Damn Dog

I'm dog-sitting for Canadaboy, who's off visiting friends and family in yep, you guessed it, Canada.

Ollie, CanadaBoy's Welsh Corgi, and I get along pretty well most of the time. I first met him in mid-March, and just the absurdity of his looks (front paws smartly turned out like a ballet dancer assuming first position; a comically long lower canine on one side) charmed me instantly. (I guess if Ollie could speak, he'd say that the feeling was mutual about the absurdity of my looks!) When CanadaBoy gallivanted off to Mongolia late in the spring, I volunteered my services as Ollie's dogsitter. And all was well. CanadaBoy saw the obvious chemistry and booked me for a return engagement.

Ollie's and my rosy honeymoon period went south shortly after I'd ensconced myself comfortably in CanadaBoy's apartment once again.

Thursday afternoon. I'd been at my office. I came in, and at first glance it looked as if it had been snowing in the small apartment. White everywhere.

Wait a minute.

I sagged against the archway dividing the kitchen from the bedroom. Oh no. Hell no.

There's no easy way to say it: That dog ate my book!
He ate a book that I'd only bought two days before -- A BEAUTIFUL MIND by Sylvia Nasar, which I'd been circling it for a long time. (I almost bought a big beautiful trade paperback of it before I left the US.) The copy Ollie noshed on was a mass market paperback copy. I'd actually been registering the book on bookcrossing.com at practically the same moment Ollie was indulging his newfound taste in biography.

This hasn't happened to me for a long time. Twenty years, to be exact. Back then, I had a dog who enjoyed THE SHORT STORIES OF JOHN CHEEVER before I had a chance to. That dog just trotted up to the shelf and pulled it off with great impunity. Ollie seems to be more of a "nightstand bandit".

Should I turn right around and buy another copy of A BEAUTIFUL MIND? My friend Bronson would suggest that Ollie's eating the book was fate, and that it's not meant for me to read this particular book.

While mulling it all over, I posted on bookcrossing.com and wrote about how the book had been sacrificed to Ollie's broadening his culinary horizons. One of the members, BookCemetery, has a page at the site where members can have 'closure' when something goes horribly wrong with a book. The send-offs to "Book Heaven" are hilarious. Check out the final solemn rites for my book, a.k.a. Ollie's snack here: http://bookcrossing.com/journal/3081891/bybee/book_a-beautiful-mind-sylvia-nasar

Melon Books

Manfred, Jr. is visiting me for a bit. This weekend, we went to Japan. After we found a hotel, we went out exploring Fukuoka. As we walked down the main drag, a cute little yellow sign caught my eye: MELON BOOKS.

(I like Fukuoka pretty well, but the bookloving side of me has to sleep for a couple of days. Instead, the musicloving side of me comes out; Tower Records is in Fukuoka and they have a massive selection. When Manfred, Jr. saw the selection, he made a mental note to write to Manfred and ask him to send a list of "...that far-out shit that you're always looking for, Dad." )

Anyway. MELON BOOKS. I have to admit that where there's books, there's hope.

"A bookstore! Let's check it out!" I urged Manfred, Jr. He was game, so we climbed the two or three flights of stairs.

When I walked in, I had the impression that the whole joint had been washed in strawberry ice cream. It seemed like all the covers of the books and magazines were different shades of pink and featured female cartoon characters on the front. They all had that huge-eyed sort of vacant look that I recognize as Japanese anime. Leaving Manfred, Jr. to his own devices, I went looking for the novels. No novels. Yawn. All that pink. I was reminded of "Hello Kitty". Double yawn.

Then it hit me. Most of the cartoon characters were naked, or nearly so!

Right about then, Manfred, Jr. came around the corner.

"Do you know where we are?" he said quietly. "Think about it, Mom. Melon Books. Melon Books."

Oh.

"This is Hentai," Manfred, Jr. explained. I must have looked a little blank, because he rushed to clarify. "Anime porn."

Hmmmmm....

"I could leave," I offered. "If you'd like to look around some more, or maybe buy something. I'll just go out there." I pointed to the stair landing, right outside the store. Looking around Melon Books again, I noticed that I was the only middle-aged woman in there. It was a slightly cringeworthy moment.

"No, that's okay," Manfred, Jr. said generously.

We left together, but I could see him observing landmarks and location. We're going back to Japan in a few weeks. Something tells me that Manfred, Jr. will be making a bookstore run without the old lady in tow.

Harry Potter

Yeah, of course I was in the bookstore on July 16th, but I couldn't do it. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to buy the new Harry Potter book.

Let me correct myself: I was in two different bookstores. HP was in both stores, but I wasn't even tempted.

Why? Sometimes I don't understand the dark workings of my bookwormy little brain, so this is the place where I go to brood.

I read the other five HP books last year and enjoyed them mightily. I was pleased as punch in December when J.K. Rowling posted the happy news that she'd finished HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE. I admire J.K. Rowling. She, too, was an EFL teacher once upon a time. I've been following the frenzy on TV. I've gotten irritated when people have posted spoilers. So why didn't I just buy the book?

Shanghai was in the bookstore at the same time I was. She was carrying two copies of the book: One for herself, and one for a friend.

This is what did tempt me: I saw the shipping boxes that the book came in. They were white and green, labeled with the title of the book and the instructions not to open the box until July 16th. When I saw those boxes piled in a corner at the back of the bookstore, I wanted one immediately. They looked like excellent collector's items. In the end, I walked out with something really different: A biography of Howard Hughes. WTF???????????

Because practically everyone else in the whole frickin' English-speaking world wanted that book on that particular day, it made me not want it.

All the madness and hoopla over the publication and selling of a book gladdens my heart, but I just can't bring myself to queue up with everyone else.

So, at the bottom of it all, if I feel cold about purchasing this book, does this mean that I'm not the truly-madly-deeply booklover that I thought I was? Does the misanthrope within me trump the book hound? Am I exhibiting bizarre book snob behavior, bristling at being "told" that I must run, not walk to the store immediately and buy this book?

What made Saturday any different than any other day? Why didn't I go into my "Lost Weekend" mode and fall on the damned thing the moment I saw it on display?

Ambiance

This blog entry begins sort of like a joke: "Three Canadians, one Kiwi, one Welshman, one Korean, one Japanese and one American walk into a bar..." Yeah, that's what it's like when I go places with my co-workers.

Anyway, we were all in Busan, living it up in a work-related way that I still really don't have a full grasp of. But never mind. All I know for sure is that it was a damn nice hotel and the university that employs us was picking up the tab.

After a nice dinner and lots of drink, we were all feeling quite convivial and were of the opinion that what else was there to do but go forth and seek out more drink? That's how we got into the hotel's bar. The hostess put together 2 long tables in the back so we could all sit together and chat and guzzle.

So there we were, in the back in the corner. I was ready to take my seat near Pablo and CanadaBoy, when something stopped me in my tracks. If you're a faithful reader of this blog, you've guessed it: There were 2 bookshelves in this room, about 5 feet apart. These shelves had a few knicknacks on them, but there were also a few books on the shelves! Of course, they were there to give the place a little intellectual ambiance. Ambiance be damned. I started pulling the books off the shelves and examining the titles.

Most of the stuff was crap. Old crap, but crap just the same. Indifference and alcohol quickly washed those titles from my brain. I did find one book that piqued my interest: ARROWSMITH by Sinclair Lewis. It was an old copy, a third edition that was dated 1926, but it was in fairly good shape. Readable shape. In the dim light of the bar, the medium-to-large print was easy to read on slightly yellowed pages. I flipped through the novel. Snippets of narration and dialog kept snagging my eye. I leaned against the wall and read on.

Pablo called out to me, "Leave the books [Bybee], and come sit down and share a pitcher of beer." My head jerked up. Beer? Book? Which?

I took ARROWSMITH back to the table with me. "I found one I like," I said. Taking a healthy drink of beer, I turned around and began to give the bookshelf right behind me some attention. Again, all crap, except for another 1920s novel called GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES by Anita Loos. This book was actually in better shape than ARROWSMITH, and had cunning little illustrations of flappers in the margins of practically every page. It really was a dandy book, and I don't know why I replaced it on the shelf so quickly!

I passed ARROWSMITH down to Pablo, who looked at it a little. I must've said the name of the novel aloud at some point, because there was some mild interest in the book from Baldy, TechnoKiwi, Newfie, and CanadaBoy because they thought it had something to do with Aerosmith, the band led by Steven Tyler.

Sometime between the pitcher of regular beer and the glasses of Guinness, I knew that I could not leave the bar without ARROWSMITH. It was right there on the table in front of me. I alternated between reading little bits and holding my hand over it protectively. TechnoKiwi and Baldy were encouraging me to walk out with it, which is of course exactly what I wanted to do. How could I return that book to the shelf, return it to being perceived as merely a knicknack? Books aren't knicknacks. They're meant to be READ. That's their destiny!

The idea grew and grew and I discussed it at some length with the others at the table. Finally, I reached a high enough level of indignation and announced that I would liberate ARROWSMITH from this bar and allow it to function as a book should. My foggy brain loved the symmetry: I would have a book to read, and the book would have a reader. Both ARROWSMITH and I would be fufilling our destinies.

I wondered if I would be caught leaving the bar with a book. Did the bar staff even know that there were books on those back room shelves? Did they care? Why would they care? They were all Korean! These books were in English!

"Just smuggle it out under your shirt," Baldy advised. "If someone asks why your tits look funny, just hit him."

Luckily, the caper could be accomplished without my chest being called into question. That night, I was wearing what's ordinarily meant to be a "big shirt", but I've lost weight since coming to Korea, so it's actually a "really big shirt" now. When we left the bar for the next round of conviviality and drinking, Baldy stood in front of me, blocking the hostess' view while I slipped the book under my left arm, under my shirt, then we all straggled out together. I strove for a woozy but innocent look. Made it past the hostess with no problem.

I struggled briefly with what I'd done, but I finally broke it down to this question: "What would Sinclair Lewis think?"

I haven't read any biographies of this author, but I'd like to think that since he wrote a lot of novels (I've read MAIN STREET, ELMER GANTRY, ANN VICKERS and something else I can't remember), maybe he, too, was a shameless bookworm. Maybe he was also prone to drunken antics and gestures like pinching books from bars.

I'd also like to think that he'd understand about living in a foreign country where there's not a Barnes & Noble on every corner. Furthermore, I think he'd like it that one of his books is going to be read very soon (as soon as I finish IN A SUNBURNED COUNTRY by Bill Bryson). Pablo says that he'll borrow it after I'm finished. I also registered it on bookcrossing.com, so I can release it to the world at large at some point, hopefully to some other appreciative reader.

At almost 80 years of age, after a long period of stagnation as a piece of frou-frou, this copy of ARROWSMITH's life may just be beginning! I finally decided that if there is a Literary Heaven, Sinclair Lewis was there, giving me a wink and the thumbs-up that night.

With that settled, my thoughts are returning with great fondness and regret to that copy of GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES. Hey guys! When's our next trip to Busan?

Steps That Lead Down!

I went back to Daegu today in search of my elusive bookstore.

Dripping with sweat, I walked the path described by Pablo. His brief description was burned on the sountrack of my brain: "Cross the street at Outback and walk down the street a bit. You'll see steps that lead down..."

[No, I never went back this last week to ask/beg him to tell me yet again where the bookstore was. That was too humiliating. I did have it in the back of my mind that if I was thwarted yet again, I'd get my other coworker, CanadaBoy, on the phone and get Pablo's number from him. Then, when Pablo heard the edge of tears in my voice he'd come to my rescue with pinpoint directions, like the true gentleman and bookworm that he is.]

I was spared humiliation and the effort of having to generate tears. I found the bookstore! Hooray! As it turns out, Pablo's instructions were perfect...I just hadn't gone far enough either time (I thought I was running out of downtown and had overshot the place!) so I'd never gotten there.

Sigh. It's nice in there.

Unlike Kyobo, it's a lot more spread out. Also, the air conditioning was working well. In addition, the English-language books section wasn't crowded as hell. I'm barely exaggerating when I say that it wouldn't be unusual to come away from Kyobo bruised because of the cramped, crowded space in the English-language books section.

I parked myself on the floor of my new bookstore with a satisfied plop and examined books on the lower shelves. I was happy. Never mind that the Korean guy next to me was singing along to the "Greatest Hits Of Air Supply" with great feeling. That guy knew every word, every note, every subtle nuance of phrasing. To his credit however, he didn't hold that really l-o-n-g note at the very end of "I'm All Out Of Love". I was ready for it, though!

The selection at the new bookstore is similar to Kyobo's, but I did find some books that I hadn't seen before. One was an Abby Fruct novel, LIFE BEFORE DEATH. I almost bought it. It's really hard to find her stuff. This used to annoy me back in Missouri because the book reviewer at the Kansas City Star just raved about Fruct's work.

I also found a biography of Howard Hughes that looked good. Biographies are damn scarce here...I wonder why? I've seen approximately four in seven months: Howard Hughes, Eminem, Sting, and Katherine Graham.

There was also a John Updike novel called SEEK MY FACE that I haven't read yet. I don't know if it's the latest one or not. Anyway, that's the book I bought. You would think that after being denied and thwarted I would've gone hog-wild once I found the store, but I was miraculously able to hold myself in check.

Also, THE TIME TRAVELER'S WIFE is about 4,000 Won cheaper at my new bookstore than it is at Kyobo. If I decide to read this book, I'll get it there.

I left the store feeling quite triumphant and yes, even swaggering a bit. I was silently exulting "Book Goddess! Book Goddess!" in a way that would be reminiscent of "Who's Yo' Daddy?"

I had to walk back by Kyobo, and of course, I was drawn in by forces that have had possession of my bookwormy soul since even my pre-literate days, so why fight it or deny it? At Kyobo, I bought a handy-dandy little pocket-sized Korean phrasebook. It's published by Lonely Planet and looks quite user-friendly.

Thwarted!!!

Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhh!

That would be me, Bybee, having a a book-related hissy fit. Let me pick myself up from the floor where I've been lying face down, screaming, kicking my feet and hammering my fists, and I will explain:

Pablo told me about another bookstore in Daegu. Apparently, the prices are better, and even though the selection is smaller, some good stuff can be found there.

Problem: I can't locate this store. I've followed Pablo's directions, and I'm not seeing it! This makes twice I've failed to locate it! Obviously, I'm walking right by it every damn time, and that infuriates me! I can live with being thwarted about many things, but to have a bookstore right under my nose and not be able to get to it makes me crazy! I don't care if it's a teeny tiny hole-in-the-wall and it turns out to be chock-full of Harold Robbins and Danielle Steel! It's still a bookstore, and I really really need [insert pathetic whimper here] to have it on my beat.

After suffering this defeat again, I went back to Kyobo, my regular (and only) bookstore and bought these items:

1. A boxed set of 5 CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS books by Dav Pilkey. I told myself that they're for my students, but are they really? Ever since I visited Dav Pilkey's website, http://www.pilkey.com I've been a huge fan of his. So if these books don't really click with my students, then nuts to them. I'll read them myself!

2. SISTER CARRIE by Theodore Dreiser. Ever since finishing the James M. Cain omnibus, I've been a little bereft, wishing for more of his work. I'm hoping that a foray back into naturalism via Dreiser will fill the bill. Like Cain, Dreiser worked as a journalist and spent time hanging out with H.L. Mencken. If I had my druthers, I'd be reading Dreiser's JENNIE GERHARDT (I've wanted to since Harvey Pekar gave it a favorable review in AMERICAN SPLENDOR --both comic and movie--) but I've been unable to procure a copy.

Regarding my elusive bookstore: I can't give up. I mustn't give up. Even though it's going to hurt my pride, I have to go back to Pablo and admit that even with general but good directions, the bookstore is still out of my grasp. Ouch. It hurts to admit it to myself, my blog!

How in the hell can I possibly miss locating a bookstore? You'd think my bookwormy radar would've blinded and deafened me and turned me to stone everytime I overshot the place!

Kick-Ass Bookworming

Satisfy your need and greed to dwell in communion with a REAL bookworm, not these wormy-come-lately types who think they're all that just because they've read all of Oprah's recommendations! Visit the blog Pages Turned
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I was really sorry to hear about Anne Bancroft's death at 73 from cancer. She was an actress I liked very much. Like other fans, I was mesmerized by her performances in THE MIRACLE WORKER and THE GRADUATE, but my favorite movie of hers is 84 CHARING CROSS ROAD, in which she plays Helene Hanff, a feisty, opinionated, energetic New York booklover who has a lengthy and affectionate correspondence with a London bookstore located at the address that provides the title of the film. The film is based on a memoir by Hanff.

As I watched Bancroft-as-Hanff ordering deliciously large crates of books from England, and talking on the phone to the bookstore loudly and slightly nasally, and positively pop-eyed with book lust, I had a shock of recognition. Scenes at her books-are-taking-over-and-who-the-hell-cares? apartment made me want to just crawl into the movie and live there forever.