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$5 For You!
So, I’ve got here in my wallet a gift card to Powell’s Books, a gift card that I did not realize I had. It has $5 dollars on it. I would like to mail it to someone as a giveaway, but that someone has to earn it. Basically, what I’m interested in hearing is a story about someone’s experience at a bookstore, any bookstore, good or bad experience, and so on. I will judge what story I like the best and then get that person’s mailing address somehow. I will announce whose story I liked on Wednesday morning, and then whoever told that story will be the winner, if that makes sense.
Okay, my lame story is this: I first went to Powell’s a few years ago while I was at the Tin House conference. A bunch of us took the bus into town, missed our stop, and then had to walk a lot of blocks back over some bridge to the store. In Powell’s, I felt overwhelmed. The shelves were very very tall. I could not reach certain shelves. I walked back and forth through the shelves and gawked at the amount of books that were on the shelves. I am someone who is only familiar with Barnes & Nobles, so yeah. Then, maybe about ten minutes before we were to leave, I found the ‘independent’ shelves. These shelves were on a back wall and next to them I found the ‘literary journals.’ On the literary journal shelves I found the 2005 and 2006 issues of NOON and Pindeldyboz #3. I bought the two issues of NOON but left the Pboz. I regret that decision. I think about it all the time. I regret it. I should have bought all three. Somewhere out there is a Pboz #3 that I did not purchase. I suppose I could go to the website and order one of the five issues that are left, but I sometimes think I’d rather just whine about the whole thing instead.
Anyhow, post your bookstore stories in the comments section, if you’d like. Or, if you want, you may email them to our HTMLGIANT email address.
Tags: cash money, Powell's
From an EWN post I wrote in April 2006:
“LBC – gooood. EWN – not so much.
Today I visited a few different Borders locations, and one in particular had three of the current LBC titles under discussion on their front table – Ford, Murphy and Heti.
The three copies of Heti’s Ticknor caught my eye, especially as a woman who I’d guess was in her early fifties was picking one up. She didn’t glance at the blurbs, or skim the inside flap jacket – she just grabbed it like there was a line for them. I said, “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you where you heard about that particualr book? Did you read her short story collection?”
Her response was “It’s being discussed on the Litblog Co-op this week and it sounded good.”
I smiled and said, “That’s so cool that you’re just grabbing a copy because of the LBC -I’m actually one of the members.” I then extended my hand and said, “My name is Dan Wickett of the Emerging Writers Network.”
Remember, LBC – gooood. EWN – not so much.
Her reply was to quickly shake my hand and state, “Oh, that’s one of the links I didn’t like so much.” She then took her Ticknor towards the counter, leaving me with the front table to try to hide under.”
From an EWN post I wrote in April 2006:
“LBC – gooood. EWN – not so much.
Today I visited a few different Borders locations, and one in particular had three of the current LBC titles under discussion on their front table – Ford, Murphy and Heti.
The three copies of Heti’s Ticknor caught my eye, especially as a woman who I’d guess was in her early fifties was picking one up. She didn’t glance at the blurbs, or skim the inside flap jacket – she just grabbed it like there was a line for them. I said, “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you where you heard about that particualr book? Did you read her short story collection?”
Her response was “It’s being discussed on the Litblog Co-op this week and it sounded good.”
I smiled and said, “That’s so cool that you’re just grabbing a copy because of the LBC -I’m actually one of the members.” I then extended my hand and said, “My name is Dan Wickett of the Emerging Writers Network.”
Remember, LBC – gooood. EWN – not so much.
Her reply was to quickly shake my hand and state, “Oh, that’s one of the links I didn’t like so much.” She then took her Ticknor towards the counter, leaving me with the front table to try to hide under.”
i went into a bookstore once. on madison avenue. i’d never really read anything “for fun” before, and didn’t really know how to choose. i looked around a long time before a saleslady asked if she could help me. i guess i didn’t look like i could afford a book. or knew how to read.
anyway, she asked me “so, what are you looking for?” and i said “something that makes me feel better than reading the newspaper. and i don’t want a love story.” she asked me a few more questions and i walked out with Toni Morrison’s Beloved. I didn’t understand what I think i was supposed to understand about it. but i understood enough to know that someone else knew what it was like to live like me. to see ghosts. to be angry. to miss people you hate and love people who don’t deserve it. and i knew i’d found the right book when i read the chapter that didn’t have any punctuation because it made sense to me that there are things, words, emotions, that don’t stop for anything.
i never went back in there again. i didn’t want to ruin a good thing.
i went into a bookstore once. on madison avenue. i’d never really read anything “for fun” before, and didn’t really know how to choose. i looked around a long time before a saleslady asked if she could help me. i guess i didn’t look like i could afford a book. or knew how to read.
anyway, she asked me “so, what are you looking for?” and i said “something that makes me feel better than reading the newspaper. and i don’t want a love story.” she asked me a few more questions and i walked out with Toni Morrison’s Beloved. I didn’t understand what I think i was supposed to understand about it. but i understood enough to know that someone else knew what it was like to live like me. to see ghosts. to be angry. to miss people you hate and love people who don’t deserve it. and i knew i’d found the right book when i read the chapter that didn’t have any punctuation because it made sense to me that there are things, words, emotions, that don’t stop for anything.
i never went back in there again. i didn’t want to ruin a good thing.
I think both of these deserve the 5$. Ryan, tough job for you, man.
I think both of these deserve the 5$. Ryan, tough job for you, man.
Not to make your decision more difficult, but this happened to me:
I was at the Strand on 18th Street last year. Just cruising, really. I was looking at the paperback tables and found a re-issue of Djuna Barnes “Ladies Almanac” out from Dalkey Archive. I love Nightwood and had just finished re-reading it, trying to really get at the thing, which has a way of not letting you. Anyway, I was carrying the paperback around with the intention of eventually paying for it at the register. I’m walking through some stacks, really with no clue of why I’m going one way and not another, I’m skimming the spines and see a old dust-jacket with “Ladies Almanac” printed on its spine. I was like “oh, snap, this is the real shit.” I pick up the old hardcover, replace the paperback to where I found it, and bring this book–a Harper & Bros. first edition from the 60’s (not sure if this was the first American edition or not — WikiP tells me she wrote the almanac in 1928)–to the counter. I get home with the thing, page through the front matter and a piece of onion-skin typing paper, folded in quarter, falls out of the book. I open the thing up and its the foreword typed out with two different hands of editing marks on it. It’s the foreword as allegedly typed by Djuna Barnes. So, I guess, she slipped it into a random first edition? Or not, and it’s fake. I still haven’t looked into it.
Not to make your decision more difficult, but this happened to me:
I was at the Strand on 18th Street last year. Just cruising, really. I was looking at the paperback tables and found a re-issue of Djuna Barnes “Ladies Almanac” out from Dalkey Archive. I love Nightwood and had just finished re-reading it, trying to really get at the thing, which has a way of not letting you. Anyway, I was carrying the paperback around with the intention of eventually paying for it at the register. I’m walking through some stacks, really with no clue of why I’m going one way and not another, I’m skimming the spines and see a old dust-jacket with “Ladies Almanac” printed on its spine. I was like “oh, snap, this is the real shit.” I pick up the old hardcover, replace the paperback to where I found it, and bring this book–a Harper & Bros. first edition from the 60’s (not sure if this was the first American edition or not — WikiP tells me she wrote the almanac in 1928)–to the counter. I get home with the thing, page through the front matter and a piece of onion-skin typing paper, folded in quarter, falls out of the book. I open the thing up and its the foreword typed out with two different hands of editing marks on it. It’s the foreword as allegedly typed by Djuna Barnes. So, I guess, she slipped it into a random first edition? Or not, and it’s fake. I still haven’t looked into it.
Yeah, um, make that 12th street.
Yeah, um, make that 12th street.
Oh my God. That is amazing.
[…] reminds me also of the 5$ Powell’s Gift Card giveaway that I posted the other week. I’d like to award that gift card to Michael, who posted a story in the comments about […]