It has been a year since I began writing this newsletter, with varying amounts of consistency. I have read so many books since then, and not read even more. I was considering commemorating this anniversary with a list of books I have read in the past year, cherry-picking those that most resonated with me. But that feels more like a year-end activity, and I still have about two months of reading ahead of me. So instead, I’m going to celebrate this anniversary by getting back to basics: no theme and no books I’ve read, just those that caught my eye, piqued my interest. Books that I didn’t buy, possibly didn’t even touch, but came across in the course of my day doing what I do (selling books).
How to Lie with Maps by Mark Monmonier
I “discovered” this book when a customer brought it to the register. It was one of the books that stuck in my brain, a little over a year ago, when I was first conceiving of this newsletter. But I never wrote about it.
Until now.
I love maps. I find them fascinating. I love it when books include maps—specifically sci-fi fantasy books—because these maps are stories in and of themselves. A map can tell such a detailed, intricate story. But our map usage is falling by the wayside in favor of navigation apps. These are damn useful and far more convenient, but I recently experienced the sheer joy of navigating somewhere (successfully) using only physical maps. I felt empowered and aware in a way I never do when following Google Maps. I always claim to have a terrible sense of space and direction, but I think that would improve if only I used maps.
So yeah, maps are great. And I don’t like lying, but I am intrigued by the ways maps can lie. Much like history is written by the victors, maps are drawn by the conquerors. Humans are subjective and thus so are our maps. But, until I’d seen this book, I never considered this. Now I want to learn all the ways maps can lie.
Appendix Project by Kate Zambreno
I’ll admit it; I was drawn in by the cover and the title. I enjoy back matter—indexes, appendices, footnotes—especially when employed in uncommon ways. What you should know about me is I was once extremely excited by a book jacket that read
a fascinating exploration of the rituals, routines, metrics and expectations through which we attempt to quantify and ascribe value to our lives.
(I ended up not really liking that book at all, which was a shame because it seemed simultaneously poetic and data-centric.)
I’m not sure any of that has to do with Zambreno’s book, but the title is just vague enough that it might. And anyway, I’ve been meaning to read Heroines by her as well, which is about the lives of various modernist wives and mistresses. (Let’s be real, I bought it because Shirley Jackson is on the cover.) Zambreno seems like a writer I’ll be really into, just as soon as I read her.
Exquisite Mariposa by Fiona Alison Duncan
I’m not sure how I feel about this one. The beginning of the jacket copy is
Given the initials F.A.D. at birth, Fiona Alison Duncan has always had an eye for observing the trends around her. But after years of trying to please others, looking for answers in books and astrological charts, and clocking endless hours as a celebrity journalist just to make rent, Fiona discovers another way of existing: in the Real, a phenomenological state few humans live in.
Basically, this book sounds like it could be awful, a navel-gazing mess of a “millennial” novel. But I trust Soft Skull, and one reviewer described it as “if Eve Babitz wrote Weetzie Bat.” Which I find extremely intriguing. In fact, it just bumped it’s way towards the top of my maybe-I-actually-will-read list.
Honorable Mention: Box Girl: My Part Time Job as an Art Installation by Lilibet Snellings
Snellings reviewed Exquisite Mariposa, which is how I heard about her memoir. Apparently she had a job at The Standard Hotel in West Hollywood where she sat in a giant glass case behind their front desk. She could do anything inside, so long as she ignored the guests.
You’re telling me I could get a job where I can read all day, I just have to be ok with people staring and pointing at me? Ok, I can see how that could quickly become nightmarish and claustrophobic, but it is a little intriguing.
Joseph Cornell’s Vision of Spiritual Order by Lindsay Blair
It seems apt to include a book I found on my friend Kristianne’s shelf as not one but two of her books appeared in issue one.
I’ve always been fascinated by Cornell’s shadow boxes, how one can take found objects, arrange them just so, and create art. Collage interests me for the same reasons. I like odd juxtapositions, visuals that don’t fit expectations. I also love small things.
This seems to be not quite a biography of Cornell, but an intensive study, utilizing his scrapbooks, source files, diaries, and correspondences. Like a reconstruction of his thought patterns and processes.
The desire to control and manage the flood of impressions and objects led to [Cornell’s] creation of files or "dossiers"—collections of found photographic images and impulsively scribbled notes arranged around particular themes. By analyzing the construction and content of these dossiers, Blair offers a cogent and revealing look into the basis of Cornell's art.
Whole files devoted to specific themes! I am fascinated by this, and I want to know more.
Other Ways to Find Me On the Internets
I host a podcast called Drunk Booksellers where my best friend and I interview a fellow bookseller while drinking. I sometimes tweet about books and politics. I sometimes post pictures of books I’m reading, or cats I’m hanging out with on Instagram.
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