Saturday, October 17, 2009
So we've been cooking this up for awhile-- and though we're definitely not the first to tackle this, we did try and make this one as original as possible. Of course we couldn't avoid some obvious choices (Elvis Costello, but c'mon, that song is fantastic). We also didn't want this to look like we just went into our iTunes and searched for "book." It's definitely an eclectic mix, but hey, so are we. It's a generalist's mix. How about them apples?
Here's the tracklist. Click below to download in Zip file format (from zShare.net 55.23MB).
1. Bo Diddley, "You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover"
A classic. Not exactly related to reading, but you gotta admit this is kind of clever.
2. Scholastic Deth, "Bookstore Core"
I needed help finding obscure songs, so I turned to my greatest resource-- my fellow Green Applers. I asked Appler Jeff M. for assistance, and within seconds he recommended now-defunct hardcore group Scholastic Deth. The ending says it all: "Even if I had / All the time in the world / I doubt I could / Read all the books / That I should / Bookstore Core!"
3. Talking Heads, "The Book I Read"
4. Belle & Sebastian, "Wrapped Up In Books"
5. Echo & the Bunnymen, "Read It In Books"
6. Elvis Costello, "Everyday I Write the Book"
If this song comes on when I'm drinking, it gets pretty embarrassing. Same with the Misfits' "When Eagles Dare". Bad dance moves and fist pumping.
7. Last Emperor, "Secret Wars (Prince Paul Remix)"
The only hip-hop track in the bunch, "Secret Wars" takes its title from the Marvel Comics saga of the same name. But here rapper Last Emperor reimagines his favorite superheroes taking on legendary lyricists, and an epic war ensues. A must hear for Last Emperor's dead-on impressions. Comic books are books, too.
8. Bloodhag, "Iain M. Banks"
This one's from fellow Appler EH. Apparently this band screams about science fiction writers, they play shows in libraries, and pummel their fans with paperbacks during shows. HOW DID I MISS THESE GUYS? Good luck deciphering their lyrics.
9. Modest Mouse, "Bukowski"
I know, obvious. A good song, even if it does make us look like hipsters. I think it's too late for that.
10. Camera Obscura, "Books Written For Girls"
11. X, "Adult Books"
12. Magnetic Fields, "The Book of Love"
13. Seabear, "Libraries"
ENJOY! CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD! (there are ads all over this site. we don't take responsibility for them.)
Thursday, October 15, 2009
So Dog Days, Jeff Kinney's newest installment in his exceptionally funny Diary of a Wimpy Kid hit the shelves just a few days ago. Now I'm not a parent (fingers crossed), but if I were... oh man. There were a lot of ways for me to finish that sentence, and so few were any good. Lemme' start this over.
Read Diary of a Wimpy Kid. It doesn't even matter if you start with the first one, read any of them. They're clever, perfect for young readers, and quite honestly hilarious, even at an adult level. While capturing a bit of the mystery and confusion of youth, the true brilliance of Mr. Kinney's books lies in the portrayal of his characters. Gregory (the 'wimpy kid'), though he tries, doesn't always do the right thing but he does learn his lessons. His cohorts in the book, family, friends, teachers and schoolmates, are each uniquely fallible and fully human. All that being said, I honestly do think Diary of a Wimpy Kid really is destined to be a young adult classic.
Oh, and one final note: We got a boatload of Diary of a Wimpy kid temporary tattoos. So if your kid is already a fan, ask for some at the front register of our main store. Otherwise they are going to end up all over the Green Apple staff, and won't that look stupid.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Here's one reason that it's a joy to own a bookstore, particularly one that carries used books. I can show up for work one day, expecting our used Bullfighting section to be, within a book or two, the same size it was when I left for my weekend (3 books as of last week).
Then a nice lady comes in with two boxes of unusual Bullfighting books, and there it is: Green Apple has the best Bullfighting section in all of San Francisco. Or California. The West Coast? A search of Powells online showed 44 results, but they were not all really about Bullfighting.
So yeah, if anyone wants a book on Bullfighting, we have about 50 of them. Only a few are in Spanish. And that's another reason it's a joy to (co-)own my very own bookstore.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Shortly after laying the book down, what suddenly sprung to mind for me was what the first paragraph of the New York Times book review had said about Galchen's book. They had compared it to a 'joke' by writer/comedian Steven Wright that goes (and I'm paraphrasing as best I can now) something like this-
“I woke up this morning and everything in the apartment had been stolen and replaced with an exact replica. I said to my roommate, ‘Can you believe this? Everything in the apartment has been stolen and replaced with an exact replica.’ He looked at me and said, ‘Do I know you?’ ”
I'm a big fan of Steven Wright. In fact he's one of the few comedians I really have any interest in. In my opinion he's one of the only that brings more than just cheap laffs to the stage. I highly recommend seeking out his short films (One Soldier & The Appointments of Dennis Jennings). I hopped on my computer last night to do a bit of searching myself, and so, in the spirit of all this, this talk of Galchen, Wright, what I think of as products of a whimsically curious school of thought here's this:
The Beach by Steven Wright
Originally Published in Rolling Stone Magazine - Summer 1986
THIS IS A STORY ABOUT THE BEACH.
I, Phillip, a small boy of twelve, lay exhausted, not knowing if I was sleeping or if I was daydreaming that I was sleeping. Gently I rocked back in forth in my hammock, a hammock woven out of the eyelashes of 1000 deer. There was always a gentle breeze at the top of the 300-foot stainless-steel trees where my hammock was located. All the trees were stainless-steel in the Shiny National Forest. Some of the trees had been sawed down and cut into 60-foot lengths, then sold as flagpoles to people who lived in reality, many, many years away. I had never worked so hard in my life as in these past few hours. My clothes proved that I had labored, stained with confusion, compliments and criticism, all things that are not machine washable.
I was living on Water Island. A small island, sizewise. The island had no shore. All islands are above sea level, but this was ridiculous. The entire land mass was 200 feet above the ocean. All sand. Not one human had ever been near the water. And why the hell should they? You don't see fish trying to get on the roofs of buildings.
The year was a very long time ago. The island was ruled by a king. King Sammy. King Sammy lived in the Great Formica Castle, located at the bottom of Sand Valley. The king experienced temporary insanity every day. The Formica grew wild. There was much Formica left over after the castle was completed. The extra Formica would be sold to people who lived in reality, many, many years away. Nobody ever imagined that parts of King Sammy's castle would end up in kitchens.
The king was the king because he controlled gravity. That was the only reason he was king. Which was good enough when you think about it. If he didn't like you for any reason, he would snap his fingers and you would float higher and higher until he snapped them again and you would stay at that height forever or until he brought you back down again, maybe.
People were living at different heights all over the place. The people the king hated the most were very high up in the sky, sitting on stainless-steel chairs. The people who who lived in reality, many, many years away, would look into the sky and invent the word "star." They would also invent the word "shooting star," which was actually a person on a chair that the king was moving to another position.
The reason I lived in a hammock at 300 feet was I was a waiter at the castle, and one night, entranced by the beauty of the king's niece, I accidentally served soup on flat dishes. I smiled at the young girl, the king snapped his fingers, and I went up through a skylight and have been living at 300 feet ever since. I overtook Styrofoam Canyon.
To please King Sammy and again live on the ground was indeed my goal. I was notified of my chance to do this one day at about an hour before the beginning of time. A bird flew to my hammock delivering a small letter. An invitation to possible fate. It was from the king himself. It said, "Dear Phillip: As you know, this year I will be celebrating my birthday on August 11th. If you can arrange a unique festival I will again allow you to live on the ground or at least at eye level and maybe date my niece, Princess Sammintine. I know your great-great-grandfather invented socializing. That is why I'm giving you this chance. If not, I'm sure you will be reaching further heights. Sincerely, King Sammy."
Actually my great-great-grandfather was really a hermit and invented socializing just as a joke.
So here was my chance to redeem myself and live on the ground again. I decided I would go to sleep and dream about what to do. Often I would wave goodbye when I went to sleep. As a small boy I would sometimes sleep with my eyes open so all my dreams would take place in my room. It was raining. There was a great rainbow. Rainbows over Water Island were made of a light plastic.
I was standing on a cliff looking out into the great ocean. The ocean was called Land Ocean. Just then a herd of deer ran by. None of them had eyelashes.
The water was beautiful. The king loved water. Hmmm hmm. The king was very fond of water, to the point where he installed a pool that surrounded the entire castle. Other kings would later copy this idea.
King Sammy could not swim. People who were great swimmers were despised by the king and forced to live on twelve-foot chairs. My dream then switched to housekeeping, which startled me awake.
Yes, yes, the king loved water. If only Water Island had a shore.
I began to work. I got rid of the sand the only way I knew how, I vacuumed it. Night and day I vacuumed until the sand on Water Island got lower and lower, closer to the ocean. Inadvertently, I was inventing the beach.
It was the night of August 10th. I needed much help. So I hired hundreds of small children to help remove the sand. I gave them little plastic buckets and little plastic shovels. The children removed tons of sand. They worked very hard, although they thought they were playing.
Soon the land was level with the water. An unusually beautiful sight to see for the first time: the shore, the beach. I walked up and down this peaceful area trying to avoid the broken glass.
I wrote a letter to King Sammy. "Dear King Sammy: Meet me where I'm going to be. Sincerely, Phillip."
I then prepared the festival. I brought loads of food and ale packed in boxes that were built in the Styrofoam Canyon. I brought small, horizontal fireplaces that stood on little legs. I hired a group of minstrels who could only play music too loud.
Fate lessons of the past and present were now in session. Tradition was about to begin. King Sammy arrived at the beach with fifteen court jesters, his wife, Edna, Princess Sammintine, and several other men and women who were walking around at different heights. Some of them he really didn't like and made them arrive in their underwear. People in reality would do this willingly, many, many years away.
The minstrels began to play. The king danced with the waves. I danced with the shadow of the king, and the idea of Princess Sammintine kissed the back of my memory of the events that took place.
We drank until we almost drowned on land.
A seventy-two-year-old childhood friend of the king cut the plastic rainbows into circles and filled them with air to create colorful bouncing balls. As the king snapped his fingers to the music, people were flying up and down all over the beach. The children with plastic buckets were now heavily into the construction of little castles made of sand, so the king would feel at home.
The more the king drank, the more he liked the people, and the more he liked the people, the lower they were to the ground.
Soon people were actually lying down on little cotton flags all over the beach.
I invited a few of the great swimmers on twelve-foot chairs. The king ordered them to stay in their chairs unless someone was drowning. They wore bright orange shorts.
I had a waterproof pen. The ocean was very calm. The king wanted bigger waves. So I drew huge waves on the ocean. The ships didn't understand.
As the madness continued, I made my way over to Princess Sammintine. I asked her if she wanted a massage. She said, "Yes, but not physically." I said, "How do you like the beach?" She said, "Well, it's kind of sandy." I apologized for the beach's being sandy. Then I said, "Will you marry me?" She said, "No, you're boring, and besides I've seen fatter legs on a bird."
I smiled at Princess Sammintine and accidentally served clam chowder on flat dishes. The king snapped his fingers, and I went up 300 feet onto my hammock in the sky.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
My most recent free bin gem was a pocketbook copy of Nobel Prize winner Isaac Bashevis Singer's Gimpel the Fool & Other Stories, translated by Saul Bellow in 1953 (thanks to AeRi for finding it actually). The edition I found is a pretty unique one I think. I couldn't find a picture of it online, so the version I posted above will have to do. The book itself depicts a poor, but smiling middle aged man holding a leaf between his fingers, has rounded corners and no description of its contents but a quote from Henry Miller on the back. I read and enjoyed it in the same evening that I came across the book, and shortly after found myself reading on both Singer's life and further critique of the stories themselves. I even dug up an animated version of the titular story made in the early 90s by a guy named Ezra Schwartz. Not a bad evening of entertainment, especially for the price.