2010 – Page 28 – Lemuria Books

Year: 2010 (Page 28 of 45)

Magic Picture Box Books

On June 5, 2010

As I have been accommodating myself to the art books and getting familiar with the particular collections we have, the photography section has been a learning experience. My knowledge being somewhat limited in the area, I have gone through most of them trying to gain a personal grasp on the subject. I have found it to be such a great medium for a book, as paper is a photograph’s original medium…usually. Because of this you can observe the pieces at a closer proximity in a book than with a collections of photographs of sculptures or paintings. The only modifications being in scale and presentation. This is a great draw for me in the bookstore, while the other books get me excited and make me want to go to the Louvre and see all of the wonderful works in person (which is pretty cool), the photograph collections allow me to be more content in observing the pieces on the couch. My investigations have produced several favorites. In no particular order:

Put out by a father son collaboration from two giants in photography. This is a magnificent collection of probably the sexiest pictures of a desert that you could ever witness. It is incredible how they read the landscape for those natural curves. Capturing the essence of a sensual line in a pile of sand is no small feat. It takes an understanding of form and structure of the human body as well as landscapes and how we as humans perceive these forms. Through their eyes we see an arid desert as living flesh. Incredible.

This next one is by Bruce Davidson in the vein of photojournalism; he gives a view into the heart of the circus in the middle of the last century. The first half follows a dwarf in his work at the carnival in 1958. They are powerful photos that make you feel as though you are looking into the man’s soul as he goes about his days in this foreign world. The second half is a return to the circus in 1965 and his following of the Ringling Brothers and the Barnum & Bailey Circus, and the James Duffy and Sons circus of 1967. It is a strong eye through which we can see these acrobats and human cannonballs.

This last one I remember putting on the shelf after we received it. Immediately I was struck by the cover and the incredible formal construction of the photograph. I proceeded to flip through every page with my jaw on the floor. Nick Brandt went to Africa with his camera and commenced with a photo shoot of wild beasts as his models; and they perform in front of the camera as if they were highly trained supermodels, veterans of Vogue and Vanity Fair. Every photograph seems to be a career-maker. They are Beautiful.

-John P.

I have been ignoring my husband for the past two weeks….(for The Passage by Justin Cronin)

By Former Lemurians

On June 4, 2010

In Mystery

It has really been unintentional…this ignoring of my husband but it really couldn’t be helped. I was completely engrossed in Justin Cronin’s, The Passage, which is coming out on June 8. Joe mentioned in his blog about BEA that he was reading this and had actually met Justin Cronin and that sparked my memory that I had this book in my stack. I picked the book up and thought to myself…”do I really want to invest my time in this 704 page novel by an author I have never read that is about the end of civilization as I know it and a little girl who is the key to saving it?” Well after investing my time the past two weeks I’m now saying to myself….”I’m so glad I did and cannot wait for my customers to read this!”

I will start by saying that I have not really jumped on the “vampire bandwagon” so I was very wary that I would not like this book but as I continued to turn the page I realized that this novel is so much more than that. The “virals” as they are called are not your hipster, gelled hair, angst driven vampires of today nor are they the Count Dracula type. These creatures are the result of a government experiment to create “super soldiers” that have escaped from the underground lab where they were created. At the center of the story is Amy–a six year old girl who is totally connected to “The Twelve” and maybe the key to bringing civilization back to the way that we know it, or close anyway.

Dan Chaon (one of my favorites) author of Among the Missing and Await Your Reply wrote a great review of The Passage and what he said is exactly how I felt about this book:

“There is a particular kind of reading experience–the feeling you get when you can’t wait to find out what happens next, you can’t turn the pages fast enough, and yet at the same time you are so engaged in the world of the story and the characters, you don’t want it to end. It’s a rare and complex feeling–that plot urgency pulling you forward, that yearning for more holding you back. We say that we are swept up, that we are taken away. Perhaps this effect is one of the true magic tricks that literature can offer to us, and yet it doesn’t happen very often. Mostly, I think, we remember this experience from a few of the beloved books of our childhood.

About three-quarters of the way through The Passage, I found myself in the grip of that peculiar and intense readerly emotion. One part of my brain couldn’t wait to get to the next big revelation, and I found myself wanting to leapfrog from paragraph to paragraph, hurtling toward each looming climax. Meanwhile, another part of my brain was watching the dwindling final pages with dread, knowing that things would be over soon, and wishing to linger with each sentence and character a little while longer.”

Believe the hype…is really all I can say about this one!!! It’s just that good especially if you are wanting a page turner that you just can’t stop reading!! The best thing is that The Passage is just the beginning! This is the first of a trilogy and I can tell you that I’m already on the list to get the ARC of the second book!!

My poor husband . . .

The Myths Series

By Former Lemurians

On June 3, 2010

In Fiction

by Kelly Pickerill

I recently read The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ by Philip Pullman, and when I was finished, because I read books from cover to cover (reading the acknowledgments, the “note about the font,” and even glancing at the Library of Congress info) (I know, I’m a nerd), I saw at the end that it’s the latest book in The Myths series.

“Myths are universal and timeless stories that reflect and shape our lives,” the last page of the book reads, “they explore our desires, our fears, our longings and provide narratives that remind us what it means to be human. The Myths series brings together some of the world’s finest writers, each of whom has retold a myth in a contemporary and memorable way.”

Books in the series include Karen Armstrong’s A Short History of Myth, Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad, Alexander McCall Smith’s Dream Angus, and Jeanette Winterson’s Weight. There are 14 books in all, and I’d like to collect all of them, so I started the other day by picking up Atwood’s and Winterson’s books at Lemuria.

Atwood’s novel, The Penelopiad, is essentially The Odyssey from Penelope’s point of view. In the book you witness first-hand the raucous events that went on at Odysseus’s house while he was away, and if you think the end of the Odyssey, with Odysseus saving the day disguised as a beggar and doling out a gruesome end for those smarmy suitors, is exciting, you may be interested in getting into Penelope’s head as she’s waiting, weaving, and plotting, and finding out what she really thinks of Odysseus’s triumphant return.

I am almost done with Winterson’s book, Weight, about Atlas and Heracles. Atlas has to hold up the world as punishment, Heracles has to do the god’s bidding as punishment, and when they decide to swap punishments, they find out some interesting things about themselves.

As I was reading The Good Man Jesus, I thought about what Pullman was trying to say about Jesus’s message. He is an atheist, and in the introduction he says that above all, his novel is a story about how stories become stories. The Jesus in his novel says a lot of the same things that are recorded in the Bible, but some of his words are twisted by his brother, Christ, to be prophetic of a kingdom of God on earth. In the chapter where Jesus prays in the garden of Gethsemane, he asks God where he is, admitting that he’s never heard his voice or seen his hand in anything he’s done, though evidence of God’s existence is all around him in the beauty of the world. He wonders aloud whether his brother, Christ, was right, that it would be good to start a church to usher in the kingdom, then ruminates on all the things that can go wrong when a body of men who believe they are doing the will of God have the power of God behind them. He finishes his prayer by asking God one thing above all: “That any church set up in your name should remain poor, and powerless, and modest. That it should wield no authority except that of love. That it should never cast anyone out. That it should own no property and make no laws. That it should not condemn, but only forgive.”

One of the great things about The Myths series is that, at the outset, each author is asked simply to rewrite a myth. They are able to choose the myth and the approach, whether to modernize the themes, and whether to inject their own philosophies into the story. Check them out. When I get ahold of some of the others, I’ll let you know.

Kate DiCamillo and Handselling

By Former Lemurians

On June 3, 2010

In Staff Blog

This year, Kate DiCamillo was honored with the 2010 Indies Choice Award “Most Engaging Author.” I personally voted for her and I was pretty excited to hear that she had won. I love The Magician’s Elephant and The Tale of Despereaux. I also love showing them to new readers everyday. In her acceptance speech, Kate praised booksellers and the wonder of handselling. It kind of made me tear up, so I thought I would share it with y’all.

“When I was in second grade, I fell in love with Abraham Lincoln.

The Clermont Elementary School library had a series of books called Notable Young Americans. And in this way, through these books, I met George Washington and Helen Keller, Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Edison, Amelia Earhart and Booker T. Washington.

I met them and I liked them.

But it wasn’t until Abraham Lincoln that I fell in love.

Something about his story (the poverty, the death of his mother, his love of words and books) resonated with me, moved me. I came home from school and told my mother everything that I had learned about the young Abraham Lincoln. I told her that I wanted to learn more.

My mother took me to the Cooper Memorial Library in downtown Clermont. They had there many books about Honest Abe, but there was nothing for a reader my age. And so my mother checked out a thick volume on the life of Abraham Lincoln written for adults. The text was impenetrable. After a few pages, I gave up on it and contented myself with looking at photographs of the man, his sad and hopeful face.

That year, for my eighth birthday, my mother gave me a hardcover biography of Lincoln called Meet Abraham Lincoln by Barbara Cary. It was written at my reading level. There were wonderful illustrations, and I was smitten with the man anew.

Where had my mother found that book? At Porter’s Stationery and Gifts in Eustis, Florida. Eustis was the next town over from Clermont, thirty miles away. At Porter’s, they had looked for a book about Lincoln that was at my reading level and they had special-ordered it for my mother, for me.

Also, they had told my mother that there was another book I might like. It was called The Cricket in Times Square. And so, in addition to a book about a poor, lonely boy who went on to be come president of the United States, I also received the story of a small cricket who loves music, a cricket who sings so beautifully that people stop to listen.

Who was that bookseller who thought, “Here is an almost-eight-year-old girl who loves Abraham Lincoln. What other book will she love? Oh, yes. This book about a cricket.”?

There was nothing logical about that decision. It was a leap of faith.

Those two books changed me.

Together, they cemented an idea in my eight-year-old heart. That idea was this: It doesn’t matter how small, how lonely, how broken or sad or poor you are. There is a way to make yourself heard. There is a way to sing.

A bookseller put those books into my mother’s hands, and my mother put them into mine.

Sometimes we forget that this simple, physical gesture can change lives.

I want to remind you that it does.

I want to thank you because it did.”

– Kate DiCamillo

May 26, 2010

A Guest Blog by M.O. Walsh

By Former Lemurians

On June 2, 2010

In Southern Fiction

Moving Forward With My Head Turned Back: Why I’m So Pumped to Read at Lemuria

Here’s the deal.

I grew up in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, but spent most of my life nearly positive that the two kindest people in the world lived in Jackson, Mississippi. Well, they lived in Jackson first and then Brandon, although they never moved. It seemed instead that Lakeland Drive simply turned from some dusty stretch of potholes into a thick and black electrical cord, plugging downtown Jackson into the folks out near the Ross Barnett Reservoir, many of whom, once juiced, said, “Wait a second, we moved out here for a reason!” I think they (the royal “they” and not my grandparents in particular) even kicked up enough dust to have the address officially changed in order to clear up any confusion that they might live in a place that had crime, litter, and interstates. I’m no Jacksonian scholar, though, so this could be wrong. All I know is that my clumsily printed birthday cards to “Maw Maw Rebie” and “Paw Paw Milton” started coming back returned if I wrote Jackson, MS, and not Brandon. And so it strikes me now that the Mississippi P.O. may have been my first editor.

Anyway, a few things about these saints: my grandfather, Milton Walsh, was a retired oil and gas man and my grandmother, Rebie Walsh, was an artist. Both were insane golfers. My grandfather, I believe, could have gone pro if he had any interest in competing. He seemed more interested in telling knock-knock jokes in the rough areas around the green, though, and talking sincerely with strangers in the clubhouse. Still, he was the only man I ever knew who could shoot his age on the golf course. This is no small deal. My grandmother was skilled, too, but also disinterested in the competition. She’s instead spent the second half of her life throwing herself whole hog into any artist endeavor she could find; oil painting, drawing, paper-making and, once she got past seventy, memoir writing. To be honest, she was pretty damn good at most of this stuff; and a few of her works now hang out in storage areas of Mississippi museums, some future call to relevance not impossible.

But whenever I would visit them as a child during hot summers they’d lay aside every personal pursuit to entertain me. For years it was the zoo. Then the water park by the Reservoir. That old toy store right off I-55. As I grew up, though, all three of us felt the shine of these places wear off and we searched for new avenues of connection. I began duffing around the links with my grandfather. We ate at every new restaurant they could find (nearly always Mexican, though I had no idea why). Then, my grandmother noticed how much I was reading; often slinking off to my bedroom to flip through comic books as a kid, Stephen King novels as a teenager, and then starting to scribble some of my own ideas down as a young man, and she told about this place called “Lemuria”. I was immediately interested. For those in the know; this word glowed to me like Araby.

So, we went, and the next ten years of my life were some of the best. Every visit to Jackson was punctuated by a trip to Lemuria and lunch at the sandwich shop below. I’d gone through college and a graduate degree in literature at this point and eventually moved to Oxford, MS, for an MFA at Ole Miss. Every few months I’d stop in Jackson on my drive back down to Baton Rouge to go to Lemuria with my grandparents. And as my personal reading tastes were now coming into their own, my appreciation for this amazing bookstore multiplied. I got past the stacks and asked permission into the locked room of collectibles with my grandmother in tow. I carefully handled books that cost more than I would make that entire semester on my graduate stipend. Still, with her help, I began my modest collection, buying things like first edition Barry Hannah’s and a first edition of Rock Springs, by Richard Ford. I knew at those moments, more than ever before, what I wanted to do with my life.

And, during this time, I also got lucky. I had a few stories published in anthologies like Blue Moon Café and French Quarter Fiction that allowed me, as a doofus in his late twenties, to read and sign books at Lemuria. I was, of course, humbled and felt a fraud. Still, my grandparents attended these casual events in nice clothes and I remember Rebie taking about thirty pictures of me as I just sat at a table with some other writers, signing stock. I was not embarrassed by this, though it was embarrassing. I loved them and understood that they loved me. But when her pictures came back, all blurry, every one of them, almost unrecognizable, I knew that I wouldn’t have much longer to spend with them. And I was right.

Gone five years from us now (Rebie passing of a broken heart a year after losing Milton), I was already at work on the stories that now appear in my book The Prospect of Magic when they died. One of the stories in the collection, The Freddies, I began writing in that very same bedroom in Brandon, Mississsippi, on the day of my grandfather’s funeral. In the months that followed that event, while editing the story, I found myself trying to talk my grandmother into reasons to keep going. Her health was failing, her house was empty, and I knew I was waging a losing battle. Still, I’d say things to her like, “You can’t go anywhere. I want you to be there for my wedding, for when I have a kid, for when I get a book out and read at Lemuria.”

And it likely seems improbable to most that a bookstore event would be listed alongside things like birth and marriage; but it wasn’t for us. We’d discovered something cool about one another (as people and not just kin) among the stacks at Lemuria and we both knew it. And even as I type this I can remember the smell of their station wagon as we drove the long stretch up Lakeland Drive, from Castlewoods to Banner Hall, to the bookstore, and I remember the rosary lying in the small change cup by the automatic stick shift.

All this to say that I was lucky to have them then like I am lucky to have them now. And, although neither Milton or Rebie will be in attendance when I do get the chance to read and sign from my own book at Lemuria on Wednesday, June 9th, I’ll imagine her snapping photos of me the whole time, him fumbling with a golf tee in his pocket, both happy to be back in Jackson and smiling, like I am.

M. O. Walsh’s website

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender

By Former Lemurians

On June 1, 2010

In Fiction

it’s the day before your ninth birthday and you mother is baking a practice birthday cake in preparation for tomorrow. you take your first bite and instead of tasting your all time favorite, lemon cake, you taste your mother’s sadness. thus begins a lifetime of being able to taste peoples emotions in the food that they prepare. imagine being able to taste your mother’s affair in the dinners she cooks, your brothers disappearance in the toast he fixes for you.

aimee bender has recently grabbed my attention and my heart. this was the first book of hers that i read and i am now on a huge bender kick.

Deep Blues by Robert Palmer

By John

On May 31, 2010

In Blues

Deep Blues: A Musical and Cultural History, from the Mississippi Delta to Chicago’s South Side to the World

by Robert Palmer

Viking Penguin (1981)

Browsers in our music section often say, “I want to read about the Blues, where do I start?” Always a good choice is Palmer’s Deep Blues. This little paperback is so readable and yet continuously informative – every page seems to have an unexpected folk-social history fact tucked in the text.

In 1903, the first descriptions of black music in the Delta were published in the Journal of American Folklore. From this point, Palmer describes the musical influence from Africa as it migrated into Delta culture, placing emphasis on how folk polyrhythms played such an important part in the development of Mississippi Blues (this section surely was one of my favorites, as Palmer featured interesting narratives on hand drumming).

From Dockery Plantation, to the early 1920s and 30s recordings, to Mighty Mojo Muddy From Stovall, Palmer writes a who’s who of Delta Music. With ease he explains how all the players were influenced by the music and each other, fitting in together and creating a Delta way of life. From the Delta, to Chicago in the 40s, through the Chess’n of the 50s Blues Gods – not leaving out King Biscuit Time or Memphis and all the pathways in between – Palmer clearly explains it all.

All the major players appear with jigsaw puzzle perfection explained in time, influence, and place. Palmer chronicles how major songs, bands, record labels and communities grew from the Delta blues, thus having a major impact on the world music scene.

Deep Blues has a chapter-by-chapter discography and bibliography to further guide the reader. Unfortunately, Robert Palmer passed away in 1997. A 30-year updated anniversary edition would be so interesting – a very good excuse for a reread.

Vacation Reading

By admin

On May 30, 2010

In Staff Blog

May was a really busy month at the bookstore and I feel like these past few days our blog has become a way for all the booksellers at Lemuria to keep up with each other. Some of us on vacation and some of us at the great book conference in NYC and thankfully, some left to run the store. Well, I just came back from the mountains in North Carolina. To sum it up bluntly, this vacation pretty much kicked my butt. A lot of that has to do with Graybeard Mountain (elev. 5650). The expression on my face was the closest thing to a smile I could muster once we reached the top. I’ll actually be ready to go back to work on Tuesday.

Back to books, I took along two bags of books for me and my sweetie. Here’s what I dipped into:

The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman: I liked it a lot. Very pleasant, good dialogue, laugh-out-loud sections, a really neat book. I did not gush, however. See Kelly’s blog on this. This is a great book for vacation.

The Glass Room by Simon Mawer: Gorgeous. Thanks for the suggestion, Nan. I am still not done with this one. But I can tell you that this novel has a little bit of everything: delicious prose, subtle eroticism, intrigue . . . also a great book to take on vacation.

The World Has Changed: Conversations with Alice Walker edited by Rudolph P. Byrd: This collection of interviews with Alice Walker helps the reader to get a good overall sense of Alice’s writing. I admit that I have shied away from some of her work. This books explains “the why” behind much of her writing and opens the door for the reader to pick up some lesser known novels. The title of this interview collection comes from a poem Alice wrote in 2008. Before I opened the book, I took the title in the negative sense. It is not. The poem reminds us of the strength we have to change ourselves and the world around us.

The world has changed:
This does not mean that
You were never
Hurt.
The world
Has changed:
Rise!
Yes
&
Shine!
Resist the siren
Call
Of
Disbelief.
The world has changed:
Don’t let
Yourself
Remain
Asleep
To
It.

Shakespeare and Company

By Former Lemurians

On May 29, 2010

In Staff Blog

I mentioned in my last post that I was on vacation in France. I had the good fortune of spending a day in Paris and visiting the famous Shakespeare and Company bookstore. If you can’t get to Paris this summer, here’s a few pics.

Matterhorn: The Story Behind the Pick

By admin

On May 28, 2010

In Fiction

It was Friday, February 26th and the call came from Morgan Entrekin of Grove/Atlantic informing John that the press was almost sold out of first editions of Matterhorn prior to the March 23rd release date. At that point, the novel was already in its 6th printing. The initial print run at Grove/Atlantic was between 80,ooo and 100,000 after being bought from the small nonprofit press El Leon in 2007.

We needed to make our decision quickly to ensure first editions for the May First Editions Club selection. Joe’s reading of Matterhorn settled any ambiguity and Lemuria geared up for an event in May with debut novelist Karl Marlantes, the Yale graduate and Rhodes Scholar who also earned the Navy Cross, the Bronze Star, two Navy Commendation medals for valor, two Purple Hearts, and ten air medals for his service as a marine in the Vietnam War.

Despite the buzz in the book world about Matterhorn, Joe had already gotten a unique impression of Karl Marlantes from an article in the January 25th edition of Publisher’s Weekly and he decided to post the article in February on Lemuria’s blog. What struck Joe about the article was how neatly Karl explained why he writes, and in doing so he referenced his experience of reading Eudora Welty’s Delta Wedding:

“Ultimately, the only way we’re ever going to bridge the chasms that divide us is by transcending our limited viewpoints. My realization of this came many years ago reading Eudora Welty’s great novel Delta Wedding. I experienced what it would be like to be a married woman on a Mississippi Delta plantation who was responsible for orchestrating one of the great symbols of community and love. I entered her world and expanded beyond my own skin and became a bigger person.”

Lisa and Karl at the Eudora Welty House, May 12, 2010

At the time, there was no way for Karl to realize what a unique impression his mention of Eudora Welty would make on readers in Jackson, Mississippi. Knowing his admiration for Eudora, we set up a tour of the Welty House with Eudora’s niece, Mary Alice Welty White.

Over the next three months, Joe’s blog posting became a way for Karl’s readers, long lost friends and acquaintances to connect and express their thoughts about Matterhorn and the Vietnam war. Many readers and book critics have expressed this notion: Matterhorn is the classic novel of the Vietnam war.

Billy Watkins of Jackson’s Clarion Ledger interviewed Karl about his novel but also turned toward his personal experience during the war and finally to the reception he received afterward. Karl said that during the ride from the airport after 400 days of service, his brother remarked: “‘I have to warn you, it’s not going to be real fun when we leave this area. A lot of people don’t like the war.’” Karl concluded the interview: “When this country goes to war, it uses 19-year-olds as weapons. They’re the best weapons we have. So if we’re going to use them, we’d better be damn sure that there is no other way to resolve the issue.”

After being subjected to more than thirty years of writing and revision, Karl’s novel has been compared to such classics as The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer and A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. The New York Times Book Review called Matterhorn “a raw, brilliant account of war that may well serve as a final exorcism for one of the most painful passages in American history”.

One of the featured recorded readings by Eudora Welty at the museum was about memory:

“Of course the greatest confluences of all is that which makes up the human memory–the individual human memory. My own is the treasure most dearly regarded me, in my life and in my work as a writer. Here time, also, is subject to confluence. The memory is a living thing–it too is in transit. But during its moment, all that is remembered joins, and lives–the old and the young, the past and the present, the living and the dead” (One Writer’s Beginnings, 104).

A veteran of any war never forgets his or her experience. Karl Marlantes courageously served his country on foot in Vietnam, but he also serves his country to this day by keeping his memories alive and creating fictional characters, allowing readers the opportunity to get under a soldier’s skin and deepen their understanding of humanity.

More Links for Matterhorn and Karl Marlantes

Video: On Writing Matterhorn for 30 Years

Video: Understanding Other Lives through Fiction

Lisa’s blog on reading Matterhorn

Joe’s blog on Karl’s article: Why I Write

Year: 2010 (Page 28 of 45)

Magic Picture Box Books

I have been ignoring my husband for the past two weeks….(for The Passage by Justin Cronin)

The Myths Series

Kate DiCamillo and Handselling

A Guest Blog by M.O. Walsh

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender

Deep Blues by Robert Palmer

Vacation Reading

Shakespeare and Company

Matterhorn: The Story Behind the Pick

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