Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: book stores (Page 48 of 113)

Muchas Smooches, said Hobbes.

Some books are comfort food for the heart. Just looking at them can transport you to a different time and place, and maybe even inspire a smile.

Calvin and Hobbes have that effect on me.

One of my simple pleasures, way back when, was the Sunday Tulsa World – back when it was a big, big newspaper. Size of a fireplace log. Not that it was important to strain a back picking up from the driveway, but I just remember it that way. These days the paper is considerably smaller. (Carriers probably prefer the current version.)

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There were a couple of features that were always worthwhile, even when it was a slow sports week. Dave Barry’s column and Calvin and Hobbes.

More than once I had trouble getting through Mr. Barry’s column. It got to be a common practice that I would read it aloud so my wife and I could enjoy it at the same time. When Dave was hitting on all cylinders I’d be laughing so hard it was difficult to speak. It made for an uplifting way to start off the Sunday.

We both enjoyed Calvin and Hobbes, but it just wasn’t a read-out-loud feature. The fun was in the artwork. The comic strip was drawn by an artist named Bill Watterson for a ten year period beginning in late 1985. Some of you will have grown up without ever having seen it in a daily paper.

And that’s a shame. Calvin is an ornery six year old, and Hobbes is his Tiger. The trick of the feature is that – while everyone else sees Hobbes as a stuffed toy – Calvin and the readers see the tiger as a living, breathing, fun-loving sidekick.

Just like it made my Sundays, I was really tickled to come across a huge stack of the collected comic strips in paperback. Pristine copies, too.

Even though it has been years since I’ve seen them, when I flipped one over to look at the back, I immediately remembered Spaceman Spiff. You C & H fans will remember Calvin’s trips into deep space, where he assumed his alter ego.

When Mr Watterson first introduced Calvin, I wondered about the economy of his artwork. The kid’s hair is little more than a squiggled line and his mouth is usually a triangle. Working with such a simple form, I was amazed at the range of emotions that were depicted. And the background art?

Stuff worthy of framed canvas.

Mr Watterson was able to fill his Sunday comic strip with outrageous depictions of Calvin’s imagination, from dinosaurs, to space travel, to ingenious snow sculpture. (Calvin’s projects were always more than just snowmen.)

They’re priced individually, but if you’re in need of a twenty-years-later Calvin & Hobbes fix, I’ll make you such a deal on the entire lot.

Come visit!

McHuston

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

Lunch: Before

All the changes to the website are causing updates that could be avoided if I could simply quit mentioning the image at the top of the page. In our last episode – involving puckering up at the Blarney Stone – there was a picture of Blarney Castle that I felt needed an explanation.

Well.

I should have left it alone. Next day, new changes. It’s still a nice landscape shot of Ireland until I can manage an outside shot of the bookstore. Raining today. Even while the sun is shining.

Go figure.

At any rate, I needed something to at least tie the picture to the shop, so I photographed my lunch. Cup o’ soup (White Cheddar & Potato), Ham & Cheese sandwich, and a side o’ chips. We call it the Every Day Special. It’s made fresh, to order. And not just the sandwich. That bowl of soup started out as russet potatoes earlier this morning. Peeled ’em. Cooked ’em.

Ate ’em. (Took the picture first, which I promise I don’t normally do at lunchtime. Thus: the title. Lunch: Before I ate it.)

Served the soup at lunchtime until it ran out. Irish stew is at the ready every day. Serving Monday through Friday at lunchtime.

Come visit and sit down for a spell. And maybe a cup o’ soup!

McHuston

Ceci est un Blog, not Literature.

“Do you have Jane Eyre?” she asked, and I was about to answer when she finished her question. “In an older copy? Hardback?”

I was still sizing that up when she concluded: “In French?”

Getting past the surprise, I was flattered that she expected it possible to find a copy of that English literature title in French (or a French literature title in English). It’s a sure indication that our Broken Arrow, Oklahoma clientele is a discerning sort.

Regrettably, I let her down.

Had she been a little less specific, I could have offered Lettres et Poésies d’amour de Charlotte Brontë, a 1953 collection of Ms. Brontë’s love letters published in Belgium. There’s a copy of Moulin Rouge on the shelf as well (Paris, 1953). Wouldn’t do though.

C’est la façon dont le ballon rebondit. (That’s the way the ball bounces.)

Of course, the discriminating nature of this morning’s question is offset by the one posed by a gentleman the other day. He opened the door, stepped inside, put his hands on his hips, and gazed around from floor to ceiling.

“What is it you do in here, exactly?” he asked.

I was stumped by that one, I’ll admit. Had the answer until he tacked on the “exactly,” which had me mentally fishing for some concise description of what goes on – exactly – in a bookstore with bistro tables, where the proprietor rebinds books, edits manuscripts, and pursues research projects in between the cooking and the cleaning.

Should have just handed him a copy of Gabrielle Zevin’s homage to the independent bookstore, “The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry,” currently entrenched on the New York Times bestsellers list. Ms. Zevin obviously has a place in her heart for off-beat shops and a story that will appeal to readers – whether they own a bookstore or not.

In truth, I’m a little reluctant to recommend it. Could be I liked it because a lot of what happens at A. J. Fikry’s Island Bookstore is curiously familiar. Maybe not in exact events, but in the sorts of things that happen in the book shop. Then, there are the book-reader inside jokes and behind-the-counter details that are indigenous to the endangered species – bookseller.

Mr. Fikry is a curmudgeonly proprietor (and you may keep your comparisons to yourself), who finds life-redemption in the form of an abandoned child left in his book store. Although none of the reviews I encountered mentioned it, I can’t be the only one who was reminded of George Eliot’s “Silas Marner.” Granted, Silas is the weaver of Raveloe instead of the village bookseller, but his stolen hoard of money is eventually forgotten when a child is left at his doorstep. Mr. Fikry finds public acceptance through the advice and counsel of the many neighbors who share their childrearing experiences, just as did Silas Marner. Despite the similarities, Ms. Zevin massages the plot into an original story that will endear itself to most readers.

You’ll find a first edition copy (with a custom plastic dustjacket protector) at below-publisher price, but it occurred to me as I set it out that A. J. Fikry encountered trouble in his offering of bestsellers in Ms. Zevin’s story.

“Seems like a lot,” says his customer, looking over the latest Alex Cross hardback. “You know I can get it cheaper online, right?” Mr. Fikry answers in a manner that you won’t hear in this shop.

I may be curmudgeonly, but politeness drills are staged each morning – part of what we do in here, Exactly.

Come visit!

McHuston

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

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