Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: books (Page 126 of 128)

eBook topples hardback. Surprise?

Once again, my wise and beautiful daughter has captured the essense of forecasting. This time, in a single sentence.

eBook

eBook sales surge for January

“Dad,” she said, pointing at the shelves of books, “do you think people will still want these?”

In hindsight, I can answer, “Some of them.”

Another milestone in publishing, revealed when the post-holiday sales totals were released. eBook sales, those downloads intended for Kindles, Nooks, and other electronic reading devices, out-sold hardbacks for the month of January.

Part of that was brought about by new owners, who had received the digital devices as a gift, and needed something to try it out with.

The Association of American Publishers says the eBook sales more than doubled from the previous year, while sales of hardback books dropped by some six million. Mass market paperbacks, the ones sold at the checkout counters, dropped even further from 56.4 million to 39 million – said to be caused by the dimming eyes of baby boomers who bought larger print books instead.

There will be a day, I’m certain, that lower prices of digital readers and the deaths of paper-book lovers will render printed volumes to something akin to novelties, much like eight-track tapes or vinyl records.

I contend, however, that – so long as there remain authors with egos – there will be a proud place on the bookshelf for a printed copy of a just-published work.

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Inlandia Press has Tulsa metro news online.

Sure’n I recall a fain eve full o’ St. Paddy.

The night was party-perfect and I was helping host one of the bigger celebrations in Tulsa. It was Eire-crazy, enough so that we had to post an Irishman at the front door. There was a line outside.

St. Pat's hats

For the US Irish: a BIG day.

A man and his daughter worked their way to the front, and Robbie says in his fain Dublin brogue, “Aye, the fire marshall says we’re full-up.”

“I see you are,” the man answered. “I’m the fire marshall.”

I was summoned immediately, the words “fire marshall” shouted into my ear over the blaring Irish music. Yikes, I thought, in an adopted Irish brogue. I ran to the front.

Well, ‘ran’ is an overstatement. I leaned and elbowed my way through the human-carwash to where Robbie stood. The man in front of the podium introduced himself and said he was happy to see that we were limiting entry.

The way he said it made it clear that – in his scanning of our happy crowd – we were clearly over capacity. I hadn’t counted but I figured it was a cinch we were. As fire marshall, the man had the option of marching everyone outside and then counting the re-entry until our maximum seating capacity was reached.

He didn’t.

He leaned in and said to me, “My daughter has never been to a St. Patrick’s Day celebration before. I thought we’d try your corned beef.”

I was nodding my head and smiling like a fool.

“If you can find us a table,” he continued, “we can eat a quick meal and you can get back to your little party.”

I told him I’d be back to escort him there presently.

Seating had been a premium since before noon, and those standing about were eyeing potential tables like Irish-vultures. Amazingly, I found a group just starting to push back their chairs.

I grabbed a waitress and had her stake a claim while motioning for another to quickly come clear away the dishes. Another run through the robo-wash and I directed the fire marshall and guest to their sparkling spot.

St. Paddy’s Day continued uninterrupted: the Irish music blared, the bagpipers paraded, the green beer poured, and corned beef was consumed.

I covered the cost of the meal. It was the least I could do. He realized we were trying to do the best we could in a crazy situation. After a smile and wink, the fire marshall went out the door.

I hope his daughter enjoyed her first St. Paddy’s. It was quite the party for us.

A decade later, I think about donning the kilt and finding a celebration… but the bad knee won’t hold up standing too long, and the workday Friday begins at the usual hour.

The restaurant business is a tough way to make a living, about as tough as profiting from book sales.

But there are days I miss the raucous, happy bleeting of bagpipers making their way through my establishment.

Surviving the Times.

Right away I thought, “this is a book I need to read.” The back cover says “Overcome the desire for comfort.” That ought to be a start. If I could just break the eating habit, too.

Camp fire.

Survive with a fire.

The US Army Survival Manual has everything needed to make it through the toughest times.

Here is a sampling of topics that the manual “teaches you how to…”

Tolerate pain.
Start a fire with bow and drill.
Procure water nearly anywhere
Catch and eat insects.
Improvise containers for boiling food.
Make fishhooks and fishing lines.
Capture amphibians and reptiles.
Signal to aircraft with your body.

Now, there may be a few of these that I’ll never need, but still – the idea of being able to overcome the desire for comfort, that in itself is a treasure.

“Yes,” I said loudly in reply to the question. “It DOES hurt immensely, but it’s okay. I have overcome the desire for comfort.”

Paperback at $4.95 – but the truth is, learning to catch and eat insects is cheap at any price.

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