Ah, miPeople, I’ve got a problem. A consumption situation having to do with books. I can’t stop bringing them home. Yes, they require slightly less caretaking than kittens, so there’s that, but they do need to have space made. Although once you’re done, you can pass them along to others—definitely not a thing you can do with kittens. Redlands is littered with Little Free Library’s, those wonderful wooden houses outside of homes and businesses where books are given and taken. I’ve done my share of dropping off and picking up. My latest acquisition, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe is something I somehow didn’t manage to read during my journalism days, even though the curriculum was nutty with Wolfe-ian new journalism moments. The cool thing about these little structures is that each have a general theme regarding the genres offered—I don’t know if they mean to, or if the books all just scurry around after dark looking for their kindreds. The one on San Gorgonio Drive caters to the littles—the twelve and under set. I picked up A Judy Bolton Mystery: The Forbidden Chest by Margaret Sutton (circa 1953) over the summer because it reminded me of the beloved Nancy Drew’s I consumed as a pre-teen. I then felt a little guilty that I was possibly depriving another curious age-appropriate person from grabbing it. I may returned it after I’ve relived my girl-sleuth days.

The lil’ library outside the Olive Avenue Market coffeehouse features a lot, a lot, a lot of textbooks. Yep, students shedding things that were so last semester while grabbing soy lattes and oatmeal chais. There’s the religious-slash-self-help receptacle on Cypress Ave. with a more pop-centric selection (where I got Tom) catercorner. They wink at each other, the one trying to give advice to the other. The other rolling its eyes. And then there’s the actual real AK Smiley Library, a most beautiful structure that also has a friends of the library bookstore downstairs where you can buy books with the money going to support the library. It’s closed right now due to the COVID, saving me a few dollars. All these moments are catnip and even though I’ve still got Christmas book booty to read along with an entire shelf of loot I transported from NYC, still I carry on picking things up here and there. My virtual shopping cart for the nearest indie bookstore in Riverside has a few things in it, my LIBBY and Cloud Library accounts have selections on the shelf waiting for checkout. When do I think I’ll read these? Well, actually, given the evenings of our Covid era have been pretty blissfully free, I’m making some nice headway. But still. I’ve. Got. A. Lot. Of. Very. Good. Books. to read.

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I used to be a gal who read seasonally, meaning I liked to have a big book that would last me throughout a three-month span. In the fall of 1986, I’d been in NYC for two years and had just started interning at Rolling Stone. My book was Anna Karenina. Loved it! Fashion, furniture, passion, and some bigger themes too. Total disappear-into type of book and an excellent contrast to the view outside the bus window on my rides home to the Lower East Side (I enjoyed the bus, and in a different way, the subway, but I usually split up my MTA choices morning and eve). Speaking of Tolstoy, in the summer of 1999, I was reading War and Peace when I ended up in the hospital. Obviously I was desperate to know when I’d get sprung. When I asked the doc, he said, “before you’re done with your book.” I was only halfway through. Believe me when I say that at that moment I wished I’d been reading a pamphlet on bird watching. (Suffice, I was only there for a couple of chapters, but whenever I’d look at that book on my shelf it would always remind me of that stay. I’ve given that book away.) Another NYC formative book was Metropolitan Life by Fran Lebowitz. (And if you click the link on that title, you’ll see why I shouldn’t have given away my hardcover edition. Holy cow.) This particular tome made me realize I had come to the right city. For those who don’t know Fran and her amazing caustic Dorothy Parker-meets-Oscar Wilde wit, there’s a Netflix Martin Scorsese doc Pretend It’s a City, which is a great crash course in her. In it she talks about her passion for books. That she owns over 10,000 of these bound adventures and they all live with her in a West Village apartment. When I heard that, I didn’t feel so, er, vast about my collection. And when she talks about how she can’t throw away a book, I can relate. That’s why those Little Free Library’s are the thing.

When I worked at the Hearst tower in the land of magazines, a ton, a literal ton, of books would be delivered to various editors for them to consider. We had a giveaway table—maybe more like a nook area in the pantry—where the castoffs would end up. So. many. books. would end up there. A good many of them would end up under my desk waiting to go through the do-I-really-want-to-carry-these-on-the-subway method of culling that would determine which would make the journey home. Books are bulky. A lot of us were excited about that giveaway nook. People would travel from floor to floor perusing the various giveaway options. The Oprah floor was hands down the best, altho my pass didn’t get me access to that space so I’d have to wait for their semi-annual sale. I knew I could avoid the Road & Track floor but Harper’s Bazaar had a nice selection of how-to (makeup, nutrition, fashion, relationship-snagging) stuff. My friend Diane was very talented at lining up books in the giveaway area that would make you laugh. You’d be waiting for your coffee to drip out of the machine and stare at a row of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, I’ll Be Happy When, You Are a Badass, Get Out of My Head. She was very good at this and I miss those moments. I also wonder where all the book deliveries are ending up now that no one is going into the office. My best scores were multiple copies of Fleishman Is In Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Akner that I gave to as many friends as I could. People either loved it or went meh (I loooved. still do.). Also Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid was a great grab.

Jeezuz, I could go on and on about the power of stories and reading. How everywhere we travel, we scout out the bookstores (hands-down, best area I’ve been to so far for books is Óbidos, Portugal, mainly because the town was declared a UNIESCO “City of Literature” in December 2015, and is silly with innovative ways to present books: a church, a wine store, a hotel). But suffice to say that during these times of trauma and drama and hopes and dreams, disasters, delights, do-overs, and decisions, a book is a swell companion for escape, knowledge, and just plain fun. Now that we can see into everyone’s living room via Zoom, the book I’m seeing a lot of is Obama’s newest A Promised Land. Dennis just started it last night and it’s one of those big, boomin’ seasonal-size books. Maybe it will be my springtime.

I’d love to know what has taken you away lately (or what you’re looking forward to).