I was probably asleep at the wheel in years past, but I think it’s really cool that Publishers Weekly announced the names of the five finalists for 2014 Bookstore of the Year.
Here’s the list of the finalists with some commentary on why they should win:
Do you have any idea how many Open Letter books are on display in this store? Pets (in multiple places), High Tide (a staff favorite), and Elsewhere, were three of the first books I noticed when I walked in there last week. If Elliott Bay takes it, I think it’s because of the “More Open Letter Books = Great Store” hypothesis. Also, they get bonus points for being “The” Elliot Bay Book Company.
I’ve never been to McLean & Eakin, but as a Michigander, I spent a week every year from K through 5th Grade polishing Petoskey stones. So smooth and pretty! Given that Petoskey has a population of under 6,000 (although they do attract the tourists!), it would be kind of cool for McLean & Eakin to win. The real question: How many Open Letter books do they have already? I think they better stock up.
Prairie Lights is pretty much the only thing that people from the University of Iowa talk about. I’m pretty sure Iowa City consists of a river, this bookstore, and a bunch of mediocre football players. (GO MICHIGAN STATE!) It’s almost unfair that this city gets such a fantastic bookstore. Paul Ingram is wonderful to talk to (and my height, which is always a bonus), and this store is the quintessential charming small-town bookstore. They very well could win this.
Women & Children First is helping sell books at an upcoming Open Letter/Black Balloon event celebrating Bulgarian literature—for that alone, they’re probably going to receive this award. But seriously, this is a great store that does what it does better than any store in the country, and has succeeded for years. When I was working for Dalkey, one of my favorite buyers to visit was at WCF . . . She’s since left the store, but I’ll forever respect the hell out of this place.
The winning store will be announced by PW just before BEA, and will be featured in the pre-BEA issue.
This isn’t exactly how I pitched Vilnius Poker when we released it, but, well, this trailer is a stylized, frightening representation of one of our most popular titles.
We had nothing to do with this, which, in a way, makes it even cooler to find it online . . . Apparently this was put together by the fine folks from Books from Lithuania, who have now released a couple of book videos.
I’m never sure off the effectiveness of these sorts of things, but when I started watching this late Saturday night, I double-checked my door locks when it got to the line: She’s fascinated by the smell of the concentration camp that has permeated his body.
Ironically, this Lithuanian novel, which was translated by the award-winning Elizabeth Novickas, was also featured in another video—one that also emphasizes the “Lithanian zombie” aspect, but with a totally different tone:
Oh boy, this should be fun. Over the next 10 days, Green Apple Books will be posting short-format, tongue-in-cheek (and maybe a bit over-the-top) videos pitting the Book against The Kindle. Here’s the first one:
Well, hopefully. It might take another day to get back in the swing of things, but I am back and will be writing a couple reviews this week, featuring July’s store of the month, etc., etc. (And finally replying to e-mails, in case you’re waiting for a response . . .)
Green Apple is a damn cool store, and their “Book of the Month Videos” are a pretty innovative and fun. Here’s the most recent one for Werner Herzog’s Conquest of the Useless: Reflections on the Making of Fitzcarraldo:
My old college roommate was the first person to tell me about the general greatness of Green Apple Books, and it’s nice to see the store so wonderfully profiled in Maud Newton’s series on independent bookstores.
Upon completing Albertine Sarrazin’s Astragal I was left to wonder why it ever fell from print. Aside from the location, Astragal could pass as the great American novel. Its edginess and rawness capture the angst and desires we all had. . .
When my eyes first crossed the back cover of Fabio Genovesi’s novel Live Bait, I was caught by a blurb nestled between accolades, a few words from a reviewer for La Repubblica stating that the novel was, however magically, “[b]eyond. . .
“I preferred the war to the plague,” writes Curzio Malaparte in his 1949 novel, The Skin. He speaks of World War II and the destruction it has wrought on Italy, the city of Naples in particular. But the plague he. . .
With the steady rise of feminist scholarship and criticism in recent decades, it is little wonder that the work of Louise Labé should be attracting, as Richard Sieburth tells us in the Afterword to his translation, a “wide and thriving”. . .
In Conversations, we find ourselves again in the protagonist’s conscious and subconscious, which is mostly likely that of Mr. César Aira and consistent with prototypical Aira style. This style never fails because each time Aira is able to develop a. . .
You are not ashamed of what you do, but of what they see you do. Without realizing it, life can be an accumulation of secrets that permeates every last minute of our routine . . .
The narrative history of. . .
Literature in translation often comes with a certain pedigree. In this little corner of the world, with so few books making it into this comforting nook, it is often those of the highest quality that cross through, and attention is. . .