I had no idea what I was doing when I opened a small, independent bookstore three and a half years ago. I also had no idea that I had no idea. A startling worldwide pandemic swooped in six months later, disabusing me of the notion that I understood anything about, well, anything. Seemed like as... Continue Reading →
I made a new friend. At work. Because owning a bookstore means my new friends come to me. I’m lucky that way. Anyway, this new friend, she’s smart. And a lot silly. She likes books. And she wears cooler clothes than me, which I find funky, inspiring, and (surprisingly) not threatening. She’s younger than me,... Continue Reading →
Nah, that's not right. But read on for two reviews of outstanding new books. A Review of Lucky Red (Claudia Cravens) Released on June 20, 2023 Support Bookish & Preorder on Bookshop Lucky Red by Claudia Cravens helped me linger in that cow(girl) state of mind originally inspired by Yellowstone–then continuously fed by a whole... Continue Reading →
I didn’t like group projects when I was in school. This is a surprise to exactly no one who knows me. I’m happy to be around a group of people. But working with people? Collaboratively? No, thank you. I can do this on my own. But owning a small business has disabused me of many... Continue Reading →
Sharp pain behind my right eye. Throbbing brain. A vortex of omnipresent pain. A doorbell chimed vaguely in the background. A customer appeared. Black. Queer. Immigrant. That trifecta, people thought, was the worst possible hand, he said. But he identified privilege in the knowledge that he could chart his own path, could see a future... Continue Reading →
If my goal is to be an antiracist—not just as a badge I stick on my person for a nod & a smile from other white liberals but as a way of being that goes to the core not only of my actions but my beliefs and my ideas/thoughts—I’m going to be wrong a lot. A whole hell of a lot.
Walking into the Scholastic Book Fair as a kid made me tingle with anticipation. All those Apple paperbacks lined up just so, each of them a whole little world contained in its pages. And then there were the scented erasers, which I collected like trading cards but refused to use. Ever. At 9 years old,... Continue Reading →
One of the greatest joys of being sober is doing shit you never even dreamed of... I didn't have such a great imagination when I was drinking. Sure, I could sit on a barstool & tell you I was going to run a marathon the year I turned 30 (even though I'd never run more... Continue Reading →
I suck at small talk. It's taken me a long time to reckon with that truth. But there it is. I love people, though. I think they're endlessly fascinating. But only if they're telling me about things that mean something to them. This made me ill-suited for office potlucks. But uniquely suited to own a... Continue Reading →
I've been thinking a lot about place lately: how where we are from constructs who we are. And I've been drawn to books that explore place as internal landscape. My mother's family is from South Georgia. Although I grew up in Florida, I always considered myself a dis-placed Southerner. According to my Northern oriented friends,... Continue Reading →
