—Allison Hoover Bartlett, The Man Who Loved Books Too Much
A therapist friend of mine was recently surprised to learn that booksellers are functioning as advisors, counselors and advocates. By the term bookseller, (as opposed to the clerks who sometimes replace them) I mean people employed and professionally engaged in bookselling as a career. As a group they have long been acknowledged as purveyors of millions of bits of unrelated facts and figures, theories and theorems, while individually being as fanatically informed about some tiny aspect of esoteric knowledge as any tenured professor.
With the decline of public education, the budget woes of traditional libraries, the rise of big box retailers like Barnes and Noble and Borders, the closing (partially due to the internet) of over 4,000 new and used bookstores across the country, the remaining independent bookshops stand as beacons of knowledge not yet looted and burned by the raging barbarian hordes. Hyperbole aside, the fact remains that intellectuals and citizens alike recognize the bookstore as a place of knowledge. We can bemoan the fact that many of us now seek solace in a commercial, for-profit institution. But as a culture, with the bookstore, we seem to have found a place where intellectuals can meet their equals and the average person need not feel uncomfortable or intimidated as they might in a library and where, more importantly, the bookseller exists as a filter, sorting through the endless, overwhelming information available on-line and elsewhere.
It is from sheer need that booksellers, through conversations and comparisons, acquaint themselves with the best and most helpful books in categories such as personal growth, recovery and psychology. In discussions with practitioners of both traditional and non-traditional healing modalities, they discover authors and books deemed the most relevant or most helpful and share that information with their customers. For many, booksellers are the first to assure these seekers that they are not alone and sometimes because the bookseller is not a friend or family member, he or she can listen more effectively and, by listening, validate a decision to talk to or engage a professional, be it a counselor, therapist or body worker.
This sometimes puts the Bookseller in contact with people undergoing the most heartbreaking experiences who come to the bookstore for those important first steps towards recovery, acceptance or healing. Others are seeking a more intermediate or advanced level of knowledge. And for some, their journeys and endings only serve to begin new and different quests. But everyone no matter what their level benefits from a guide. And for this reason the bookseller has found a most happy and useful niche as a literary Sherpa, an advocate adaptable to individuals’ needs as they seek guidance in their exploration of self-knowledge.
We should not forget that Booksellers are in business to make a profit by selling books but they are also a conduit though which information flows and a filter for those who require one. Profit aside, they do not intend, nor would it be prudent, to replace therapists and body workers with personal growth books and shiatsu manuals. Booksellers do help people by contributing toward their futures and, over the years, sharing in their setbacks and successes. They help by disseminating knowledge, actively listening and engaging people, allowing them to tell their stories, and to share and learn from the stories of others. This is the real joy of being an (Unofficial) Bibliotherapist Bookseller, the true intersection of advisor, counselor and advocate.
One of our book buyers, Ty Wilson, reviews some of his favorite books.
The Last Supper: A Summer in Italy
by Rachel Cusk
Novelist Cusk has delivered a memorably lyrical but eminently readable and unsentimental account of her open-ended Italian holiday. Having put the house up for sale and packed up her two daughters and husband, she takes the reader on a closely-observed, often sharp-tongued, tour of destinations both on and off the Grand Tour track. Whether washed up on a crowded beach in Capri or off into a smaller museum in an indifferent Rome, our guide reliably manages to draw something emphatic and often moving from her surroundings. Which is all a tourist (or armchair traveller) could hope for.
Carpenter has carved out of her inner-city wilderness a surprisingly bountiful garden and a compelling, even inspiring, chronicle of a year on a squatted corner lot in Oakland. Calling it a garden spot sells it short, however, as she slowly introduces chickens, then turkeys, rabbits, and, finally, two pigs into the mix. But don't settle on the notion that this is a doe-eyed pastorale come true; too many abandoned cars and brandished pistols intrude, not to mention the theft or violent death of long-nurtured veggies and birds. But the setbacks are no match for Carpenter's agile spirit and resourcefulness. Add to that the author's solid writing chops (she studied under Michael Pollan) and you have an unusual back-to-the-earth tale with some real grit.
Our Petaluma Used & Rare Store Manager, Art Kusnetz, writes about books.
Working in a used bookstore one becomes intimate with the micro-trends of the day-- what’s hot and, when everyone starts unloading a particular subject, what’s not. Sometimes those micro-trends go macro. In the years leading up to 9-11, there was a noticeable interest in metaphysics, especially Wicca, a longing for the divine feminine and a growing dissatisfaction with the modern lifestyle. Post 9-11, the trend involved a return to traditional values and forms of religion. Many found that, surprisingly, those same traditions had evolved to embrace or at least acknowledge the sacred feminine and the concept of sustainability.
Presently, I see a return to intellectualism, curiosity and the long view. Along with interest in the energies of visualization, friendship and community, there is a new found hope and belief in the magic of possibility. Here are a few books that illustrate elements of these trends: