Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: used (Page 15 of 47)

The heat of the hunt: Summer style.

I carried the two small bags out to her car, which was parked at the far end of the block. “I’ll set them in the back seat for you,” I said.

“I’m so excited,” she replied.

The object of her anticipation was at the bottom of the Saks cord-handled bag, but I know it will be the first book she’ll dig out of it. From the titles she had carried up to the register I knew she was a candidate for a Vanessa Michael Munroe story.

informationist

It probably shouldn’t, but I still get a little surprised when a little lady – struggling to keep a grip on three or four paperbacks at a time – has such a firm grasp on espionage and suspense stories. I had intended to suggest author Daniel Silva based on the titles she had already chosen, but when I offered to carry her selections up to the front, I noticed two of Silva’s books were already among them.

“Can you think of someone else I might like?” she asked, after I’d already offered up Lee Child, Nelson DeMille, and Stieg Larsson. (She’d already gone through all those.)

“Do you ever read a hardback?” I asked, and then brought over a copy of The Informationist. “It has a woman character that’s a little like Jason Bourne, James Bond, and Lizbeth Salander rolled into one.”

She decided to give it a try, even though she said hardbacks are tough to read in bed. (I have the same experience. Just as I begin to nod off, the book topples over and bonks me on the forehead.)

Author Taylor Stevens has been up late pounding at the keyboard. She’s the force behind the Monroe series, has a novella just released and a hardback due this summer. THE VESSEL is a great fill-in-the-blanks story. I’m sure you’ve experienced one of those – a book that leaves a character’s outcome unsettled, or a question unanswered. The “vessel” is the ship the bad guy sailed away on in a previous episode.

Needless to say, he’s looking over his shoulder. As Vanessa Michael Munroe notes early on, “He has to be.”

When Count of Monte Cristo is placed on the checkout counter, I always think – now THERE is a revenge story. THE VESSEL is a little like that, except Munroe isn’t so much out to get even, personally, as she is intending to put a stop to the bad guy’s activities. More of stalker story than a tale of retribution, and one that allows the author’s character to flex her muscles – both physically and mentally.

Never thought I’d be pointing anyone toward an eReader, but unfortunately (for a bookseller), that’s the way THE VESSEL has been released. The good news for you Kindle’rs, iPad owners, and Nook-ers, is that the ninety-nine cents you’ll spend for a digital copy will be the best less-than-a-dollar you’ll spend this summer. (Even ice cream cones are more than that, these days…)

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow, OK! 74012

It’s a Happy St. Pat’s Day to ya!

Hard to imagine a St. Patrick’s Day without some kind of stress (from a restaurateur’s point of view), but this one goes in the books that way. Granted, the celebration here was an abbreviated version, compared to some year’s events, and those planned elsewhere. The fire-marshal-at-the-door-year comes to mind, for example…He was most gracious though, that year, and said we could “carry on our party.”

Once again, Kristen the super-daughter stepped in to make it all work smoothly. I ventured out from the kitchen when I could, just so I dash among the tables spreading blarney. (One of my many vices.) She is always great at taking care of the guests and making sure everyone has what they need for a good experience.

I have the apron on yet, ready to tackle the stack of dishes and glassware that resulted from the St. Paddy’s Day lunch. The feel-good afterglow even knocks down the burden of hand-washing all those plates and bowls. I do miss the big sanitizing machine we had at Paddy’s Irish.

(We now interrupt the blog for this news-brief: I just fielded a telephone call with a question about how busy it would be tonight. Not all all. One of these days we’ll graduate to the Big Boy party circuit. Maybe. Having been in that league during my years at Paddy’s Irish in Tulsa, I’m not sure I’m ready to jump back into the party-pit.)

Today was genuinely enjoyable.

A fellow just popped in wondering about the evening’s Irish menu. I hate to disappoint potential partiers, but I had hardly recovered from the Saturday evening cooking and serving before I was back in the kitchen again, prepping for Monday’s lunch. Those carrots and potatoes still won’t peel and chop themselves, despite my repeated training sessions. Of course, after I admitted we’d already had our little party, he said he was planning to visit Main Street Tavern anyway…

So, there weren’t any bagpipers playing. Some are relieved when that happens, but I happen to enjoy them. We had no Celtic guitars and penny-whistlers. No riverdancers. There was enough of the Clancy Brothers to prompt a “Can you turn it down?” request. And that was okay, too.

Time marches on. Eventually, I’ll need a cane to keep up with it, I suppose.

For now though, I’m sure I’m not the only one a wee bit relieved that the festivities of the pot o’ gold type are over for the year. (Reference: Saturday evening’s ShamRock the Rose festival in the Rose District, and everyone who worked so hard to make that event come off as planned, or – at least – near to the plan.) At the restaurant in Tulsa, we had a tradition in place. There were alterations to the formula, to be sure, but it was a bit of carry on and keep it up.

Here, it was a first-time thing. (Last year, St. Paddy’s fell on a Sunday, creating its own set of difficulties.) But, from here on out, there is an experience to build on. And, Hey! Maybe next year we’ll even publicize our little party. Who knows?

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, all! And to those of you who allowed us to serve you lunch and a green beer or shamrock punch:

Go raibh míle maith agat!

(If you want to say it out loud, that’s – Guh Rev Meeluh Mah Og-ut.)

Roughly translated from Irish Gaelic: Thanks a million!

Come visit!

McHuston

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

What? Who?

“Glory is fleeting,” Napoleon is supposed to have said, “but Obscurity is forever.” Fame is a lot like glory in that respect. You can’t be too well-known if people don’t remember who you are.

Some time back, a younger person was asking who the Beatles were, and the explanation came back that it was Paul McCartney’s band before he joined Wings. (It wasn’t my answer…)

Ouch. I would have figured the Beatles as beyond forgetting. But what about their predecessors, popular singers like Eddie Cantor and Paul Anka? I’ll admit I can’t name even one Eddie Cantor song, and at the moment, I’m drawing a blank on Anka as well.

Elvis is remembered, I guess. I haven’t done any surveys. I was nervous about buying a Marilyn Monroe book collection for fear that no one remembers her anymore, and I’d be stuck with them. (I’ve pretty much sold them all.) Napoleon is supposed to have finished his Fleeting Glory saying with: “I choose obscurity.” Ironically, the French military leader maintains his fame more than two-hundred years later.

A research project had me going through the archives of Billboard magazine, a trade publication that has been in print for over a century. Most people have heard of the Billboard music charts, but the magazine actually reports on a myriad of entertainment fields. One of the covers from the 1940s caught my attention.

The slim fellow behind the microphone was so well known in his time, that he could be identified just by his initials – N.T.G. – sort of like presidents JFK and FDR.

Inside the magazine is an item serving as a caption to the front cover, and the final line reads: Nils Thor Granlund is one of the great showmen of our time.

And I bet you’ve never – ever – heard of him.

For those of us looking the article over from a distance of more than half a century, even the accomplishments attributed to the showman are obscure.

“It was NTG who conceived the elaborate movie premiere, with lights, news-cameras and personal appearances of stars. It was NTG who exploited and advertised the first full-length motion picture in this country. When radio began to gain a foothold it was NTG who brought Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor and Harry Richman to the listening public. He also presented radio’s first amateur program.”

The item goes on to point out that Granlund was born in Lapland and by age eighteen had already made his mark as a race car driver, an aviator, and press agent – then went to work for movie pioneer Marcus Loew.

“His greatest fame, of course, has been gained in the night club field,” claimed the Billboard writer. “The famed Paradise Restaurant in New York was also his creation.”

A lot of “fame” being thrown around there, but all these years later, his name, his restaurants, and his night club adventures are lost to memory. Granlund’s name was largely forgotten by the public at the time of his death, in a 1950s car accident. His was a rags to riches to rags story. Fame is fleeting. Obscurity is forever. When no one can even recall your name, it doesn’t matter how famous you once were.

And NTG was at the top of the heap in his time.

The Billboard item starts: “No history of show business could be complete without a long chapter devoted to the incomparable NTG, star-maker, pioneer, and precedent-setter extraordinary.”

Wow.

Maybe the most famous person you’ve never heard of.

Somebody ought to write a book about the guy!

Come visit!

McHuston

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

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