Tag Archives: bookstores

The Best Part is still People

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OK, so in just under two weeks I’ll be an official author, with my book launched. Thus it’s only right that I get to sit back on my newly-minted laurels and pontificate about the authorial life, right?

Actually it’s not a far stretch, because the coolest thing about being an author is the coolest thing about being a bookseller: the people that you meet.

People like Kim Beattie (Goodwill Librarian on FB) Robert Gray (Shelf Awareness columnist) Jennifer and Harte and Sarah (booksellers at Ebenezer Books in VT and Bookstore Plus in NY) to name a few of the new friends in the bookslinging crowd, plus some wacko bibliophiles on Twitter and a whole bunch of authors and about a thousand really lovely people who are READERS.

Readers make the world turn. And they’re interesting souls. A couple of publicity things I did recently netted a whole bunch of people emailing to say hi, and telling me about their library experiences as young’uns: how they had to pay fees because they were out in the county, or how their local library closed because the town grew too small to support it; or their work in various bookstores across the States (and England and Canada, in two cases) and the bookstores that are special to them –one woman is driving back across two states to celebrate the 20th anniversary of a bookstore in her hometown–or how they read real books to their grandchildren in shelf-lined rooms with comfy armchairs.

They are so very, very sweet, these human connections made from books. (And granted, they’re being made on computer, but still it’s just like sitting down with a cup of tea and talking to the people who email; I swear in some cases I picture the person with a mug, in others holding a china cup and saucer, without even thinking about it.)

So maybe that’s the coolest thing about books in general: they always come back to people. That’s the people who wrote them and put their ideas out there for us to enjoy (or shred); the people who gather around them to talk and laugh and discuss; the people who sell them to us and ask us what we thought about them and listen to what the book brought up in us, for better or for worse; and the people who read them, and validate those who write.

Huzzah for book people! You are a great tribe and I’m so happy to be a part of you.

Could Haggis Be the New Hot Dog?

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(In the aftermath of Big Stone Celtic, Andrew Whalen guest blogs, as Wendy and Jack lie in darkened rooms with cold cloths on their foreheads. Thanks, Andrew!)

 

Saturday past was the Big Stone Celtic Festival. I loped around with a can of dandelion & burdock, watched people try on druidic-looking cloaks, learned that a bombard was more than just something the Air Force does, and tried a wee bit of haggis dabbed on a slice of bread. And while I have loads of nice things to say about all the performers (no one tells stories quite like John Skelton… or laughs at stories quite like Tim Smith, whose Theremin I never had the opportunity to hear) I really want to talk about the haggis.

I was aware of haggis, but like most Americans I only knew it as a disgusting dish that Scottish people inexplicably pretend to enjoy. It’s made up of sheep “pluck” (organs) leavened a bit with oatmeal, onions and other spices. This is all stuffed into a sausage casing to the approximate plumpness of a grapefruit. It also comes in cans, leaving the market wide open for someone to make the first haggis pudding cups. It’s one of those dishes that inspires an entire culture of serious and silly events, like Burns Supper, haggis hurling, and haggis eating records.

Haggis tastes like polyps of large-grained brown rice held together by a savory paste. It has a similar richness to bone marrow, but less gloopy yolkiness. The brown mash that glues together the oats would probably be revolting alone, like licking a spoon of sludge. It has that umami ability to coat the tongue, leaving you feeling like your food is a lingering mouth guest. But with the oatmeal (and, if that’s not enough, whisky sauce or mashed potatoes) it becomes something rich in texture and taste.

It’s a best-in-small-doses kind of food, which makes me wonder why they only sell it in heavy softball-sized lumps. Why can’t I get this instead of a hot dog?  Where are all the food innovators? Surely the inventor of the corn dog or the White Castle scientist who thought up chicken rings could do something amazing with haggis. Or are you going to make me wait? I can see it now. The year: 2047.  Astonishing new technology has discovered a way to encase haggis into a more palatable shape. Served on a bun with some ketchup, it’s now the most popular snack at the mecha-laserball moon arena. Can’t capitalism make this happen any sooner?