Shopsitter Janelle’s Guest Blog

Janelle on porchThe idea for a trip to Virginia to shopsit was hatched on a quiet April night in Kaukauna, Wisconsin, when Delaney (my fifth daughter, age 9) and I were volunteering at their library during the Fox Cities Book Festival. We were hosts for Wendy Welch’s event. I’d perused Wendy’s blog and was intrigued by her story and her writing voice, and I was tickled to get to introduce her that evening at the event (that’s a promotion from straight volunteer!).

DSCN0560Delaney and I enjoyed the presentation by Wendy and her husband Jack, and at the end of it we bought a copy of their book, had it signed, took a silly photo with Wendy (Delaney’s request)…and in our parting, I said, “The next time you need a shop sitter, I’m your gal.” I say things like that, and I actually mean them, too.

DSCN0559We friended each other on Facebook later that evening, and it seems like it was just two weeks later when Wendy messaged her summer needs for a shopsitter. I was tickled, but there was a lot to manage yet in my spring schedule, and I couldn’t totally conceive of how it would all work. But it turned out that there was, indeed, a week when my two of my five daughters and I could make it to Virginia. Plans were confirmed.

I’d have loved to have brought all five, but three work all of the hours that they can at their jobs, so  it became clear that Natalie (age 15), Delaney (still 9), and I (age unnecessary) would be going on an adventure.

Janelle sceneryWe departed the Green Bay area at 6:30AM (only 1/2 hour behind our intended departure time) and headed for Big Stone Gap. With only very minor issues (including being flipped off at our first toll stop in Chicago), we very much enjoyed our trip south and east…then east and south…and yet further south…through amazing scenery and gorgeous natural landscapes (more interestingly beautiful the closer we got)…right into Big Stone and right up to the front steps of Tales of the Lonesome Pine (aka the Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap), where the lights were on and the beds made in our honor. (Wendy was teaching a night class.) It was just about 8PM, eastern standard time…and the store looked exactly the same as its pictures on the book and in this blog.

We walked in and found our way around the shop/house/cafe according to Wendy’s directions, moved in our luggage, and then walked straight to the Dairy Queen a few blocks away. It called to us. And by the time we returned, Wendy was home.

janelle viewWe visited a bit, got a crash course set of instructions on selling books and collecting for cafe receipts (Delaney was delighted and most excited to be able to help any customers needing to process credit cards) and were told that Wendy would be leaving early the next morning, meaning we would open the shop and start the day that way. Okay! We were ready.

We attempted sleep…and two of the three of us got some. And then it was time. Wendy handed me my first cup of coffee and showed me how and where to get more. From there I could manage anything (I had my cup of joe)! And she was off. In her wake there were a couple of dogs in the shop who needed to be downstairs,by my recollection of instructions, but I got that sorted out, the girls got up and moving, and we were ready for the day.

The books on the shelves called to me, and I perused them with adoration, drawn to familiar authors or titles…or titles that made me giggle or feel intrigued. Wendy said part of the shopsitting deal was we got to take “any and all books you want.”

“Even if I empty out the shelves?” I thought to myself.

I started a stack with a beautiful hardcover copy of Michael Chabon’s Telegraph Avenue. Umm…note that said stack is currently divided into two stacks, each a foot-plus high.

janelle basketThere was a long time, though, between 7AM and our 10AM opening. I spent quite a bit of that time looking for light switches (Have you read the book? Then you’ll understand.) and some didn’t get found until helpful Erin arrived. I very much enjoyed the visits with and time spent getting to know Erin and Kelley, chief and sous chefs of the Second Story Cafe upstairs, and she also provided a second and maybe third cup of coffee. (And later bowls of delicious sausage and chicken gumbo. And a grilled cheese sandwich for Delaney.)

Soon the door opened and then I blinked and two days had passed, with the graceful entrances of friendly folks, either to peruse books or to meet Wendy because they’d read Little Bookstore or to eat in the cafe or to pick up food or specifically coming to welcome us. And those at the end of that list certainly made a tremendous impact. How wonderful to be welcomed into this small place; it has big hearts.

And so this is starting, very much, to feel like a treasured other home. (Don’t worry, Jack! We’re not more cats moving in.) I like it here. I enjoy visiting with customers, straightening, sorting, playing with foster kittens, helping folks find books, and “ringing up” purchases. Things got even more exciting Friday when I got to serve a few lunches in the cafe. Mind you, I have zero waitressing experience in my past, but I do LOVE good food and ENJOY good service. So I did do my best; hopefully Kelley thinks so, too.

We have a few more days of fun to go! Stop in and say hello.

Caretaking the Eternal Library of Humanity

My friend Anita out in Kansas is looking to relocate the bookshop she manages, Al’s Old and New Books. She has discovered that some people think used bookshops are…. downmarket, while others prefer the term “passe.”

Bollocks!

Jack and I have often commented that we oversee a library of ever-changing leftovers, some of which have mass appeal, some of which have esoteric appeal. But the reason we like what we do is that we’re not full of the latest bestseller, face outward on the aisle so mega-shoppers walking to the mall can be enticed by “Oh, I heard about that on Twitter!” impulse moments.

We have the long-term, hardcore stuff. The 1970s classics on Marxism, the Leif Ungers and Robert Fords and Lisa Changes. People who write well but disappeared into the well of marketing madness with nary a splash. My agent Pamela and I were talking one day about the “nebulous” position of used book stores in the publishing world. “After all, NYC doesn’t make any money from them,” she said, but then added, “but we all benefit from them. You are the caretakers of humanity’s eternal library, aren’t you? Like a benevolent dragon trying to get the gold horde out there instead of sit on it.”

Used book stores are the place where the sounds of silence outweigh the shrieks of hawkers telling you why THIS BOOK is the Next Great Thing. You can look for yourself–and thus see for yourself–in a used books shop. In a society that equates old with “has been” rather than “wisdom,” used books shops are a place for those who know when not to swallow a line.

We love running one. And this week, we’ve sold an amazing number of  what from a mainstream point of view would be “nobody’s gonna buy these” books. We sold about 20 volumes of philosophy. No, really, PHILOSOPHY! Mostly 1960s textbooks and treatises.

We sold a great wheen of French novels, both translated and in the original language. And we sold a set of plays written in the 1700s. A cheap, simple copy for someone who wanted to look at their structure. $3.20 and out the door she went.

This is part of why used book shops matter. It’s nice to have big well-lit shops with the bestsellers in them at full retail, but it’s also nice to have a dowdy little community center where you can think for yourself. That, and the $1.50 cuppa and the comfy couches and the cat option and the fact that if you come in and say, “Oh crap, I left my wallet at home,” we will say, “Fine, we’ll write it in the ledger and you can pay us next time you come.” And the customer, who only gets down from Ohio four times a year, stares at you like you’ve gone mad, and comes back two months later and pays up.

This is why it’s important for us to be here. Downmarket, my arse. Up the caretakers of the eternal library of humanity!