Yard Sale Finds

Oh my.....I disappeared there for a while.  I am preparing to move and seem to spend more time putting things in boxes and then digging through the boxes looking for those same things, than reading these days.  Last week, Sara and I held a yard sale.  While gathering books for the sale, I came upon some old favorites that have been sitting on my shelves for a few years.  If you haven't read these books, I highly recommend them......

Peace Like a River by Leif Enger.  This one has been on my list of favorites forever.  This story of the adventures of 12 year old Reuben Land, his sister, Swede and his father, as they seek his older brother who is on the run from the law has both beautiful writing and unforgettable characters.  I am especially fond of  Swede, who writes epic poetry and sees the world in a unique way.  Minnesota and South Dakota come to frigid life in this story that will stay with you long after you close the book.

Excellent Women by Barbara Pym.  Or really anything by Barbara Pym.  If you can't sleep, the writing of Barbara Pym will send you into a quiet English world where spinsters make cups of tea and the biggest scandal is that the vicar gave a hearth rug to an attractive widow. When I took this book off the shelf, some of the pages fell out from age and re-reading.  The worlds depicted in these books are very small, yet you become fond of the characters and their self-effacing ways.  The modern world occasionally sneaks in with the introduction of an atheist anthropologist or a charming neighbor, but for the most part, life is calm and measured. 

Finny by Justin Kramon.  I love looking on my shelf to see the bright yellow cover of this wonderful story written by my very first employee at The Open Book. Finny is the kind of girl who does not make life easy, and in response, life hands her a few real challenges.  The story of the relationship between Finny and Earl is genuine.  The supporting cast of characters are what make the book so special to me.  Earl's piano-playing, narcoleptic father and Poplan, the boarding school matron who becomes a kind of substitute mother to Finny are drawn with care and detail.  Much more than a coming of age story.......


So....eventually we will get back to the Appalachian trail and some reviews of newer books. In the meantime, scan your shelves for some old favorites and revisit them.  Or swap some of your best loved books with friends (ones you can trust to give them back!).  And whatever you are reading, don't forget to keep those pages turning.

Blame it on Bill Bryson

It is all Bill Bryson’s fault. 

During the summer of 2006, several of booksellers at The Open Book read A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. For those of you who have not yet read this book, go buy it or take it out from the library immediately.  Bryson has a wry sense of humor and a self-deprecating way of describing the great adventure of hiking the Appalachian Trail with his out-of–shape, overweight buddy, Katz. While reflecting on the beauty of this great trail which wanders from Georgia through Maine, he also captures the voices of the unusual, annoying and hilarious people he meets along the way.

A few of us began to talk about the book.  If Bill Bryson and Katz could undertake the AT,  we could surely tackle a few miles.  So it came about that a motley crew of people whose exercise consisted mostly of lifting a few book boxes and turning some pages, planned a trip to Vermont to take on the great challenge of the trail.  We ordered books and maps and poured over them…..we were booksellers, we knew how to research.  We decided that the best we could do with the three days we had was to hike the part of the Long Trail that would take us over Stratton Mountain.  Really…..we thought this would be a good idea.

So very early one morning in October, Jessica, Seamus, Robby, Christian, Jocelyn and I met up at the store with backpacks, tents and sleeping bags.  We double checked that we had food and basic supplies.  We tried to jettison Jocelyn’s teddy bear, but it made the trip despite our protests.  Robby and Christian, teenage boys to their bones, packed the two cars, crawled in and immediately fell asleep.  We were off.

My blue minivan and Jessica's red jeep played tag as we headed north.  With very few stops we arrived at the trail head at about 2pm.  The plan that day was to take the short route around the lake, stay the night and then come back over the mountain the next day.  Shortly after we started we realized that trails were getting steeper.  We were heading over the mountain. And then it started to rain. 

We stumbled on through the mud and reached the summit just as it was growing dark.  Christian and Robby had leapt ahead and were sitting at the top of the fire tower singing Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" in perfect harmony.  I was covered in mud, exhausted and I wanted to throttle their healthy, young bodies.  Jess had twisted her knee and Seamus was carrying her pack.  We thought we might pitch our tents and call it a day.

A park ranger appeared out of nowhere and informed us that we could not spend the night on the top of the mountain.  We would have to head down the other side and find the shelter that was "not too far away".  So as night fell and the rain fell we headed down the trail.  And then I fell and fell again, tripping over logs in the dark, covering myself in mud and wet leaves.  Robby grabbed my arm and Christian blazed a trail.  We heard a growl in the woods to our right.  Robby pulled out what looked like a samurai sword from God knows where and promised to protect me from the bear.  This really wasn't fun anymore.

Finally, Seamus, the voice of sanity, said in his lovely Irish accent that it was time to find a place to pitch the tents before one of us broke our arses.  So we found a clearing and pitched two tents, one for Seamus and Jess and one for Jocelyn, Robby, Christian and me.  We rolled our sleeping bags out in exhaustion and tried to light little stoves and cook something for dinner.  Jessica, brilliant Jessica,  had brought the makings for gin and tonics and despite a little rainwater it was the best thing I ever tasted.  Some chewy spaghetti was dinner and we all crawled into bed.  Robby was assigned to kill any bears.  Christian realized that he was sleeping in a two-inch deep puddle and he did not care.  We slept.

In the morning, the rain had let up a bit.  We crawled out of the tents... muddy, bruised and exhausted.  Our campsite was beautiful.  We were grateful for this clearing that had sheltered us through the night.  Christian said he was surprised that there were not more campers in this perfect spot.  Robby pointed to a sign on a tree and said "Maybe that's why".  The sign read "Absolutely no camping.  Violators will be fined up to $500."  We packed up quickly and hit the trail.


To be continued........