Dogged Devotion

As we wind down the month of Creepy Tales! readings, and begin to prepare for our November reading of Twain, dear P. and I are already thinking ahead. These October readings have been, by any estimation, a great experience. I got to read two Saki favorites that went over pretty well, and a story from the very talented work husband, that I hope was a surprise. (He and his charming boyfriend -- who was in on the secret -- seemed pleased, as did the audience. Good story.) My co-conspiritor and regular reading partner, P., read the hilarious Hell out of her ghost story, to the delight of everyone present. Got to listen to a story read expertly by Seattle Public Library's own David Wright, as our Very Special Guest Star. And our half dozen or more first-time-readers have all been uniformly great, as have been our small but loyal audiences. One more evening of Creep Tales! yet to go, and no reason not to think we will be ending things on a high note. It's been a scream, beginning to end. Safe to say, we want more.

Getting some of our fellow booksellers up and on their feet and reading aloud has been, for me, the best part of the whole experience. I've witnessed a few rehearsal readings, been surprised by others the-night-of, and been genuinely impressed by the selection and quality of the readings and eagerness of the readers throughout. Takes a lot of work to do this sort of thing well. Everyone involved has spent a great deal of their own time, energy and talent on reading, editing and performing these stories. I would be willing to bet that everyone who read enjoyed the experience. I know our audiences have. They've said so, and listening to everyone else read, I know I have. So it has been an admirable experiment in expanding and extending an opportunity that comes all too infrequently to the lovers of books; to hear and read our literature aloud, together, for just the pure pleasure of the thing. More people need to experience this.

Dear P. and I had been chattering about this between ourselves for quite a time before we finally undertook this series of supernatural stories for Halloween. We are both ol' hams, you see, and know just what fun it can be, reading aloud for an audience of family and friends, and yes, even a stranger or two. After we'd done a couple of these readings together, we were determined to do more, and we will. More than that though, the idea of opening up this business to others, to our coworkers specifically, seemed a natural extension of something we've both come to see as one of the most satisfying experiences available to us as booksellers. It may seem an unlikely avenue, but I'm convinced that the staffs of independent bookstores are full of book lovers who may never have considered expressing their enthusiasm, specially for the classics, in just this way. (Ask.) After all, almost every independent bookstore, of whatever size, features someone on staff doing this sort of thing regularly, for children's books. Accepted practice, and one of the remaining charms of independent stores. But we've lost the tradition though of reading aloud to our contemporaries, to our families and friends, to our neighbors and our customers of whatever age, of reading more complex and even difficult literature aloud. That's a damned shame. So much of our heritage in books is and ought to be shared, and one of the best ways to communicate what is best in our books is to read them aloud, in whole or in part, in poetry and prose, to anyone who will listen. Sometimes a secret power in story, in words, is only released when we loose them from the page; the community of readers needs the opportunity to experience this again, as adults, in community, and booksellers and librarians have a unique set of skills to bring to this kind of event; we know these books, and love them, as much or more than anyone in the world. Consider: using just such readings as a regular feature of their schedules, with a minimum of training and expense, independent bookstores present a unique opportunity to reach out to readers, to our customers and our communities, in celebration of the very best of what we love. Not an original idea, certainly, reading aloud -- actually, it is in it's way perhaps among the oldest of shared human artistic experiences -- but one my own experience at the bookstore where I work, and elsewhere, has convinced me is well worth taking up again. What have we got to lose?

Just when I was beginning to wonder what might be next, after Twain, and after my annual Christmas readings, Everyman's Library, bless 'em, may well have provided us with a perfect opportunity for another go. I've written here before about my enthusiasm for their recent series of short story anthologies, published for a very affordable price, in handsomely designed uniform editions, in small Pocket Classics format. My favorites in the series have all been edited by the remarkably astute and often surprising Diana Secker Tesdell, and now she's added another to the series, Dog Stories.

Who doesn't love dogs?

Now, dear P., herself the owner of two rather hilariously individual cats, though no enemy of the canine, protested before I could so much as get the suggestion out that we ought not to limit ourselves to reading stories only to do with dogs. "Animal stories," she suggested might allow for a more inclusive reading. I balked, not to say barked, at that. We certainly should give our feline friends their due, and I think an evening of cat stories would work just as well. Certainly, there would be no shortage of material. However, to date, Ms. Secker Tesdell has yet to produce such a volume, and in deference to the widely held suspicion of cats among the dogs of my acquaintance, I think we would do well to take up these tales, not so much in order of preference, as in turn. Dogs, I think, first, as we've been provided with a perfect excuse, and then cats. Nothing against the cats, you understand, nothing personal certainly. I've known both. I own neither presently, and so may safely express myself neutral in any debate.

I do trust to Ms. Secker Tesdell. Already I've read Bret Harte's and O. Henry's respective yellow dogs and think either might be great fun to read aloud. Thurber and Twain and Lethem are all here likewise well represented. As it stands right now, I think I should best enjoy reading either the Wodehouse selection, or more surprisingly, the perfect Rudyard Kipling story, "Garm." Excellent piece aloud, I'd bet. Anyway, there are lots of grand things from which to choose. Not like we don't have time to work all this out. When and what, after all, are all up to us.

It occurs to me that we might also incoperate some selections from the Pocket Poets volume, Doggerel from the same source as well.

We shall have to see about the cats. (I might do Saki's "Tobermory," after all, mightn't I?)

Meanwhile, I believe we may well have started something good for the bookstore, the booksellers, and the books, with all these readings. I hope we have the opportunity to keep going. I see the chance of something. Hope we don't lose it.