A Little Help from our Friends

Jack guest blogs on the value of friendships, especially in small town shops

This weekend we are once again on our travels with book events, from the John Fox Festival here at home, through a visit to Clifton Forge Library, and then on to the Virginia Festival of the Book in Charlottesville. As usual when we are away for a few days our friends rally round to staff the bookstore on rota.

Just call us The Little Book Co-op of Big Stone Gap.

These friends handle book sales, oh yes, but there are also the shop animals to care for, boxes of donated or traded in books to be valued and priced (or politely refused), mail to be collected and opened for book orders, and phone inquiries to be responded to. Although amazed that anyone would be willing to take this on, we are delighted that we have so many friends who will. They represent one aspect of the community presence of our bookstore; we really are almost a co-operative owned by its customers. Quite often a ‘regular’ will be hanging out, checking e-mails or browsing the bookshelves, when suddenly he finds himself in charge of the shop for ten minutes while I do a post office run or dash out for milk.

Occasions like this weekend require a bit more pre-planning, but, despite other calls on folks’ time, we always manage to keep the shop open. We never succumb to the erosion of hours, no matter how tempting; it’s our observation that when small businesses become careless about that, their days are numbered.

So, we pay homage to the many friends of ‘Tales of the Lonesome Pine’ AKA ‘The little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap’.  And we also salute Mark and Sally Smith of Memphis, who are coming to watch the shop for two weeks in April while we get our Christmas and birthdays 2012 and 2013/Valentine’s Day/fifteenth wedding anniversary holiday in. (We’re going to Istanbul. It’s expensive. We’ve been saving for months and we’re going to have the time of our lives.)

You’re going to love Big Stone, Mark and Sally, and they’re gonna love you. Our thanks to you all for keeping the shop while we’re running about promoting a book about bookstores. There’s a certain full-circle feel about it, don’t you think?

For more examples of how people have rallied to their community bookstores, check out the March 18 Christian Science Monitor article detailing bookstores that have been moved, staffed, or even cooked for by locals lending a hand. If you’re in Illinois (Edwardsville, to be precise) check out Afterwords Bookstore, a lovely shop with a similar story. Or ask your local bookshop about their ‘co-op’ friends. They’re guaranteed to have some.

An Open Letter to the Kellermans from a Bookshop Owner

Dear Jonathan and Faye Kellerman:

IMG_3621Please, for the love of God, stop. Have mercy. Have pity. Have some personal pride. Stop.

We get it. You’re brilliant thrillerists. Yes. Fine. You’ve thrilled and titillated us–accent on tit–for years. Thank you.

Don’t you think now is a good time to rest on your laurels, before you actually have to come up with a second plot device?

That day could be coming. Once you pass 100 uses of the same stock characters, readers start noticing. And no matter how much they love you, readers may pick up on other subtle clues as well. Like the assumptive arrogance of publishing a book that doesn’t have a title on it.IMG_3623 Or any printing on the back. Or front. But with a lot of back on the front. That’s kind of a giveaway that you think you’re stronger than market forces. Or your readers’ minds.

But hey, what do I know? I’m just the bookslinger who keeps taking your books in trade. And taking, and taking, and taking. Selling, umm … not so much. Which is where the problem lies. Martha Stewart has this really nice pattern for paving a driveway with hardbacks. We’re thinking of naming it “Kellerman Lane.”

Now don’t get mad, Mr. and Mrs. K; we appreciate all you’ve contributed to the literary world. What is the key to your success? The titles below? Which, if they happen to spell out anything, is completely accidental.

IMG_3624

No no, I’m certain there is IMG_3625Justice in the world. And that your legacy will live forever. More’s the pity. But couldn’t you accept that you have left a great–okay, vast–body of work behind, and retire to some island you could buy with pocket change? And leave us poor bookslingers to get on with finding shelf space–or floor space, or space bag compactors–enough to hold your many fine contributions? Without, oh, say, involving your children? Because of all the scary stories you’ve ever cop–er, devised, this is the scariest: IMG_3629

We don’t wish you ill, dear, kind Kellermans. You’re probably in real life very nice people who plant flower gardens and take the neighbors soup when they’re sick. Please, please, show the same consideration for bookshops. We need just a little shelf space for other authors. There’s that King fellow, and the Clancy lad; they seem to be crowding in. So couldn’t you, wouldn’t you, take a little breather, and give us some breathing room?

Thank you, on behalf of second-hand book shops everywhere.

Sincerely, A Desperate Bookslinger