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28 november 2000

encore, books!

Now I'm not much of a pack-rat, except with a few items. I save greeting cards and mail from friends and family. I collect nifty doodads, postcards and publications that I've acquired throughout my travels. Pez dispensers and ViewMaster reels make me happy. But nothing makes me happier than coming home and seeing my books lined up on the shelves, stacked on the floor of my den, and sometimes placed in impossible spaces like well-loved strays

It was time, however, for some of them go. The thing is, I packed up some of the best books I've ever read. Novels like Geek Love (highly recommended), some still-current computer and programming books, and even a few selections from college that I am finally comfortable purging from my life. Being as I had read all of the books I packed, I didn't feel quite as guilty over their departure. A few held minor sentimental value, but not enough to override my idea that someone else should enjoy them now.

This was hardly a pull-and-toss operation. When I say I went through each book, I mean that's exactly what I did -- flipped the pages of each and every one of them. I found all sorts of goodies: copies of poems I'd written that I swore were lost forever, letters and cards, even money! (Just a couple of one-dollar bills being used as bookmarkers, but still...money!)

So I got to my shelves of signed, first-edition, or otherwise collectible books. And even though I knew I wasn't about to get rid of them, it was nice to sit with them for awhile. These included the couple of hundred poetry chapbooks I've collected over the years from my friends. I re-read some books I hadn't picked up in a long time, like Danny Solis's collection, The Other Thing, Gary Glazner's Animal Tongues, and about six different books by Jason Pettus. Jason, when did you give me all of these? Sheesh, be MY distributor. Having these books around makes me happy. They're a good reminder that I've got a pile of talented friends, and I carry them with me everywhere. This week, I've been carrying around Gabrielle's and Shann's books for a sneaky read here and there. It's a good way to get through the day.

And then there are the books that make me feel all gentry-like. I have a few very old copies of How Green Was My Valley that I started accumulating when I realized that it went out of print and was nearly impossible to get. My first-edition Norman Mailer book is a gem. Frank McCourt signed my copy of Angela's Ashes the day he won the Pulitzer, when I was up in NYC for a performance. I even ran out one day when I lived in Chicago, to a Jerry Springer book-signing. Yeah, the book is stupid. But future generations will get a good giggle out of it.

Phooey on sophistication.

I didn't feel too badly once the store had calculated my credits --- enough to walk out of the store with four Charles Bukowski volumes, Primal Myths (a book Fred Chappell recommended to me awhile back), and the Norton Anthology of Native American Poetry. And I didn't even use half of my credits! Used bookstores rock. They're like good foster homes, where only the best parents come to take children home. The coolest part of the whole day, though, was when the sales clerk looked me square in the face and said very seriously, "you know, we really need more poetry books."

Well, yeah. Don't we all?