McHuston Booksellers

Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Page 20 of 220

Be it ever so ‘umble…

The Holiday Season is officially underway at the bookshop, what with the annual unveiling of that evergreen symbol of Peace on Earth, Goodwill, and Whatnot. Rarer than the Douglas Fir, hardier than the Scotch Pine, the Norwegian Nude is taken from the Nordic Uplands to complete the perfect entryway display.

A tree that can stand on its own two legs, the Norwegian Nude needs no electrical illumination, aluminum tinsel, or fragile glass bulbs – but makes its own statement by elbowing out a corner near the counter, bare as intented, save for a strand of interlocking rings constructed of paper cut from the pages of a vintage copy of Modern Arborist.

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A festive crowd was on hand for the topping out, and a joyous shout went up as the boughs were given the final touches. Aromatic mugs of wassail (Wassail (/ˈwɒsəl/, /-eɪl/; Old Norse “ves heil”, Old English was hál, literally: be hale) A beverage of hot mulled cider, traditionally drunk as an integral part of wassailing, a Medieval English drinking ritual intended to ensure a good cider apple harvest the following year.) were raised in a celebratory toast to the season, and the ceremony was capped by a collective rendition of Handel’s Messiah and Hallelujah Chorus.

You can tell by now why I’m not a successful fiction writer. It was just me, struggling with an off-center tree-stand – long past the timely practices of our Rose District neighbors – but a decoration is finally installed.

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I think our tree may be a direct descendant of the Charlie Brown cartoon Christmas tree (a reference for those of you who may remember the Peanuts/Snoopy comic strip…). Homely, but heart-felt.

However lacking it is in flashing lights and tinsel, I like to believe the ever-evergreen is just happy to be out of cold storage in the loft above the office.

We’re in the spirit here, just a little slow to get things kick-started, and obviously still waiting for the corporate decorating squad to make their way down from the home office to finish up the task. (Expecting that to be sometime after New Years… More fiction.)

We’re serving up lunch 11am to 2pm, (and no surcharge for a tree-side table!), so…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow, OK!

When You Share a Famous Name…

Sometimes, it doesn’t pay to be honest. In this case, the unpaid amount of my truthfulness was $6.95 – a reasonable figure for a 103-year-old first edition. Just before mentioning the sales total to the lady on the other side of the counter, I gave the book a second look.

“You weren’t buying this as a work of Winston Churchill,” I asked. “The English politician?”

She replied that she was, and in short order I was canceling the transaction.

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We shouldn’t feel too bad – as a reading public – not knowing that there were two famous gentlemen named Winston Churchill. In fact, they knew each other. One was rich and famous; the other was prime minister of England. They were born within a few years of each other.

One in England.

The other in St. Louis, Missouri, USA.

While the future English PM was resigning his commission with the British Army, the American Winston Churchill authored his second novel. The book – entitled Richard Carvel – was published in 1898 – and sold two million copies. At the time, there were only 70 million or so living in the US, which would equate to 10-11 million copies sold in this day and age.

Not Harry Potter numbers, to be sure, but not far from The Girl On the Train or The Fault in Our Stars – current books popular enough that they were recently produced as movies.

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There were plenty of similarities between our Winston and theirs. Brit-Winston began writing as a correspondent after leaving the army. US-Winston attended the Naval Academy and began writing after resigning from the Navy. Winston-UK wrote as a war reporter; Winston-US edited The Army and Navy Journal. While his counterpart across the water was being elected to Parliament, Winston US Churchill was serving in the New Hampshire state legislature.

In 1919, after authoring a dozen books, the American Winston decided to retire from the public eye, quit his writing, and took up painting and private life. And there is the place at which the future British Prime Minister Winston Churchill claimed the fame of the name.

Without appearances to promote his books or painting exhibitions, the American novelist Winston Churchill was gradually forgotten, and the increasing fame of his British counterpart sealed the fate of the US writer’s obscurity.

Just as it was at the sales counter and the century-old hardback book, the name has become attached to the WWII statesman rather than the American author of fiction.

It wasn’t the first time The Inside of the Cup has been returned to the shelf, the victim of mistaken identity and an honest bookseller.

One of these days… someone will come along and appreciate the nice old book for what it is and allow me bag it up for the $7 price. Until then, I’m doing my part to publicize our own (once) famous Winston Churchill.

The (literal) Inside of the Cup held coffee this chilly day, and we’ll be pouring it again tomorrow, serving up hot soup, stew, and sandwiches at lunchtime – come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow, OK!

Cubs Win! Cubs Win!

We’re all breaking out our Cubs stories after the ending of the century old dry-spell for baseball’s lovable losers (although the tone of the recollections may be a little different when told by Cleveland fans). For a game that has been criticized lately as slow-moving or less than dramatic – the Game Seven win by Chicago could have been written as a suspense-filled last chapter.

Except for a few folks who admitted to giving it up in favor of a good night’s sleep when the grounds-crew rolled out the rain tarp, a surprising number of our lunch guests today were still excited at having stayed up to watch the end.

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By now, you’ll have heard how the Cubs got off to an early lead and then squandered it all away. It was enough to see the faces and gestures of the many on-camera Chicago fans at Wrigley, elated then agonizing over the score – as Cleveland came back to tie.

Extra innings. But first, a rain delay.

Almost like a Hollywood script, the Cubs score enough to win, except Cleveland is to have the last at-band. Two outs, then a walk. Then a run.

Then an out – the final one, and the end of the Curse of the Billy Goat. (But that’s a whole ‘nother story…)

As for my own Cubs story, it was enough to be at Wrigley on a beautiful afternoon, seats along the first base side, during the summer of the battling bats of Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire. Some folks only remember the corked bat accusations and performance enhancement issues from that time, but it seemed to me all those home runs brought back some of the magic of the Big Leagues.

We got to see Sammy hit one out of the park on that afternoon. Not just out of the playing field. It soared over the ivy wall, over the bleachers and out onto Waveland Avenue. Granted, the old park is smaller than most, but still – it was an epic shot, and one of those things assigned a permanent memory spot.

Then after the game, a deep pan pizza from a nearby landmark, where I saw an epic-sized rat. (Or maybe it was one of the world’s smallest pizza employees. But that’s a whole ‘nother story, too…)

My guess is, after the immediate shock of the win wears off, Cubs fans are going to miss the annual groaning and moaning, that whole “we just can’t ever win!” lament that was as much a part of baseball’s storied history as the Bambino, Mickey Mantle, and Build-it-and-They-Will-Come.

There will still be Cubs fans.

They just won’t be those same down-trodden, lovable losing North-siders. Because now, they’re World Champions.

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