18th August, 2009 by Marcelo - 6 Comments
Following up on Christina’s post about beat-up books (including the wonderful picture of that ratty duct-taped version of Twilight), I thought I’d share pictures of the books I talked about in the comments. Here are two examples of books worn down by love and adoration and time.
These are perhaps my two most prized possessions in book form: a paperback copy of Roald Dahl’s masterpiece for children The Witches, purchased by a 7 year-old me in London in 1988, and an edition of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby from before I was born with beautiful cursive notes from my senior year AP English teacher, the late Mrs. Theibert.
Ann Theibert was one of those teachers you remember for the rest of your life. Thin and wrinkled with a wicked cackle of a voice, she looked and sounded like a cartoon–a caricature of an old spinster teacher who was about to assign you the worst homework of your life. But she had just about the sharpest mind I had ever encountered, a mind bolstered by annual excursions to places like Cairo and Casablanca. There wasn’t a single book you could get by her that she hadn’t at least heard of. And she was always pulling books off the shelf behind her to hand to people to read (she insisted on three books at a time, one in class, one at home, and one for fun). For me she pulled Gatsby, and when I opened it I was delighted to find her handwritten notes on the first few pages in that precise perfect cursive. My friend Ben called it the Theibert Annotated Edition.
Mrs. Theibert is no longer with us. She passed away after a tough illness a few years after I graduated high school. I ‘m so thankful that I have this memory of her and this evidence that not only was she real, but she was smart and alive and she left real proof of her time here. I revere this specific book. I will never part with it.
As for The Witches, it was one of my first book purchases and part of a 6-month stay in London my brother and I endured with our parents in the Fall of ‘88. Relentlessly mocked for our American accents by our schoolmates, my brother and I stuck it out in the local library, where we read everything from Asterix comic books to the works of Roald Dahl, who quickly became my favorite author. I vividly remember reading this very same book at the tender age of 7, scared to death because it was about REAL WITCHES in England, and here I was in England and all the ladies wore gloves and spoke funny and smelled weird. I remember asking my mother if a witch could ever get me. It was the only time I think I was legitimately frightened by a book. To this day I get shivers up my spine thinking about it.
This book has stayed with me all these years, thanks to my mother, who kept it in her house while I was in college. It survived the move from my childhood home to my mother’s current house by the mountains, and I finally took possession of it when I moved into where I’m living now. But I’ve used this book over and over. When I worked in daycare I read aloud from that same book to my kids many summers in a row. When I’m looking for a quick one-day read I fish it out with anticipation and delight. And someday I hope to read it to my children and pass it on to them. This battered, yellow, disintegrating paperback will stay with our family as long as it can survive.
So there you have it, two books worn down not by artistic vanity or callous inconsideration, but by dedicated and meaningful love. My mom once told me that the opposite of love was indifference. I can think of no worse fate for a book than to never be opened.
(Clicking on the pictures opens up larger versions on my Flickr page.)
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28th July, 2009 by Marcelo - 4 Comments
For the Love & Books series on Stacked, Christina isn’t the only one with that lovin’ feeling (after all, I’m getting married in five days!). So to kick off this week of reading about love, I’d like to present an underrated book by one of my favorite authors, Haruki Murakami – South of the Border, West of the Sun.
The basic plot: Hajime was a young boy when he met Shimamoto, a girl with a limp who became his best friend. After years of sharing each other’s deepest secrets, they’re separated by going to different high schools, and before you know it Hajime is married with two kids and he owns a successful chain of jazz bars. It’s been 25 years since they last saw each other when Shimamoto walks into one of his bars, and her entrance in his life leads to a whole host of “what-ifs” that plague Hajime and threaten his marriage and his financial success (his wife’s father is the primary investor in his bars).
What I find fascinating about this book is the way Murakami makes Shimamoto a ghost from the past, even when she’s standing right in front of Hajime. She doesn’t talk about where she’s been or what she’s been up to. She wears expensive clothes and disappears for weeks on end, appearing at erratic intervals with no rhyme or reason. She pleads to Hajime to never think about where she might be going or what she has to do when she’s not with him. It’s the kind of surreal conceit that Murakami does so well, blending the detail-oriented Western world with the mystical promise of the ghosts of Japan. It’s no coincidence that Hajime’s success in his work and life is primarily a Western one – he runs two clubs that feature American jazz music, he lives a financially comfortable lifestyle more in line with what Westerners consider successful (lots of money, a nice wife, two kids, franchising opportunities, all his affairs in order). Shimamoto offers him not only a sense of nostalgia combined with newness, but also an escape from the ontological cage that Hajime’s lifestyle has built around him.
But that newness is unattainable. In the same way that Hajime is unable to know the details and particulars of Shimamoto’s life, he is also unable to fully connect with her. Their fates were sealed when they parted ways in high school. Now there’s too much baggage, too much that is unknowable, and too much time has passed for them to go back and make different choices about their lives. The connection that Hajime might have had with Shimamoto is close and palpable but ultimately unknowable. Murakami’s surreal dismissal of Shimamoto’s details is his way of making this point clear with subtlety and grace and he succeeds magnificently.
There is one other subplot that’s worth talking about. Between his friendship with Shimamoto and marrying his wife, Hajime had a girlfriend in college named Izumi, whom he hurt very badly by having a crazy affair with her hyper-sexual cousin. This act of betrayal frames the main story and outlines the very real consequences of what going back on the choices you make really means. Throughout the novel we hear about Izumi’s life through secondhand sources, friends of friends, until Murakami pays off this part of the story in a final arresting image that connects the unknowability of what might have been with the cosmic wounds that linger when you try to make those phantom connections real.
Like After Dark, this is another novel that Murakami fans don’t pay much attention to, which is a shame because it’s one of his most emotionally passionate books. Lesser authors have made affairs a type of wish fulfillment where sexy and alluring partners can help us break out of our emotionally dry and boring lives. Murakami avoids this by never flinching from the consequences of Hajime’s attempts to know the unknowable. Even though Hajime couldn’t have known that Shimamoto would come back and talk to him again, never once does Murakami excuse him from his commitment not only to his wife and kids but to the fabric of the universe that tells us that we go through this life once and we have to accept the consequences of our actions. Hajime’s attempts to connect with Shimamoto (and his decision to cheat on Izumi) are attempts to break that fabric and undo the turns of his life, and that has cosmic consequences all the way to the final heartbreaking line of this wonderful novel.
Like I said earlier in the post, I’m getting married in five days to a woman whom I love very much. Planning this wedding, preparing myself for the commitment I’m about to make, it’s made me reflective about the choices I’ve made that have brought me here. I imagine if I had made different choices I wouldn’t be marrying this amazing woman. There are a million different Marcelos that could be existing right now but those variations are truly unknowable, and trying to know them is futile and dangerous. South of the Border, West of the Sun is a book that understands that concept inherently. It’s a wise and thoughtful book about love’s double-edged sword.
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24th July, 2009 by Christina - 3 Comments
The original plan for today was to talk about the assumptions we make about other people’s books. And we sort of will–but with a slight divergence.
Over dinner last night a friend told me she thought it was hilarious that no one owned up to owning any sex books. She then proceeded to tell me a great story about the risks they pose in a relationship.
Dating is like traversing a field waiting to step on a landmine that proves our assumptions about the other person–we read that we should pay attention to how they treat the waitstaff at dinner and compare their actions to our exes. What we are looking for is a number of things. Are they a kind person? Will they make a good partner or parent? How are they in bed?
Those assumptions can be compounded when we see their book collection and even more so when we see what sex books they own. For the sake of this story, we’ll call my friend Lizzy and the guy in question John.
Lizzy had been going out with John for a little while and things were going pretty alright. John was an intellectual and adventurer–traits Lizzy admired.
Being a published author, books were of special importance to him. Upon first glance, it was very clear that his collection of books were arranged and selected as if being curated.
One night, back at his place, she noticed a book. How to Make Love All Night: And Drive a Woman Wild!
She looked at it inquiringly and asked him about it. John said he owned the book because you can never have too many techniques. So she opened it up to take a look and said to him,
Oh, no. No woman wants this. No woman wants to do it All. Night. Long.
Her first assumption having now looked into this book was that John wasn’t going to be good in bed if he was using a book that so little met the needs of what women actually wants as crib-notes. And she was right.
At this point in her life, Lizzy was looking to settle down and thought she’d maybe found “The One.” He was great in many ways, except the sex. So she resigned herself to a life of bad sex; maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible hardship. She did make him give up the book. The apartment building he lived in had a table in which the inhabitants would leave the occasional tchotchke for others to take. The book spent three weeks on the table (lingering long after the troll statues had been grabbed) and one day disappeared.
Eventually, Lizzy and John broke up. He apparently had big-time commitment issues that she’d been willing to overlook along with the lack of decent love making.
[When] I saw [the book] immediately my suspicions began. This man was going to be bad in bed, or had issues with women. He didn’t know what to do or how to communicate with his partner regarding intimate issues. Of course, I chose to ignore all of that, which only lead to heartbreak later…but live and learn! All of my suspicions were true!
Advice books are supposed to guide us and help us become better people, even between the sheets. Yet, more often then not we find ourselves complaining about both the ones marketed to us and for the opposite sex. I was sure, however, that there had to be some good books out there. Or maybe it was not so much the books, but how individuals approached the content. Discussing Lizzy’s story with another friend provided some insight that books about sex aren’t necessarily a warning sign and can at times rev things up between a couple.
There’s a lot of crap out there written by a lot of idiots. There are some that are pretty straightforward–encyclopedic. Some are fun and some are insightful.
I personally never look to a book for advice on sex.
I might read a book to learn more about areas of sex or relationships I don’t have much experience with…one can sometimes benefit from the experience of others, provided that the author is smart and has the proper attitude.
It can also be exciting at times to read about things that others have done even if you, yourself, would not necessarily do it… and that excitement can translate to excitement in your bedroom (or kitchen or living room or elevator, etc).
After our discussion, it was clear that John may have benefited from the advice in a book, he just made a very poor choice in choosing a book. Based on other factors, and her story, Lizzy and I made the assumption that one day, after he felt enough time had passed, John had probably gone back downstairs to salvage the book and hide it away in hopes of using it for future reference. However, bad advice is still bad advice and doesn’t help one learn from the mistakes of a past relationship.
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20th July, 2009 by Christina - 7 Comments
When it comes to meeting the love of your life (or the hour…), dating websites, books, and gurus all say that you “have to get yourself out there!” Sitting around at home reading books isn’t going to work as a plan of attack for meeting people. Most dating advice sources will give you a few suggestions about where to go to meet people, some of which are general suggestions (the park, a bar), while others are niche/interest specific (karate class, art gallery). One that pops up regularly on such lists is the bookstore or library.
In our survey, we asked Stacked readers if they’d ever met or gone out with someone they had met in a bookstore, and the response was almost unanimous…they all loved the idea but were always too busy looking at the books to notice any people. Apparently using your local Barnes & Noble as a singles joint only works if you don’t actually read and are there specifically to scope out the hotties. Even if they went in with that intention, I don’t know a single avid reader who wouldn’t be distracted by a display table.
Now, the big chain bookstores are a bit tough–they’re so big, cold, and rather impersonal. Maybe it’s easier to make a love match at an independent shop where the staff knows the reading taste of their regulars–they could play the role of matchmaker, setting customers up based on their conversations and book preferences. Word Bookstore is actually attempting to take that challenge on after a regular commented on a special order of books she had noticed and asked store manager, Stephanie, if the person for whom they’d been ordered was a single man (and if Stephanie wouldn’t mind setting them up).
Stephanie took the idea of offering “matchmaking” services in the store to Christine, owner of Word, and a plan was hatched: in the store singles can fill out a form and post it on a reserved cork board for other singles to look over. Each time I’ve been by, the staff is chatting up a storm with the customers, offering recommendations. I commented on this to Stephanie and asked if any of the staff had done their own matchmaking amongst the regulars, to which she replied, “Ha! Yes, sorry, we are.* Never have tried, nope, this will be our first attempt.”
While the staff won’t be getting hands on in the actual matchmaking, Stephanie will be keeping “an eye on the slips to make sure they’re not obviously fake, but that will be the extent of our involvement.” She also has the perfect suggestion for the avid readers that do connect with someone else on the board, ”I think people should start their first dates in the store—it’s a nice safe place to meet up with someone you don’t know!”
Prior to the board, neither Stephanie nor Christine have seen their customers make a love match in the store, but both had the same reaction (S: “That would be too cool.”/C: “That would make me SO HAPPY.”) They have, however, had customers meet and form other sorts of relationships–a writer making friends with someone who eventually became his agent, for example. There are also a number of couples who come into shop together. “I love it, especially when one buys a book for the other, which happens a lot. Sometimes the couples are super lovey-dovey and they tend to buy more books, which is awesome on every level.”
The survey participants were pretty much of the same thought about the book tastes of the person they were involved with. Stephanie confirmed this opinion from her vantage point of observing couples,
I don’t think they have to be exactly similar, but they have to have some overlap. I’m sure many people have their literary deal breakers, which is why we left a space for that on our form. I’ve read a lot of books I never would have thought to pick up if they weren’t recommended to me by someone I loved/if I wasn’t trying to impress someone. What’s most important is that they read, period.
Since the matchmaking board is still in its infancy, only time will tell if it is a success. I’m not aware of any other bookstores offering such a service (please let me know if you hear of any other shops doing something similar and their success with it). As Christine put it, “Let’s hope some good stuff comes from this board.”
Visit Word and add your own form to the board. Word is located at 126 Franklin Street in Brooklyn and is open daily. I’ll be there tomorrow night to add my own form to the board and for the Hot and Wicked Botanical Book Night! (7:30pm) with Margot Berwin (Hothouse Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire) and Amy Stewart (Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Lincoln’s Mother and other Botanical Atrocities). **
*I personally love going to shops where the staff is working there because they love sharing. Word and Bergen Street Comics are two of my favorite shops precisely because you can get into a thirty-minute conversation about something you just read with whoever is behind the counter.
** Both books are linked to Barnes & Noble only because WORD does not have online shopping yet. Go get these books at your local bookseller though–not a big chain.
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10th July, 2009 by Christina - 6 Comments
It’s personal details time on Stacked! You know, where I share more than I ever intend to…
I don’t date a lot. How could I and read this much?
Joking aside, I’ve just never been much of a dater. Every once in awhile people have tried to rope me into online dating and send me links to dating/relationship related sites. While I’ve avoided the online dating thing, I do follow engaging blogs such as Sex, Lies, and Dating. Besides having her link in my feedreader, I also follow Simone on Twitter.
Coincidentally, both she and Matt posted links to the same site over the course of a week, which leads me to geek dating and books. Simone linked to a tongue-in-cheek article about online dating profiles, while Matt linked to a service the site’s owner runs…geek matchmaking. And she features a male and female “geek of the month” on her newsletter. Needless to say, despite my aversion to online dating, I’m now registered to be one of her featured geeks.
Then, today, I was reading the archives on Ari’s blog and noticed a post about being happy being single that she had received at the end of a relationship and how she managed to learn that lesson on her own without the book. Meanwhile, Word now has a literary matchmaking board up (more to come), and Amy at Bergen Street Comics and I had a discussion the other week about how comics are a great way for women to meet men.
All of this got me thinking about the people we choose to date. I’ve dated plenty of non-geeks and there’s a reason. I think part of the reason those relationships didn’t work out was because of a mental disconnect–we wanted to talk about different things. When one date mentioned (proudly) that he hadn’t picked up a book since high school, I should have been tipped off to run the other way. Our approaches to life were drastically different and we had nothing to talk about for the handful of months we were together. I learned through these relationships and through my singledom what it was I wanted in a partner, how I expected to be treated, and a lot about myself.
There’s a quote that came my way not to long ago. I have no clue where it came from, but it struck a chord with me and I’d love to give credit where credit is due:
Don’t date someone who’s exciting. Date someone who is interesting.
That’s the thing about geeks–those of us who read a lot and like to share what we got out of the book or who have really odd hobbies have a wealth of stuff to talk about. When you and the person you are with have a variety of interests, it opens new worlds of things to try, learn, and talk about even if your interests are different. My mother has no interest in reading Lord of the Rings, but through my father’s geekdom was able to enjoy the movies. They each have their shelves in the study that are jam-packed with books, and I’m pretty sure my mother had a secret “I told you the book was good” smile when my father finally got around reading Mansfield Park.
So, while I wait to be paired up with other geeks through this matchmaking service, I’ve decided to do a little series on dating and have some questions to ask of you. Please email me your responses at info@stackedblog.com so that what comes out in the posts is a surprise! Questions after the jump. (more…)
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