Hell is the absence of people you long for.Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven
Dune, by Frank Herbert (“Remedios”, F, 26, brown, maroon dress with gray cardigan, at Housing Works I Like Your Glasses event looking for “Jeremy Mars,” M, 26ish, blonde hair, glasses, dark gray dress jacket. We sat at the same table at the start (8-9) and I’d like to know what you were reading).Honorary Agent Remedios attended last night’s I Like Your Glasses: Literary Speed Dating at housingworksbookstore. If were assigned the name Jeremy Mars last night, please share what you were reading last night so we can pass it along to Honorary Agent Remedios! Spread the word NYC book-lovers, let’s make this book connection happen.
Please help, book lovers!
This is my favorite thing ever.
"Do you get off at the Grove Street stop? I’ve seen you there before."
It must be so great to have the level of deluded confidence it requires to completely ignore the fact that the person you’re talking to absolutely does not want to talk to you at all.
"Where do you work?"
If you are talking to me on the subway, and after every single word out of your mouth I immediately return to my book, don’t continue to talk to me.
"Where are you from?"
I did smile when you got on the train, in the way that I smile at anyone who questioningly looks at an open seat next to me on a fairly full train, and I am still midwestern after all. Smiles kind of tumble off of me like fall leaves from a tree. But truly, what a fascinating place your mind must be that when I give mumbly, half word answers to your questions, don’t look at you, bury myself in my book, or distract myself with the baby offering me its sippy cup, that you continue to ask me questions about where I live, what I do, where I work.
"Do you normally take the World Trade Center train?"
The truth is, I get scared when I get singled out like that on the subway, the sidewalk, where ever. There’s so much violent stuff going on right now in the world, that sometimes I am too damn scared to be anything but marginally polite to a man talking to me that I desperately want to go away.
"I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again after this!"
I got off the train, said I’m sure I’d see him around. Again, that fear and discomfort made me unable to confidently say anything else.
Thankfully, he went up a different stairwell than me, and I stood in the other stairwell, waiting for a good five minutes, wishing my phone wasn’t dead so someone could come meet me at my train stop.
Last year, Hilary, owner and Book Ninja here at Literati, proved she is an actual ninja when she witnessed an unarmed robbery and then aided in the apprehension of the suspect. This morning, she was awarded the Chief’s Civilian Award by the Ann Arbor Police Department in recognition of her assistance.
That’s right, folks. Bookstore people are also badass.
Bookstore people: what CAN’T they do? Congratulations Hilary!
WHAT?! Yes. What? So wonderful.
“We’re taught to find the antecedents to our adult failures in childhood traumas, and so we spend our lives looking backwards and pointing fingers, rather than bucking up and forging ahead. But what if your childhood was all a big misunderstanding? An elaborate ruse? What does that say about failure? Better yet, what does that say about potential?”
― Heidi Julavits, The Effect Of Living Backwards
McSweeney’s you are perfect and beautiful and I love you forever.