If I could attract lovers like my books attract dust, I’d be overwhelmed with them. I say this because two days ago I decided to re-organize the living room, tossing out an unloved loveseat and moving a bookcase to the other end of the room to free up a small closet.

I’ve been wanting to do this for a few weeks, but Friday became the day when my online service provider went down. After patiently trying several times to get to my email and the Internet I realized it might be minutes—or hours before they were back up. So rather than wait in frustration I shut the computer down, grabbed one arm of the loveseat and pulled.

Nine hours later—with only two short breaks and no meals—I finished. Mostly. An end table sat in the middle of the room. Despite the fact the shelves were re-filled with books, an alarming number were in piles scattered over the carpet. And the cats who had been cowering under the bed all day began to hesitantly poke their heads out while keeping their bodies carefully close to the frame so they could dive under again if necessary.

I was filthy beyond description, a mix of sweat and dirt, aching muscles, hunger pains and exhaustion. Dust that had built up to an alarming degree on the books now covered me (first) and the carpet (second). Pulling and pushing heavy furniture and lifting and carrying numerous armloads of books—including a lot of hefty art and fine art photography volumes—had me worried, despite my care, about a potential back injury.

Fortunately, the lifting cautions I observed seem to have worked. But the strenuous effort (I did not have help) showed up on Saturday morning. I could scarcely walk. My arms and shoulders were so stiff it was an effort to pick up anything. My inner thighs screamed in agony every time I sat down or stood up.

But the room looked better!

I’m not finished yet, but I have to say all that work and grime was worth it. Someone is coming this week to pick up an old computer desk I haven’t used in years, and in its place will go some new bookcases—enough, I think, to move all the books still in piles onto their shelves. And maybe even have some room left over for more. After all, hard work deserves a reward, and if I can keep up with the dusting then life will be good.

“It seems to be a perfect symbol for a bookmark, a pointer to page and place,” says Laine Farley about bookmarks that use the pointing finger and disembodied hand. Far from being symbols of horror, these body parts have a fascinating history in the world of bookmarks. Find out about the meaning of the pointed finger in this week’s On Marking Books.

Trade shows. Every industry has them, and that includes booksellers. The largest one is BEA or BookExpo America (formerly known as the American Bookseller’s Association/ABA) one, but regional ones also exist. For years, Nicki attended as a bookseller. Now, however, she is on the other side, organizing and managing one. In  A Reading Life, she charts her development from book grabber to professional reading advocate.

Reviews & Reflections returns to its weekly format with new BiblioBuffet contributor, Lisa Guidarini, who decided that writing a personal blog, hosting two reading groups, working as an Adult Program Coordinator in her public library, pursuing her graduate degree in Library and Information Studies, tending a husband and raising three children wasn’t enough. She will also turn her hand to writing a regular column that like the original will reflect her wide range of review and readerly interests.
 
How does reading a map differ from reading a book? Unlined-up lines, says Anne Michael in Seasoned Lightly. That, and the agony of a frustrated husband who tries to use her directions to drive.

BiblioBuffet has links to a number of different bookish sites—Book Donations, Book Festivals by state (Alabama-Florida, Georgia-North Dakota, Ohio-Wyoming ), Book-Related Sites, Bookmark Sites, Bookstores, and Sundry Sites. These pages are not just reciprocal links; I have spent a lot of time seeking out those I like, looking them over, asking questions where needed and generally vetting them before I list them. Not every place qualifies. I must love it myself before I can personally recommend it to our readers.

The page for bookstores is currently undergoing a major revision. While I would like to have a list of all independent bookstores in the U.S., it just isn’t possible. What I did decide to do is seek out specialty bookstores, ones that are unique in some way. Perhaps they focus on a niche market or have a professional tie to a particular culture or genre. If you know of any in your city or state, please contact me with their name. I’d love to let others know about them.

One of the more interesting ones is Bolerium Books, located in San Francisco, California. Their name comes from an extinct rodent once native to southern Europe. Alas the rodent liked to sun itself on the warm stones of Roman roads, rendering it vulnerable to the chariots. (The world’s first road kill?) The store’s mission as “purveyors of rare and out-of-print books, posters and ephemera on social movements” intrigues me. Plus, they have an astounding “Browse by Category” list, one of the largest I have ever seen and exceptionally large for a specialty store. If you can’t visit in person, at least spend some time in their online store.


Until next week, read well, read often and read on!

Lauren

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