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Moving on up

 

A quick note to customers of Cornellbooksellers.com: our catalogs and listings will be offline for the rest of the month of June due to the fact that we are moving the Cornellbooksellers.com world headquarters from our current downtown Ottawa location to a swanky new place in the suburbs.

 

Blog posts will still appear from time to time in this space. We will also post notification once the store is up and running again. Thanks for your patience and feel free to wish us well on the move.

 

And to those who might say we are “sell outs” for moving to the ‘burbs: jealousy is an ugly thing.

 

“Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.”

The National Post has done a very nice profile on Ricky Jay (via Rare Book News), one of my favourite magicians/character actors/bon vivants and an all around fascinating figure. The NP profile is about Mr. Jay as a book collector, which only further endears him to me.

“…all those years that I spent on the road opening for rock and roll bands and Cheech and Chong and various people, and living in a small place or on people’s couches. When I would come back to the city the first thing I would do would be to go to a bookstore. I just felt comfortable in print shops and bookstores.”

Ricky Jay is already known to most book dealers and collectors for the wonderfully odd book he wrote Cards as Weapons, which has become a hot commodity among the cognoscenti. Mr. Jay can apparently stick a card in a watermelon at 10 paces.

A regular among David Mamet’s players, the last thing I saw Mr. Jay in was the late lamented Deadwood. He played a card sharp with a shady past—not exactly a stretch I admit:

“I’ve always been comfortable with the netherworld and lowlives in general. I’m incredibly interested in swindlers and pickpockets and deceivers on every level.”

That “roguish” and slightly disreputable air is unmistakable, but there is also something inherently loveable about Ricky Jay. He’s the con man you want to be taken by. He’s the shady uncle you want to show up to thanksgiving because he’s charming yet unpredictable. He might offend as many at the table as he entertains. There’s something potentially a little dangerous about him despite his mostly innocuous appearance. But, you know that deep down, he wants to entertain everyone above all else, in his own words:

“I’m honest on stage.”

 

“If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.”

The Guardian has posted an excellent article on the creation of one of the 20th Century’s most influential and significant novels, 1984 (via Reading Copy Book Blog).

Coincidently, I just reread 1984 last month—the first time since I was maybe thirteen years old. It retained all the power to provoke that I remembered it having. In fact, 1984 owes something to the tradition of gothic horror in the vein of Poe. Winston’s sufferings in the dreaded “Room 101” have the same impact on the reader as the shadowy medieval dungeons of a story like The Pit and the Pendulum. The key difference being the antiseptic operating-theatre ambiance of the lair of the Thought Police—making the degradations and psychological trauma seem closer to the modern reader I suppose.

The story of Orwell’s actual writing of 1984 is the archetypal romantic journey of a tortured yet determined artist—literally labouring in isolation and minimal comfort, in the wake of his wife’s premature death. Orwell even fought with “consumption” to complete his masterpiece! The creation of 1984 the novel is like a Byronesque fantasy of the artistic impulse. The Guardian article even notes extensive re-working in various inks—the apparently hard labour of wrestling the final version into shape.

One of the surprises for me upon rereading 1984 were the long passages of “Goldstein’s” book. As a teenager, I must have skimmed over these parts. I was struck by this passage describing Winston’s reaction to the book:

“It was the product of a mind similar to his own, but enormously more powerful, more systematic, less fear-ridden. The best books, he perceived, are those that tell you what you know already.”

Winston of course interprets the book as a critique of Big Brother. Later, we come to see it as a kind of “how to” manual for totalitarianism. Too late, Winston understands that totalitarianism is the result of a creeping, consensual process on the part of us: the masses. In terms of books, the best-of-the-best tell you something new about what you thought you already knew.

Orwell anticipates some of the reaction to his own book in this passage—most of his audience would never have read anything quite like 1984.

 

“Once you learn to read, you will be forever free.”

 

In a recent post at The Bookshop Blog, Nora O’Neill has written an impassioned plea for booksellers to consider the issue of literacy. She provides a litany of startling U.S. statistics:

 

“In some states they use the third grade reading proficiency scores to estimate future prison need. Why? 85% of prison inmates cannot read proficiently. Simply increasing the graduation rate by 5% would save the US $5 BILLION annually in prison related costs…Every 26 seconds, a kid drops out of school in the US. Over their lifetime, each high school drop out costs the US government roughly$260,000….One in seven adults in the US can not read this post…”

 

Without fact checking all her stats—or indeed, looking for Canadian equivalents—I’m still moved to share her article. She makes the argument that, for booksellers, encouraging literacy is good for business in the long term. This is a reasonable approach to take, but it also disappoints me a little. I find it vaguely sad that Ms. O’Neil feels compelled to look for financial incentives to interest booksellers in literacy programs. I’m not naïve enough to think that all booksellers have to love books, but overall, it doesn’t make much sense to get into the business unless you do.

 

And, frankly, a love of books should be enough of a motivator for anyone to champion literacy.

 

Beyond straightforward literacy, the concept of the benefits of being well read has faded under the pressures of increased specialization. I’m continually shocked by the people I meet in the course of my day job—white-collar professionals with very large salaries—who can’t successfully string two sentences together. And this inability to write properly is the direct result of a life-long disinterest in reading. But what’s even more distressing is that these people don’t care at all about what I see as a gap in their education—it apparently has no impact on their earning potential.

 

This is where the utility arguments concerning money fall down for me. These people are literate, but they are also limited and don’t know it. I’m not making any kind of elitist stand about what they read either: they don’t read at all. In fact, a small part of what I get paid for is digesting very large documents and providing the highlights to people disinclined to read them themselves—who in some cases are my superiors.

 

I think the quality of communications in the business world is probably declining overall with the decline in readers. Being a book-lover expands all of your language skills—it helps improve public discourse. The people I encounter every day who don’t read are missing something I consider essential in their daily life.

 

I won’t even attempt to convey what I think non-readers are missing in terms of the uplifting power of the art in literature—that’s a sucker’s game if you can’t even get someone to pick up a paperback at the airport.

 

Since he was a baby, my son was read to every night. He’s been encouraged from birth to see books as a valuable part of everyday life. I kept reading to him before bed even after the point he could read the same books to himself—just to enjoy the act of reading out loud together. I think he had read Lord of the Rings himself by the age of 8 or 9. I’m thrilled to have contributed to the development of another book nerd in this world and hope that he carries on the tradition.

 

I’m appalled that literacy still isn’t a given in all industrialized nations. We should all support literacy programs, whether bookseller of punter, as an essential service like water.

 

“…to act like a god among men”

Keith Phipps of the Onion AV Club has been writing a highly entertaining series of reviews based on a box of 75 used paperbacks he bought not long ago. The box contains a nice assortment of science fiction, detective and other genre offerings. Mr. Phipps has apparently been working his way through the whole box.

 

As anyone who reads this blog regularly knows, I love random thought experiments, lists and creative constraints. Mr. Phipps’ picaresque task appeals to me on a number of levels—not least of which is the fact that a number of the books in his magic box are very, very good.

 

Case in point: the latest installment, number 59, is The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells. I recently read Wells’ The Island of Doctor Moreau, which I found to be surprisingly fresh and engaging for a Victorian novel. Even the book’s preoccupation with the concept of vivisection—oddly in vogue at the time—seems to align with our current preoccupations with the future of biotechnology. Wells seems to mean Moreau as a morality play, but the ethics of the protagonist are so sketchy and fear-based that the overall message becomes much more intriguing than a simple man-was-not-meant-to-meddle caution. His socialism is apparent in Wells’ attraction to the oppressed, but he often casts those oppressed—Morlocks for another example—as visions of terror. Rather than muddling his efforts, these tensions make Moreau seem much more modern than it is.

 

I haven’t read The Invisible Man since I was 10, but I suspect it’ll share some of the same modernist tendencies. Mr. Phipps has definitely sparked my interest in re-reading it—along with a number of others in his 75.

Kyla Ubbink of Ubbink Book & Paper Conservation

 

Kyla Ubbink is a local Ottawa book and paper conservation specialist, whose work is truly amazing. We’ve had her do some repair and restoration work for the store, and the results were extremely impressive. If you have any interest in book and paper arts, I would highly recommend Kyla’s workshops coming up in April. The details below were provided by Ms. Ubbink.

 

The City of Ottawa Archives and the Friends of the City of Ottawa Archives are proud to sponsor two workshops that will give you the knowledge and skills to protect your valuable papers and photographs. The workshops will be repeated over the course of a weekend, to give you a greater choice of dates and times.

 

Saturday, April 4th, 2009:

9-12 a.m. paper & books

1-4 p.m. photographs

 

Sunday, April 5th, 2009:

9-12 a.m. photographs

1-4 p.m. paper & books

 

Location: 111 Sussex Drive, Cafeteria, Terrace Level, Bytown Pavilion. Signage in the building will direct you to the room. Free parking is provided underground. The entrance for the parking is located on Sussex Drive.

 

Registration Fee: $45.00 for one session, or $85.00 for both. Participants will receive a conservation tool-kit. Participants registered for a full day will be served a light lunch. The lecturers are: Kyla Ubbink of Ubbink Book & Paper Conservation, and Greg Hill of Hill Conservation Services.

 

To register: contact David Bullock at 613-839-2479 or by e-mail at bullocknunn@rogers.com. Date limit to register: March 26th.

 

“What is literature compared with cooking? The one is shadow, the other is substance.”

 From Liam’s Pictures from Old Books
From Liam’s Pictures from Old Books

Cooking has long been a hobby of mine and we’ve acquired and sold a few interesting cookbooks, but it’s a specialty that deserves more focused attention than we can generally spare. But the lure of a good cookbook is still undeniable to me. I will even read them like novels.

There’s a recent article in the Economist that caught my attention on the work of Richard Wrangham, of Harvard University (via: Arts & Letters Daily). Dr. Wrangham believes that cooking has played an important part in human evolution and he is conducting experiments to try and prove that hypothesis.

He also believes that there is scientific evidence that processed food is bad for us. Not exactly an earth-shattering revelation these days, but an interesting line of inquiry within the scope of cooking as an evolutionary road.

I’ve long been fascinated by similar ideas such as those entertained people like Claude Lévi-Strauss and Arthur C. Clarke that our tools helped evolve us in some way, rather than strictly the other way round.

And many people have studied the impact of language and writing on human evolution.

The question I have is: have books been around long enough to have any kind of meaningful effect on human evolution? And if they have, will the transition to e-readers, or whatever we eventually end up with, change the evolutionary side-road that books may have put us on?

Or maybe, as William Gibson would have it, “…the bison will be there, waiting for us” and the specific technology of Gutenberg is less important than us book lovers would like to hope.

“Satire is a lesson, parody is a game”

art by the great Wally Wood
art by the great Wally Wood

I can’t remember where I received this ridiculous yet captivating collection of Star Wars Mad Magazine parody covers from, but I’m thinking maybe Bookninja. This collection is the perfect amount of Mad for me: a few quick chuckles at the myriad ways Star Wars can be mocked in simple sight-gag shots. I don’t want to engage with it much more than that.

I’m aware of and respect the history and influence of Mad. I’m also a big fan of a several of the artists who worked on the mag over the years—particularly the brilliant Wally Wood. But I can’t help but think of it as a kind of phase in a young man’s reading life. As a kid, Mad seems terribly clever, but not many people continue to defend it all their lives.

One of my biggest pet peeves about Mad is their iconic mascot Alfred E. Neuman. Something about the moronic Alfred has always seemed evil looking rather than mischievous. His gap-toothed grimace is menacing to me. And I suppose that was always the point. Mad was meant to challenge the establishment (man) with sharp edged humour. I guess the problem I have with Mad is that their pens were, more often than not, clubs rather than swords.

Still, you know, Darth Vader as Mister T…that’s funny.

 

“Our high respect for a well-read man is praise enough of literature”

John DeNardo of the insanely informative and up-to-date SF Signal has run with an entertaining meme that originated at the Guardian.

The gist of which involves a list of 124 works of science fiction and fantasy, which apparently must be read by all. I love book lists and I love checking them off. I have some quibbles over individual entries here. For example, I recently read H. G. Wells’ The Island of  Doctor Moreau and I was very impressed by how fresh and vibrant it was. I would certainly put it ahead of The War of The Worlds, but it didn’t even make the list. Also, I would have put Iain M. Banks’ Use of Weapons ahead of Consider Phlebas—even though I admire both. And you’ll never convince me that the Foundation books are better than either I Robot or The Caves of Steel—or that Weaveworld is even fit to clean up after Imajica. Is Fight Club really an SF or fantasy book? Where is Something Wicked This Way Comes or 1984 or The Left Hand of Darkness or…

Of course, this is the beauty of lists: the endless debate and surprising revelation. A couple of my favourite books are on here (see if you can guess which ones)—as well as recommendations from friends—yes I see Cloud Atlas is on there, you can all stop telling me to read it now. There are even a couple books here that I make a specific point of rereading every few years.

Following John’s lead I have highlighted the one’s I’ve read. I hereby endorse and encourage the spread of this meme. 

  1. Douglas Adams: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (1979)
  2. Brian W Aldiss: Non-Stop (1958)
  3. Isaac Asimov: Foundation (1951)
  4. Margaret Atwood: The Blind Assassin (2000)
  5. Paul Auster: In the Country of Last Things (1987)
  6. Iain Banks: The Wasp Factory (1984)
  7. Iain M Banks: Consider Phlebas (1987)
  8. Clive Barker: Weaveworld (1987)
  9. Nicola Barker: Darkmans (2007)
  10. Stephen Baxter: The Time Ships (1995)
  11. Greg Bear:
    Darwin’s Radio (1999)
  12. Alfred Bester: The Stars My Destination (1956)
  13. Poppy Z Brite: Lost Souls (1992)
  14. Algis Budrys: Rogue Moon (1960)
  15. Mikhail Bulgakov: The Master and Margarita (1966)
  16. Edward Bulwer-Lytton: The Coming Race (1871)
  17. Anthony Burgess: A Clockwork
    Orange (1960)
  18. Anthony Burgess: The End of the World News (1982)
  19. Edgar Rice Burroughs: A Princess of Mars (1912)
  20. William Burroughs: Naked Lunch (1959)
  21. Octavia Butler: Kindred (1979)
  22. Samuel Butler: Erewhon (1872)
  23. Italo Calvino: The Baron in the Trees (1957)
  24. Ramsey Campbell: The Influence (1988)
  25. Lewis Carroll:
    Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865)
  26. Lewis Carroll: Through the Looking-Glass, and What
    Alice Found There (1871)
  27. Angela Carter: Nights at the Circus (1984)
  28. Michael Chabon: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (2000)
  29. Arthur C Clarke: Childhood’s End (1953)
  30. GK Chesterton: The Man Who Was Thursday (1908)
  31. Susanna Clarke: Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (2004)
  32. Michael G Coney: Hello Summer, Goodbye (1975)
  33. Douglas Coupland: Girlfriend in a Coma (1998)
  34. Mark Danielewski: House of Leaves (2000)
  35. Marie Darrieussecq: Pig Tales (1996)
  36. Samuel R Delaney: The Einstein Intersection (1967)
  37. Philip K Dick: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968)
  38. Philip K Dick: The Man in theHigh
    Castle (1962)
  39. Umberto Eco: Foucault’s Pendulum (1988)
  40. Michel Faber: Under the Skin (2000)
  41. John Fowles: The Magus (1966)
  42. Neil Gaiman: American Gods (2001)
  43. Alan Garner: Red Shift (1973)
  44. William Gibson: Neuromancer (1984)
  45. Charlotte Perkins Gilman: Herland (1915)
  46. William Golding: Lord of the Flies (1954)
  47. Joe Haldeman: The Forever War (1974)
  48. M John Harrison: Light (2002)
  49. Robert A Heinlein: Stranger in a Strange Land (1961)
  50. Frank Herbert: Dune (1965)
  51. Hermann Hesse: The Glass Bead Game (1943)
  52. Russell Hoban: Riddley
    Walker (1980)
  53. James Hogg: The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner (1824)
  54. Michel Houellebecq: Atomised (1998)
  55. Aldous Huxley: Brave New World (1932)
  56. Kazuo Ishiguro: The Unconsoled (1995)
  57. Shirley Jackson: The Haunting of Hill House (1959)
  58. Henry James: The Turn of the Screw (1898)
  59. PD James: The Children of Men (1992)
  60. Richard Jefferies: After
    London; Or, Wild
    England (1885)
  61. Gwyneth Jones: Bold as Love (2001)
  62. Franz Kafka: The Trial (1925)
  63. Daniel Keyes: Flowers for Algernon (1966)
  64. Stephen King: The Shining (1977)
  65. Marghanita Laski: The Victorian Chaise-longue (1953)
  66. Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu: Uncle Silas (1864)
  67. Stanislaw Lem: Solaris (1961)
  68. Doris Lessing: Memoirs of a Survivor (1974)
  69. David Lindsay: A Voyage to Arcturus (1920)
  70. Ken MacLeod: The Night Sessions (2008)
  71. Hilary Mantel: Beyond Black (2005)
  72. Michael Marshall Smith: Only Forward (1994)
  73. Richard Matheson: I Am Legend (1954)
  74. Charles Maturin: Melmoth the Wanderer (1820)
  75. Patrick McCabe: The Butcher Boy (1992)
  76. Cormac McCarthy: The Road (2006)
  77. Jed Mercurio: Ascent (2007)
  78. China Miéville: The Scar (2002)
  79. Andrew Miller: Ingenious Pain (1997)
  80. Walter M Miller Jr: A Canticle for Leibowitz (1960)
  81. David Mitchell: Cloud Atlas (2004)
  82. Michael Moorcock: Mother London (1988)
  83. William Morris: News From Nowhere (1890)
  84. Toni Morrison: Beloved (1987)
  85. Haruki Murakami: The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (1995)
  86. Vladimir Nabokov:
    Ada or Ardor (1969)
  87. Audrey Niffenegger: The Time Traveler’s Wife (2003)
  88. Larry Niven: Ringworld (1970)
  89. Jeff Noon: Vurt (1993)
  90. Flann O’Brien: The Third Policeman (1967)
  91. Ben Okri: The Famished Road (1991)
  92. Chuck Palahniuk: Fight Club (1996)
  93. Thomas Love Peacock: Nightmare Abbey (1818)
  94. Mervyn Peake: Titus Groan (1946)
  95. John Cowper Powys: A
    Glastonbury Romance (1932)
  96. Christopher Priest: The Prestige (1995)
  97. François Rabelais: Gargantua and Pantagruel (1532-34)
  98. Ann Radcliffe: The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794)
  99. Alastair Reynolds: Revelation Space (2000)
  100. Kim Stanley Robinson: The Years of Rice and Salt (2002)
  101. JK Rowling: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (1997)
  102. Salman Rushdie: The Satanic Verses (1988)
  103. Antoine de Sainte-Exupéry: The Little Prince (1943)
  104. José Saramago: Blindness (1995)
  105. Will Self: How the Dead Live (2000)
  106. Mary Shelley: Frankenstein (1818)
  107. Dan Simmons: Hyperion (1989)
  108. Olaf Stapledon: Star Maker (1937)
  109. Neal Stephenson: Snow Crash (1992)
  110. Robert Louis Stevenson: The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886)
  111. Bram Stoker: Dracula (1897)
  112. Rupert Thomson: The Insult (1996)
  113. Mark Twain: A
    Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s Court (1889)
  114. Kurt Vonnegut: Sirens of Titan (1959)
  115. Robert Walser: Institute Benjamenta (1909)
  116. Sylvia Townsend Warner: Lolly Willowes (1926)
  117. Sarah Waters: Affinity (1999)
  118. HG Wells: The Time Machine (1895)
  119. HG Wells: The War of the Worlds (1898)
  120. TH White: The Sword in the Stone (1938)
  121. Gene Wolfe: The Book of the New Sun (1980-83)
  122. John Wyndham: Day of the Triffids (1951)
  123. John Wyndham: The Midwich Cuckoos (1957)
  124. Yevgeny Zamyatin: We (1924)

“While the chimes of the clock yet rang…the giddiest grew pale”

Poe signet paperback cover

 I have missed commenting on the actual 200th anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe ’s birth by one day, but I felt I had to at least mark the week in which festivities are occurring.

Today, I read this wonderful Poe reminiscence by horror and fantasy writer Cherie Priest. Her vivid (and frankly personal) account of the impact of discovering Poe’s uniquely dark visions reminded me forcibly of my own first Poe readings.

I encountered Poe’s work when I was roughly 10 years old. My elementary school library had a badly misused paperback collection of his stories. The first story I read was almost certainly the Black Cat…or possibly the Tell Tale Heart…either way I remember being actually afraid. But frightened in the best possible way—goosebumps and thrilled shivers. I also vaguely remember not being clear on whether or not the heart was actually beating.

The Cask of Amontillado would have been next and even at 10 its black-hearted humour was plain to me. Although I suspect that I pictured the Amontillado as some sort of barrel or something.

At this point I would have read The Masque of the Red Death, and it remains far and away my favourite—although as an adult M. Valdemar and Hop Frog have crept up on that list. At 10, quite a bit of Masque would have been opaque. But there is a power to that story that transcends almost any challenges presented by advanced (or archaic) vocabulary. The appearance of Death upon the scene is unmistakeable.

And I think this is a glimpse into the real, undying genius of Poe’s writing: he can be read at almost any age—10 to 110—and something new can be gained. I appreciate the lyricism and beauty of the prose in The Masque of the Red Death more now than I did as a child.

But when I get to that ending, and Death reveals himself as the true master of the gathered revellers, I’m instantly ten years old again.