Now excuse me while I go spend several hours figuring out what to wear to my reading at Vroman’s Bookstore this afternoon (at 5 pm, if you live near Pasadena and are interested).  I’m bummed I didn’t make the best-dressed list this year, so I’m upping my game in the hopes of taking Jane Austen’s spot next year.  Maybe if I wear my new zipper-rose high heeled shoes to this thing . . .

Oh, fine, since you asked, here’s a photo of them, taking by my friend Dawn.

Nice, right?

My favorite line?  ”Is that your blood?”  ”Oh . . . yes, some of it.”

I feel fairly certain Jane would have loved this.

Every once in a while–say every five or ten years–I read a short story that blows me away. I still remember mulling over O’Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi” and Maupassant’s “The Necklace” (the MOST agonizing story ever written) as a fairly young kid, and Hemingway’s “The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber” when I was a bit older, moving on and up through O’Connor’s “Everything That Rises Must Converge,” Shaw’s “The Girls in Their Summer Dresses,” and Olsen’s “Tell Me a Riddle” (which is arguably more novella than short story).

But nothing in recent years has blown me away like the two stories I just read, both by Nathan Englander.

”Free Fruit for Young Widows” was my first exposure to him.  I’d never even heard of Englander before, but I stumbled across this short story in The New Yorker. (You can still read it online on their website.)  I thought it was incredible, so I checked Englander’s short story collection For the Relief of Unbearable Urges out of the library.

The whole collection is worth reading but the first story, “The Twenty-Seventh Man” is simply one of the best things I’ve ever read in my life. Period. It’s compassionate, harrowing, funny, poignant, horrifying . . . all in a few pages. And should be taught in every high school in this country. (An aside: there’s a character in it who has autism–at least I think he does; it’s not stated–and it was the most original, compassionate portrayal of autism I’ve seen since Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time.)

I’ve recommended these two Englander short stories to a bunch of people, ranging from Kim (who reads everything) to my father (who’s in his eighties) to my brother (who mostly reads scientific articles) and everyone has said it’s simply one of the best things he or she has ever read.

I don’t gush about a lot of modern writers, as anyone who reads these pages knows.  I was an English major in college, reading Dickens, Austen, Bronte and the like.  Most modern literature leaves me cold.  I don’t find the stories exciting or the people engaging.  It feels like the majority of short stories I read fall into the same pattern: a description of someone leading your basic life of quiet desperation, somewhat alienated from the people around him, with lots dialogue and details that sum up the meaninglessness of our daily pursuits, and a minor emotional epiphany at the end that leads to precisely nowhere.

But Englander tells a real story and he tells it like no one else.  His stories aren’t “familiar” but they are page-turners.  Frankly, I don’t need to recognize the boring, soul-sucking details of my own daily life in the stories I read: I’d much rather recognize something huge and painful about the way people torture and also love one another, about how compassion is the only healing force in the face of cruelty, about how parents can and should teach their children that, and about how we shouldn’t judge anyone until we know what his life has been.

Englander’s stories remind me of a beautiful and poignant quote from Olsen’s Tell Me a Riddle:

“Heritage.  How have we come from our savage past, how no longer to be savages–this to teach.  To look back and learn what humanizes–this to teach.  To smash all ghettos that divide us–not to go back, not to go back–this to teach.”

This is what Englander teaches.  Only he does it in the best way possible: by writing a story you can’t put down.

I love to read, but sometimes it’s a drag going to the big bookstores. I love the quaint feel of smaller local store so much more. I live in Raleigh, NC and we have some incredible stores. You get a lot more help and personal attention I feel. Also, in smaller stores, they tend to have rare and older used books which on their own have charm and a cheaper price

Here are a few of my reviews on some in my area.

Dancing Moon is a really sweet store. What’s great about this store is that they also have a great audio and video selection. Its a pretty cool store because they also offer spiritual healing and massage by appointment. They have rooms for rent for book clubs and classroom type environment. It has an amazing vibe and excellent selection.

My second recommendation is Quail Ridge Books and Music. Again, it’s an amazing store but what’s different about this store is that they also host events and bring in different authors, artists, and speakers. This is great if you want that small town feel of sitting at a warm bookstore and hearing your favorite author speak. Not to mention that on occasion they have wine tasting. LOVE IT!

Now, if your looking for textbooks I have the place for you. It can get super expensive if you go to a bigger chain and most of them don’t have exactly what you need.  So for this I will recommend two of them. First is Edward Mckay Used Books with four locations in North Carolina. They have a huge selection of text books and the prices are more then reasonable.  Another great store for textbooks is Hillsborough Street Textbooks. Great store and they have extended fall semester hours and are very helpful.

Alexis Bonari is a freelance writer and blog junkie. She is currently a resident blogger at First in Education, researching areas of online education. In her spare time, she enjoys square-foot gardening, swimming, and avoiding her laptop.

These are put out by the Second City Theater Company which has several different bases around the country.  The premise of these particular comedy bits is that Shakespeare’s tragic heroines would have been saved their awful fates if they’d only had a sassy gay friend–which I think is a pretty kick-ass premise and, as you’ll see in the following sketches, absolutely dead on.

I want a sassy gay friend.

Warning: the language is adult in these and so is some of the content.  If you’re easily offended or like your Shakespeare unadulterated, please don’t watch.  Otherwise, enjoy!

And then I visited my son in Iowa City.

The University of Iowa has a world famous writers’ workshop, a two-year program that culminates in a Master’s of Fine Arts.  It’s spawned a ton of famous authors, including John Irving and Jane Smiley.  Earlier this year, I discovered that they also have a summer high school program.  My son applied, got in, went for two weeks, and needed to be picked up at the beginning of July.  My husband had already made plans to get him (and to spend the weekend with him in Chicago).  I suddenly realized I wanted to go too.  An extra plane ticket was purchased, my son was left in the dark so I could surprise him, and the next thing I knew I was popping a Sonata on a red-eye and waking up in Chicago.

We drove the four hours to Iowa City.  It was appropriately hot but not too hot (I was told we were lucky in that last part).  After we’d greeted our son and met some of the faculty and students, Johnny suggested we walk into town so he could show us his favorite coffee shop.

Now, you have to understand that the bulk of my writing has always been done in coffee shops.  Mostly Starbucks because there’s one every two feet on the west side of LA and they let you sit as long as you want.  But I’ve always yearned for something a little warmer, a little quirkier, a little more historical.

The Java House is the coffee shop of my dreams.  Johnny knew it too.  As we walked in, he said, “You have to see the back room, Mom.  You would so kill to work there.”  He was right. I would.  You buy your coffee up front, each cup brewed fresh to order in individual mugs set under pictures of famous authors who studied or worked in Iowa, so the barrista can just tell you, “Number three: Ann Patchett” or whatever.  Then you grab your coffee when the mug is full.

Anyway, we got our drinks and Johnny led us toward the back room and gestured through the doorway.  I gazed. I looked.  I sighed.  I murmured a heartfelt, “I wish I had my laptop!”  I could have settled in there for the rest of the weekend.  It was dark and cozy, but surprisingly large, with tons of wooden tables and good chairs.  Everyone in there was writing.  Everyone.  There were more MacBooks than at an Apple Store.  It felt like Home.

But we were only in Iowa for an hour or so, so we stayed just long enough to drink the excellent coffee (Johnny had something more exotic–some kind of fizzy almond drink, if I remember correctly).  There was one more place I wanted to go before we left the pretty little downtown and that, of course, was a bookstore.

Prairie Lights is an Important Bookstore because of its proximity to the University of Iowa and all the famous and brilliant authors who come there to speak or teach.  It is, as you’d suspect, largely dedicated to fiction.  It’s a beautiful store, several stories high, welcoming and airy.  Nothing is crammed in.  There’s space for each book to be displayed, found, leafed through.  They have their own coffee shop–not that we had any bladder space left for more coffee at that point–and plenty of room to host readings and lectures which they do on a regular basis.   Check out the Live from Prairie Lights series, which you can watch streamed live on the ‘net if you don’t have the good luck to go to Iowa.

All this within a one block radius.   You can see why I was ready to pack up and move to Iowa City.  I’m having a little bit of trouble convincing Rob he should quit his job and uproot the whole family for the sake of a coffee shop and bookstore, but I’ll keep working on it.   Kim understands, don’t you, Kim?

Prairie Lights

15 South Dubuque St.

Iowa City, IA 52240

319-337-2681

800-295-BOOK

The Java House

150 Stevens Drive, Iowa City, IA

t: 319.354.2111 ext. 105; f: 319.354.7314

On the other hand, he brought this clip to my attention.  Admittedly it’s about writing, not about bookstores, but I defy you not to laugh.  Watch it two or three times.  I’ve seen it like ten times and it still cracks me up.

It speaks to a basic human truth: we’re all working on our novels, aren’t we?

Note: I can’t get it to embed–rats.  I’ll keep working on it, but until then, click on this link if you want a smile to send you happily off into what I hope is a wonderful summer weekend!

Wait, maybe this will work (thanks, Kim).

(You may wonder why a 12-year-old girl was invited to a baby shower.  It’s not a teen pregnancy thing.  It’s just that Annie’s social life is always busier and more interesting than mine.  I’ve stopped questioning it.)

So there I am, panicking a little, trying to think of what stores are nearby . . . and then I think, “Oh, wait.  The bookstore!”  I run over to my all-time favorite local Indie, Village Books in the Pacific Palisades, and I head to the back to the children’s corner.  Katie O’Laughlin, who owns the store, once told me that picture books are one of the few things that e-books can’t compete with, so it’s something small bookstores like to keep a good stock of.

I wanted this present to be special since it was coming from Annie, and then it hit me: I should pick out the picture books that meant something to her when she was little (which feels like a minute ago and an eternity ago), the ones that she and I read over and over together because they meant something to us, or just brought us both so much pleasure we never stopped enjoying them.

The second I spotted Wemberly Worried by Kevin Henkes, it was in my arms.  Both my daughter and I are natural worriers.  We don’t face any new situation without fretting about the various things that might go wrong, the people who might not be friendly, the parking spaces that might not materialize, the food that might not be good . . .  I love that book because it acknowledges that not all kids are carefree and lighthearted.  That was an easy one.

"Our" book

I was tempted to get one of Ian Falconer’s Olivia books because we loved those so much, especially the first one. The drawings and the text are just perfect.  But they’ve become so hugely popular that I worried a little she might already have gotten them.  While I was trying to decide, my son came up and handed me Ferdinand the Bull.  ”You have to give her this,” he said.  ”It’s our story.”  (Ferdinand, for those who don’t remember, is the bull who would rather pick daisies than act like the other bulls.  And, yes, it is our story,)

I also got Jules Feiffer’s I Lost My Bear which is maybe the most fun book to read out loud ever, because the narrator/protagonist is wildly over the top emotional as she searches for her lost teddy bear.  It’s a fun, fun book and I’ve always loved pretty much anything Feiffer’s ever done, for kids or adults.

My memory being what it is, I can’t remember for sure but I think I also got another Kevin Henkes, Sheila Rae the Brave, because that was a real favorite of Annie’s.  So was Lily’s Purple Plastic Purse and Julius the Baby of the World.  Basically you can’t go wrong with Kevin Henkes.

I couldn’t buy every favorite book because there wasn’t money, time or world enough, and I won’t bore you by listing them.  But if you’re a mom or a dad, the next time you need to get a great baby shower gift, think about picking out your own kid’s favorite picture books and writing a little note about why each one was special to him or her.  Even better, take your kid along and let him pick the books out and dictate or write the note himself.   I can’t think of anything more special or more likely to get used over and over again.

Plus it gives you an excuse to go to the bookstore.  And we all like to do that.

Great minds think alike: Kim just reminded me she’s written about her own favorite baby shower book choices.  Check out her top picks.

This weekend, the Advocacy Lab in NYC is having a fundraising bookfair through Barnes & Noble. The Advocacy Lab’s mission is to empower youth to take action for human rights.

Partnering with teachers in under-resourced New York City high schools, AdLab provides in-class human rights education and creative advocacy skills training at least once a week over the course of the school year. AdLab’s grassroots program prepares students with the knowledge, tools, and confidence, to create positive social change in their communities and in the world. To help out, simply order your summer reading here this weekend and use AdLab’s code when you check out: 10234276. If you’re in NYC, you can pick up a voucher at the Warren Street store in Lower Manhattan all weekend.

To learn more about the Advocacy Lab, click here.