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MISPLACED
April 15, 2007

Thirty years of doing this and there are still things that had never happened before.

It's a long and scattered day, made the moreso by my colleague Karen's leaving for a two-week vacation. It's a true busman's holiday she's heading for, going with her partner (an agent) to London for the Book Fair. Meanwhile, there are the 15-20 emails she's forwarded over: things to deal with, be aware of, follow through on. (I return the favor when I get away). But this day, right out of the chute, it's can-you-send-author-photo-and jpeg here and press materials there?  These are things Karen helps tend. I do my quick-handed best. It's going to be a long two weeks. Michael Upchurch, working the book beat at the Seattle Times, emails a correction on a June author's name we have in a preview listing. I write back that we had caught it, had sent out some materials earlier-than-usual (but also in haste) ... and mentioned my covering all-the-bases situation, by the end of which I am usually road kill. He wrote back that he was in the same boat, covering the various ends, loose and otherwise, while book editor Mary Ann Gwinn.

As evening approaches, I am tending many things. One that strikes me as a moment: I write notes to two different authors. One goes to Seattle poet Judith Roche - who will be reading at the store this evening. The other goes to former Senator Bill Bradley, who will be speaking for his new book at Town Hall the next night. The former is well-known locally - for many years she curated the Bumbershoot Festival's literary offerings - but not much beyond the local precincts. That's how it can go with poets, poetry books. Her reading, I know, will be spirited and good (she first read here over twenty years). With Bill Bradley, there is also some going back - not only as author and senator, but before, when he was a young pro basketball player, and I, an even younger Seattle Sonic ballboy, back in the very early days of their existence. Stories of THAT for another time, but it occurs to me as I jot a welcome note to him, that I first met him nearly forty years ago.

In lieu of being at Judith Roche's reading, I am hauling books out to the Green Lake branch of the Seattle Public Library. There'll be an authorless group discussion devoted to the citywide reading program initiated by the Seattle Library of Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake.

When it's about time to head that way, I assemble books (Jhumpa Lahiri books and others by South Asian writers about immigration and/or literary works), and make a note to myself about remembering a cash till. I go to fetch my car, needed for the hauling. In the car the radio is astir with word that Seattle Mariner pitcher Felix Hernandez has not only stolen the show from Boston Japanese pitching sensation Daisuke Matuszaka in the latter's home opener, he is pitching a no-hitter into the seventh inning. Wow.

Back to the store I run in, informing those interested of these developments, as I also ask after a till. That has to be retrieved - all the better for following the pitch-by-pitch progrress on a computer.

The money is then produced and out the door I go, off to this library branch, radio humming as the game gets later and later. The Mariners are batting in their half of the 8th. Only six more outs and Hernandez will have it.

Fifteen minutes later, Felix Hernandez has yielded a single - but nothing more. As impressive as getting seven full innings giving up no hits to a potent Boston lineup, he sounds even more impressive in not losing his composure after giving up the hit. The other thing that is happening is that I'm pulling up at the library ... and have a composure problem of my own.

I have brought money, but I haven't brought books. I have plain freaking forgotten them. Fortunately, there is time, traffic isn't bad, and there isn't a nervous actual author on hand, wondering if some wit will show up with their books. This has never happened before. Let us hope ...

Thirty minutes later, books are set out, assistance provided by a Library friend ... and bookseller is still trying to figure out how this happened. At least he wasn't driving on the London side of the road.

Posted by Rick Simonson on April 15, 2007 | Comments (0)