Garrison Keillor TONIGHT

A few years ago I quit my job in publishing and my husband and I moved to Cape Cod so I could pursue writing. The house, which was more of a cottage, was really only meant to be lived in during the summer. It was set back from a road that led to a beach, the driveway lined by old unkempt trees that were choked up the trunks by vines. My husband would leave at 5am to commute to Boston every day and it was just the dog and I, alone in this house up on a hill. It sounds idyllic, I know, but early on I had no friends in the area, and didn't yet have a job. The first morning alone I sat down at my writing desk a bit stunned.

It was at this time, when I was feeling the most vulnerable and lonesome, that I began religiously reading The Writer's Almanac. It waited for me every morning, the first item in my inbox, the message in it simple: a reprint of a poem, a list of the birthdays and bios of writers and artists. I'd skim the birthdays first, taking comfort in the gnarled paths of famous writers, and then I would read the poem. After the first couple of emails I saw that I could click on listen instead, and so I did, and out from my email came Garrison Keillor's voice, syrupy and luxurious and patient, reading aloud to me. Those quiet mornings, Garrison Keillor's voice would echo throughout the house; sometimes, he'd be the only other voice I'd hear that day until late that night, when my husband came home from work. Garrison's storytelling voice would then follow me to the page, narrating the words I put down, letting me trick myself into believing that what I was writing was indeed a story. I owe many rough drafts to that voice. 

Tonight Garrison Keillor will be at the store, on tour for his new book The Keillor Reader. I imagine many will have a similar story that they'll want to share with Garrison when they get to meet him in the signing line. That is the power of oral storytelling, of radio, really. Books are portable, your imagination's physical companion, but radio voices become part of your family, sharing the space of your home or car. Tonight his reading will be hooked up to speakers throughout the store. I'm helping out with the event but I know I'll be tempted to go upstairs and quietly shelve some books in my section, in my home away from home, as I listen to the voice that kept me company so long ago. 

Ridiculously, Ridiculously Good

Each person here is ridiculously, ridiculously good at something. We each have our own speciality, possessing an encyclopedic knowledge about nearly every topic or format in the store including but not limited to: small press releases, penguins, math, Finnish authors, travel, dramatic YA books, elephants, French flaps.  Because of this knowledge, we can make some really, really good recommendations.

This is really all an excuse for me to tell you about my specialty, which is events.  Straight-up events.  If you're interested in something, anything! I can conjure up an event you might like.

Do you work during the weekday and wish you could go to a weekend story time with your kids? 
On Saturday, January 19th at 10:30, the vocally brilliant and vibrant Tess will be hosting our monthly children's story time right underneath the tree in our kids section.  If you want more stories (who doesn't want more stories?), come back on Sunday, January 20th at 2pm when local publisher Pinwheel Books brings by a few of their picture book authors for their 2nd annual story showcase.

Do you wish you could go to a Saturday night séance held by Ian Svenonius while a DJ is playing?
Yes. 
Follow-up question, are you free January 26?
Your answer has to be yes, otherwise I'm going to have to do the Charlie Brown walk across Coolidge Corner traffic.  Please say yes. 

Do you like books, history, and alcohol, in addition to being old enough to legally enter a bar?
We're having a Prohibition-themed party the night of January 20th at the Regal Beagle for Stephanie Schorow's book, Drinking Boston.  For a $35 ticket, you'll get a signed copy of the book, hors d'oeuvres, and two complimentary beverages.  It's in conjunction with Union Park Press and Bully Boy Distillery, so you know it'll be a good time.

Are you a teen who likes John Green?
No, he's not coming to sign books (YET.  It's one of my life missions to get him to read here, which would be an interesting sight due to my slightly feverish fangirl crush on him which would probably lead to an episode involving hyperventilating, no biggie, I'M COOL).  I am, however, starting a Young Adult Book Club for teens ages 12-18.  Instead of choosing just one book, we're going to talk about any of John Green's works.  Love Looking for Alaska?  Did you cry at The Fault in Our Stars? Come by, we'll talk about our favorite John Green books and choose what we'll read for next month. This starts Monday, January 14 at 5pm.

I could go on for hours about upcoming events, but I'll pause here.  We have so many great authors coming in this month, so take a look at our calendar or ask me for a recommendation in the comments field.

No Sleep Till [...?]

I have never been what I would call a "good" sleeper. I'm not bad, I can usually fall asleep eventually, I don't sleep great with other people in the bed, or in an unusual place, etc. A lifetime of living city-adjacent has made my brain averse to the deep-quiet; unless there's a hum of traffic or an electric fan, I can have trouble dropping off. What is happening out there!? What kind of red-eyed murderers are stirring among the cicadas and the night crawlers!?!

My parents, however, have considerably weirder sleeping habits. For as long as I can remember and as long as I have been alive my parents have been night workers. My stepmother is a nurse and my Dad is a respiratory therapist, and both of them prefer the less high maintenance nighttime shift over the hectic, stressful day time. Even here, at the book store, a definite change in tone occurs when the sun sets. Things take on a different weight as darkness sets.

But decades of 12 hour night shifts and sleeping during the day has permanently ruined my parents' sleeping cycles. Its not unusual that I will get a text from my stepmother at 3 in the morning about the 20th episode of Parks and Recreation she just watched. My Dad can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but it's staying asleep, or getting into real REM sleep, that he has trouble achieving. Their bedroom is a dark cave of silence; the windows are boarded up with cardboard to keep out light, and soundproofed as best they can be to protect against erstwhile barking of woefully abandoned apartment dogs and the psychosis inducing, ever changing pitch of the leaf blower, the lawnmower, the various implements of a mind lost to gardening.

It was the artwork that made me pause in front of this book while I was walking through Children's the other day. The detailed, dark art in a children's setting reminded me of several things, including but not limited to Coraline, The Gashlycrumb Tinies, and the cover art of the "A Series of Unfortunate Events" books, drawn by Brett Helquist.

Once intrigued, I flipped through the book itself and found out, lo and behold, that it's about a family that becomes nocturnal after moving their home to another part of the world. The family discovers first that they are unable to adjust to a new time zone, and then, subsequently, that they don't want to. They prefer the night time, and all the secret features it holds.

When I was in LA last summer, I saw the Tim Burton show that was happening at the LACMA, and he's a very interesting guy in many ways, but the characters in this book reminded me of his art in many ways. The appearance of small, dark, unusually shaped characters with key peculiarities that somehow decide to stop (or never start) fighting their nature and go against the grain.

I prefer children's books that have a bit of an edge to them, and I always have, even when I was a kid. Picture books like "The Stinky Cheese Man" (and anything by Jon Sciekza) and "The Girl who Cried Rose Petals" (now long out of print but about, you guessed it, a girl who cries rose petals) always held so much more allure than the other picture books. There's something about the juxtaposition of something bizarre and quirky in a world that generally veers towards the safe, the reassuring, the cloyingly happily ended. I'm not saying that's not what kid's books shouldn't be, or what childhood shouldn't include - I'm just saying that, when I was a youngster, I was more interested in the version of Cinderella where the wicked stepsisters get their toes cut off. Although, come to think of it, I was recommended for therapy by every single one of my elementary and middle school teachers until like 7th grade.

But, you guys, I'm pretty sure the crazy begat the picture books, not the other way around. Actually, compared to some of the other literature available, The Insomniacs is pretty tame. Really, the other thing odd about the protagonist family is that they prefer to stay up all night. They're not even doing anything truly weird, like sewing a fourth family member together out of parts or trying to resurrect grandma - the little girl even attends school, remotely via webcam. The book is very sweet and interesting and has great art, and, if you read it and like it, the Brothers Hilts are coming to Booksmith for a book signing event this very September! So stop in, check out the book, and come to the event because those are all the best  things to do.

But before you do that, check out this webpage of terrifying French children's books, and then you get back to me before you start calling me "Spooky Mulder", okay!? JEEPERS