• A bookstore of my own

    July 6, 2013 / 1 Comment

    Bookstore

    Lately, I’ve had bookstores on the brain.

    While doing one of my monthly real estate porn searches, I stumbled upon an awesome property in Bangor, Maine. It’s an affordable 3-story townhouse on Main Street, right next door to the local opera house. The top floor features a huge master bedroom that opens out to a lovely roof deck. The second floor contains the living areas (family room, kitchen, bathrooms, extra bedrooms), and the ground floor is empty commercial space.

    Now, if I purchased this property, I could easily convert the ground floor into an office or additional living space. Or I could use it for its intended purpose, and open a used bookstore. This fantasy has been on my mind in both the dreaming and the waking realms.

    So what would a Jade Walker-owned bookstore be like?

    Well, my dream bookstore would sell a lot of genre fiction. That’s what I like. That’s what I read. That’s what I know. The stock would be used, and stacked vertically on the shelves, thus saving the avid book browser from developing a nasty case of neck crick. An entire shelf would be dedicated to staff and reader recommendations, but there would also be a themed shelf to celebrate certain holidays/moods.

    Decor would highlight other things that I like: ravens, old typewriters, gargoyles, bats, tombstones, moons, hourglasses, black and white photography and cats. I’d also post quotations on book ends and shelf sides, then change the signs every month or so.

    Comfortable chairs and small reading tables would be positioned throughout the store, and in the back would be a small cafe that serves coffee, tea, water and various baked goods. Internet access would be free, of course. And I’d put the center shelves on wheels so they could be pushed aside for author events.

    Under the cash register, I’d keep a box of intriguing bookmarks (old photos, Metro cards, snippets of poetry, dollar bills). Each customer would receive one of these treasures for free, as a token of my appreciation.

    Despite these fantasies, I’m fully aware that running a used bookstore is no easy task nowadays. For the past 30 years, the big chains — and their deep discounts — have put hundreds of smaller, independent bookstores out of business. The Internet has also claimed a huge chunk of customers. Online retailers offer a wealth of information (back cover blurbs, critical reviews, customer reviews, access to other books by the same author), and deliver purchases right to your home or office. Plus, online retailers are open 24/7, which matters a great deal to vampires like me.

    So yes, I love Amazon just as much as the next person. Why my Kindle has over 250 titles on it, and I’m always adding more. But I still believe there’s a place for the humble bookstore. Much like the local library, it can be an outlet for interaction with favorite writers, a quiet spot to discover new ones and an oasis for bibliophiles who simply prefer to read/buy books in the printed form.

    Perhaps someday, I will own one. A girl can dream.

  • Magical thinking

    July 3, 2013 / No Comments

    “People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in the ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.” –Diane Setterfield

  • Summer is here – Bah! Humbug!

    June 23, 2013 / 2 Comments

    I know I’m in the minority on this one. But I can’t stand summer. When the solstice arrives, the only thing I celebrate is the promise of darkness’ return.

    I hate the bugs. I hate sweating. I don’t care for skimpy summer clothes or sticky, hot car seats. I loathe not being able to bake, and paying out the wazoo for air conditioning. Sun-tanning? Gimme a break. Unlike Superman, I am not solar-powered.

    Sure, grilling is great, unless you’re the person standing over the hot coals. Going to the beach is fun, except when the beach is a two-and-a-half hour drive each way. The one saving grace is ice cream, but even that is something I have to limit to a weekly treat rather than a daily one.

    Summer days are too bright, too warm, too humid and too long. Worst of all, they’re filled with pain. Because for me, summer is migraine season. Yes, I get migraines all year long. But three of my biggest triggers — heat, humidity, storms — occur most often between May and September.

    For the uninitiated, migraines = misery. Imagine the worst headache you’ve ever had, now triple the intensity. Localize the pain to a single location, as if someone is stabbing you in the right eye or at the top of your neck with a rusty ice pick. Toss in exhaustion, nausea, dizziness and extreme sensitivity to light, sound and smells and that’s almost what a migraine feels like. Now imagine having all of that for 8, 10, 15, 24 hours at a time. Two or three times a week. Such is the case for me each summer.

    Yet that’s not even the worst part. The worst part about having migraines is that they murder time, they literally steal your life away. When you have a migraine, it’s nearly impossible to work for 10 hours at a stretch. Or be creative in any sort of capacity. Or hit the gym for a daily workout. It’s beyond frustrating.

    Summer has just begun and yet I’ve already had three migraines this week. One lasted 20 hours, the second 14 hours and last night’s was a 15-hour doozy. Post-migraine, my body and mind are utterly exhausted from the effort of fighting off the pain. And I dread leaving the confines of my air conditioned and barely lit office for fear of getting another one. Yes, I am not a happy camper, my friends, so let me apologize in advance for any grumpiness I may exhibit. I’ll be better when Autumn returns. I promise.

    Summer countdown