tray. Use a fork to prick the surface of the dough rectangles all over. Place the tray in the oven preheated to 3750 .

Keep checking until the edges of the rectangles are beginning to slightly brown (usually about 15 – 20 minutes). Remove from the oven and set the tray aside to cool. While the baked rectangles are still warm, carefully cut them into strips 3 inches by 1 inch (Jack uses a circular pizza cutter), then let them completely cool. Enjoy them with afternoon tea or coffee!

A Real Person

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Last week Jack and I headed off to do a book club event. Carolyn got in touch via Facebook, and asked if we would visit two in combination near Wintergreen Resort (a high end retreat in Northern Virginia)

Since we were driving up on a beautiful Spring day and had “all the time in the world” Jack and I did what fools do: turned off our GPS and started back-roading. At 8 pm, twenty miles off target, we left the Blue Ridge Parkway via a dirt road I am pretty sure was an irrigation service track for someone’s cow pasture. (We rehooked the gate after we went through.)

Carolyn and her husband live in a community of DC refugees. The book club’s women were either retired from work in Fairfax or Richmond, or keeping gracious, spacious homes open for men still making the daily commute. Those of you who do author events will recognize the underlying intimidation factor: that gig where, as you stand to speak, you realize the people sitting in the front row could pool their changepurse contents and buy your car.

But they asked such insightful questions amid repeated offers of “Would you like a cup of coffee/tea/juice/wine” so often, we had a great time. One of the attending clubs was called “Needs and Deeds.” They support causes they feel need quiet yet swift attention, donating their own discretionary income but also holding fundraisers, often involving books or handmade items.

The night before the club meeting, we took to our hostess Carolyn right away; she’s the kind of woman who opens her arms and the world walks into them. She cooks and makes things better, maintains graciousness with an effortless grace. She has magnolia-blossom white hair and blue eyes that, when you look in, are just looking for ways to make your day better.

Here’s the kicker, though: as Carolyn was making us a breakfast of fresh ground coffee, cheddar scrambled eggs, homemade bread and jam, and fresh raspberries, we started talking about a book idea I’d been kicking around: “Invisible? the lives of American women after 5o.”

I didn’t bring it up, though; Carolyn did. She was trying to write her family history for the publishing market, and thinking of going back to school. Among other things, she said, she wanted her three daughters to be “proud of her,” to feel that she had “done something with her life.”

I looked at the spacious home full of grandchild spaces, the tended garden, the bread, the dogs – one of whom was a Hurricane Katrina rescue. “Done something?” I repeated.

“Well, I mean, yes, I used to work in a bookstore,” Carolyn said, bunching eggs with her spatula. “In your book, you talk about dreams, living a real life. And my life…”

“Your book club is called ‘Needs and Deeds,’ right?” I asked, blinking.

She smiled. “I know. But I want my daughters to know I was a real person.”

We talked a long time that morning about what a “real person” meant for women with white hair in America, swapping stories, and having some good laughs near tear territory.

And Carolyn, if ever there were a real person, hands and ears and eyes tuned to what’s going on around them, it is you. Whether the outside forces of American society see it or not, you are not invisible, but radiantly transparent. Different thing. God Bless You for it.