In Which I Return (briefly) to My Dream Job

When I was fifteen, my dream job was to work at a department store and sell perfume. I have no idea what that was about. I don't even like perfume. Maybe I thought it sounded like easy work--lounging behind a glass counter, arranging bottles, spritzing people...

The jobs I ended up with were so far away from that perfumy vision, it's laughable. I chopped whole chickens in half at York Steakhouse. I scrubbed pizza pans at Papa Gino's Pizzeria. I flipped steaks at Ponderosa. I busted my butt waiting tables at TGI Fridays and Perkins (jobs I still have nightmares about). At the end of my shifts, let's just say, I did not smell like perfume.

When I was in grad school, a friend of mine suggested I apply for a job where he worked, a bookstore. This sounded like a cool gig. I knew how to work a cash register. I wouldn't have to wear a grease-spattered polyester uniform. I had what I thought was an extensive knowledge of books.

What I didn't have was much experience with bookstores, unless you count bopping into one of those Walden Books places at the mall every Christmas to pick out a yearly calendar. Up to that point, I was a total library fan girl.

But man oh man, the first time I stepped foot into the Davis Kidd Booksellers store in Memphis, I swooned. 100,000 + books. Bookcases upon bookcases. Tables piled high with stacks. And more books lining the walls. Comfy chairs. Cozy nooks. Pillows.

Oh! a book-loving, nerdy, poet-writing grad student could get lost for days in a place like that. I loved everything about working at Davis Kidd except for one rule: we were not allowed to read on the job. I confess that I did. Unpacking boxes of fresh new books and arranging them on the shelves, geez, how could you not stop to read the blurbs on the backs?  Or thumb through the pages. Or, um, read a couple of chapters?

My co-workers were the coolest people, fellow book lovers, many with advanced degrees or students like me (like I?) See, if I were still working there, I could ask any grammar question, and someone would know the answer. This was before the internet, before you could ask your phone any question in the world and get an almost instantaneous answer. No, children, before the internet, before smart phones, you had to just sit around and wonder what the answer was.

Or, you could call Davis Kidd Booksellers and a clerk would tell you.

I'm not lying. We got calls like that all the time.

We also hosted story times and author signings. We chatted with customers about the latest bestsellers, classics, and forgotten gems. People browsed around, listening to music and sipping coffee.

Bookstores, sadly, tragically, are struggling, and many are going out of business. It's hard to compete with the low prices and convenience of Amazon. And more and more people are downloading books on e-readers. I'm not knocking this practice. But I do so hope that we'll still have places for book-loving people to gather and browse.

This Saturday, Nov. 30, is Small Business Saturday. Author Sherman Alexie put out a call to fellow writers to support their local independent bookstores. Shop. Volunteer to work. Hand sell books. So, that is what I am going to do.

You can find me at my favorite bookstore in Columbus--Cover to Cover Bookstore.

Please come out and say hello. I promise I will not be reading on the job.

Random Thoughts on Book Signings (with Fun Vintage Pics)

So, I am in the process of setting up three book signings and therefore thinking a lot about book signings.

One thing I've noticed is that book signings these days tend to have titles. Recently, I've attended a Fierce Reads Tour and a Dark Days Tour. Also, a Good Girls/Bad Boys in YA Fiction Tour.

For my "tour" I am toying around with this title: "Places Where Jody Lives or Once Lived and Knows Some People Who Live in Those Places and Therefore Might Show Up" Tour. Whatdaya think?

(For the record my tentative schedule for the "PWJLOOLAKSPWLITPATMSU" Tour is as follows:

Columbus, Ohio: Saturday, Sept. 7 from 2:00-4:00 at Cover to Cover Bookstore

Lexington, KY: Saturday, Sept. 21 from 2:00-3:30 at Morris Book Shop

Memphis, TN: Saturday, Oct. 26 at 2:00 at The Booksellers at Laurelwood

Make a note family and friends! Also, peeps in CT, don't worry, you are on my radar next...)

I like going to author book signings and as someone who used to work at a bookstore, I have attended many. My favorite, back in those days, were cookbook authors. Those signings usually included food, and if we bookstore clerks waited patiently, sometimes we got to have a taste of sample recipes.

I've been to book signings (Louis Sachar, Sue Grafton, Jane Fonda, Madeleine L'Engle, Veronica Roth) where the line snaked out the door. Also, I've witnessed a few book signings as a bookstore clerk where no one showed up except the bookstore clerks. I will kindly not mention who the authors were for those...

The most crowded book signing I've ever attended was a children's author, Mary Pope Osborne of Magic Tree House series fame. My daughter, at age seven, was a HUGE fan, and I promised her we'd buy Osborne's latest book and get it signed. But, I almost reneged on this promise when we pulled up to the overflowing bookstore parking lot (and this is the huge bookstore Joseph Beth in Lexington that has two stories and space for like, 100,000+ books). We waited in line for two hours to reach Mary Pope Osborne, and I must say she was very sweet, taking a minute to smile and chat with my daughter before continuing on with the 100 people behind us.

There is something VERY cool about meeting and chatting with the author of your favorite book. I burst into tears when I had the chance to meet one of my favorite childhood authors Madeleine L'Engle. And I was similarly tongue-tied when I meet Barbara Kingsolver and Meg Rosoff. 

The idea that people might wait in a line to get my book signed kinda freaks me out if I think about it too much.

But then it hit me. I've had some practice signing books before...

Twenty three years ago, when I worked at Davis Kidd Bookstore (now Booksellers at Laurelwood) in Memphis, I got roped into doing a signing. Every Saturday there was a children's story time at the bookstore and for some reason, this one particular Saturday, they decided to add a book signing by a costumed character into the mix.

I played the costumed character Madeline. I remember waiting in the back room as a clerk read the story. You may remember that the book begins like this: "In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines... the smallest one was Madeline."

After she finished reading, the clerk said something like "And now we have a special guest with us..." That was my cue to walk out.

I was wearing a ginormous head mask, which turns out is frightening to young children. Also, it was false advertising because I was not "the smallest one" those kids had been picturing. A few of the children burst into tears--the terrified kind, not the joyful kind.

Some grabbed my legs and almost tripped me. (Fun fact: those ginormous head masks allow no peripheral vision. You can only see out from a 5 inch square directly in front of you. Luckily, the bookstore clerk figured this out quickly and wrapped an arm around me and led me forward before I could trample anyone.)

The signing went fairly well after the crying subsided.

I sat at a table, face hidden and sweating inside my ginormous head mask, and the kids lined up and thrust their books in front of my eye holes.

I nodded and chatted with them and signed

Love, Madeline.

In the storage room before putting on the ginormous mask

and surrounded by (possibly terrified) fans

Twenty three years later I will sign my actual name. Also, I will try not to trip over anyone.

Long Live Bookstores!

You’ve probably heard that bookstores are on the verge of going the way of the dodo. Someday we’ll be telling our grandkids about them. You see, there were these places that had shelves filled with books. And the books were made out of paper… The other day I was at a thrift shop with my kids. They simply could not get over the existence of typewriters. How do those keys work exactly? And what’s with the ribbon? Also they were enamored by the dialing phones. So, wait, you have to stick your finger in the hole and drag it all the way around? Geez. That would suck if your phone number had a bunch of 9s and 0s.

My husband and I felt like dinosaurs.

Yes, it’s true, children, bookstores used to be all the rage. And the bigger the store the better. When I lived in Memphis in the early ’90’s there were three warehoused-sized bookstores within a two-mile radius. That doesn’t count the local bookstore the chains were copying, the one I worked at when I was in grad school, Davis Kidd. (Now it’s called Booksellers at Laurelwood.) The first time I walked into that place I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The. Biggest. Bookstore. I. Had. Ever. Seen. 100,000 books. Comfy chairs. Cool artsy posters on the wall. It was The place to hang out.

All the workers were hip and brilliant and quirky, each one an expert in his or her area, so the history alcove was manned by a PhD student in history. And the math section was shelved by a math genius. The religion and philosophy guy gave me a tour on my first day of work. He waved his arm at the bibles then walked me around the alcove. Religious texts, world religions, philosophy, new age, satanic beliefs. “The bible thumpers end up back to back with the atheists,” he pointed out with a smirk. “And over here are the books on ESP. Funny, no one ever asks where this section is…” I cracked up and he stared at me like I was a flake. I was working on my MFA in poetry at the time so I was kind of a flake. Come to think of it, maybe I still am.

The section I was in charge of was romance. Since I only worked part-time, it was a good genre for me. Not much upkeep except making sure the rows of bodice rippers stayed in alphabetical order. The other clerks knew I hated romance novels and took every opportunity to mock me and my charges. One time the accomplished literary fiction guy led a customer my way. “She wants a recommendation, Jody,” he said, “from your romance section. I told her you were a total fan.”

I ignored that and asked the customer in my most polite, salesperson tone: “Would you like a book about a beautiful woman and a man who’s really handsome but kind of mean to her and they have all sorts of issues and then they realize they really love each other?”

“Oh, yes!” said the woman. “That sounds like a good one.”

With all the smart-aleck clerks looking on, I waved my hand at the entire romance section. “There it is,” I said. They probably should’ve fired me for that. In addition to being kind of flaky, I was snarky back then too.

Davis Kidd had an information desk in the middle of the store. We got the strangest questions at that desk:

“What’s a good place to eat Mexican food?”

“Um, I don’t know. But I’ll show you our selection of Mexican cookbooks.”

Or “Where can I buy white gloves?”

“Um.” I tried to show the customer the fashion and style books but she waved me off. No, she didn’t want a book about gloves, she wanted to know where to buy actual white gloves.

“Ma’am,” I said, “I have no idea. Maybe Macys?”

She glared at me then pointed at the sign over the desk. “That says information,” she said.

“Information for the store,” I told her. “Not information about life in general.”

I probably should’ve gotten fired for that too.

We weren’t allowed to read while we were on the clock. I guess that goes without saying. But sometimes I snuck away and hid in an alcove and read anyway. The fiction guy usually caught me but he was always nice about it. I bought tons of books the couple of years I worked at Davis Kidd. Many of them line the shelves in our house today, all alphabetized, of course, and by genre, just like in the store. My family used to tease me about that, but hey! It makes it easier to find what you’re looking for.

I don’t want bookstores to go away. I heard the author Ann Patchett talking on NPR a few weeks ago about Parnassus, the bookstore she just opened in Nashville. The big question was why she was taking such a risk—opening a bookstore, in this economy, when people aren’t even sure that books are going to be around much longer. Ann said while it’s true that the big bookstore model might not work anymore, she’s betting that there is still a market for smaller ones. Maybe things had gone a little over the top with cafés and selling non-book stuff like candles and expensive pens and designer purses.

She’s probably right. And I hope she’s right about her new bookstore. Because shouldn’t there still be a place where people who love to read can browse alongside other people who love to read? Where you can ask for information about whatever thoughts pop into your head? And where an old woman picking out a new bible has to brush past a biker flipping through a copy of The Anarchists Cookbook?