Why I support My Local Library

            I’m finding it kind of ironic these days that I am trying to so hard to get published when I can no longer afford the small luxury of buying books.  I should say that’s primarily because I read probably forty books a year or so.  At twenty-four bucks a pop for a hard cover, that’s $1000 and since the decimation of my industry and business, that’s a lot of money that should be going to better uses, especially since there are alternatives.

One might say that buying a Kindle would allow me to purchase a wide volume of novels at a much lower cost, but then again if you knew me and how I feel about e-books versus the real thing, you’d know that I’m just not ready to go there yet.  Plus, if I won’t splurge twenty-four bucks on a book, I certainly won’t pay $115 on an ad-supported Kindle.  So what’s a reader to do then?  That’s easy.  I patronize my local King County Library.

            Actually, that’s a lie.  Sort of.  I do use the library, but from the convenience of my own desk chair.  I can access the entire library system’s stacks via the Internet.  I can search a favorite author’s name and see what titles pop up, then peruse the book flap copy and decide if it interests me or not.  Or if I’ve heard or read a book review and it interests me, I can search that title.  The library even offers me suggestions based on what I’m currently viewing or what I’ve already read.  I love that feature, by the way.

Once I’ve selected the titles I want, they are put on hold and when they become available, they are sent to my local branch just a couple of miles away from my home.  I receive an email notification as soon as the book has been placed on the hold shelf, complete with my name on a reservation slip which makes it easy to locate alphabetically.  And since everything is automated these days, I just scan my own library card then the bar code on the book and viola!  I have that book for at least four weeks though I can renew online, as well.

Now, like with most things, there are drawbacks.  For one, if a title is popular, as many of my selections are, I will likely have to wait a few weeks before that title becomes available.  But I know this up front as the info is supplied to me when placing the hold.  It will say something like my hold is the 25^th hold on 50 copies, which means it might take me a month to receive that title.  I currently have one hold that says 297^th of 195 copies and that’s after already waiting three months, so yeah, that one could take me awhile to get, but I’m patient.  I usually have about six titles on hold at any given time and a stack of at least that many books sitting on my desk, waiting to be read, so I can wait.  I’ve got lots to keep me busy. 

Of course, the biggest drawback to borrowing from the library is that the book is not actually mine.  I can’t keep it and display it on my bookshelf.  But then again, I have so many books and not nearly enough shelf space that I am already stacking two rows per shelf.  That means I can’t even see half the titles I do have as they are hidden behind the forward row.

Conceding that, I do find the fact that the book I’m reading is not mine to bother me a bit.  So if I really, really, REALLY love that book, I will go out and splurge on it.  In the case of Greg Iles’s titles, I loved so many of them—thirteen total—that I had my husband buy them for me off Ebay which meant they were second-hand and I was not supporting my favorite author.

I do feel kind of bad about that, but what can I do?  I don’t typically like paperbacks though they are much cheaper.  And as in the case of Iles’s titles, most of them are not kept on the brick and mortar’s shelves so I would have to back order them only to receive a paperback.  So, for now, my method works for me.  When I’m back to earning some good money, I will start buying books again.

One thing I do love about borrowing books from the library is that I will often read books that I would not ordinarily buy, something that is outside my typical genre of choice, thrillers.  The last book I read outside my genre was Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford.  It is a book of historical fiction set in Seattle (near where I currently reside) during World War II.  It is the story of a Chinese-American boy who falls for a Japanese-American girl just after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and right before she and her family are sent away to an internment camp.  It flashes back and forth between the war years and 1986, when that boy is in his fifties and hears of the discovery of many personal belongings of local interned Japanese-Americans at the Panama Hotel in Seattle.

Definitely not my normal reading choice, but the fact that one of my favorite literary agent bloggers, Jessica Faust of BookEnds, reps the author and the story is set in Seattle, I was very intrigued.  And as I was reading, I found myself constantly using the Google Maps app on my iPhone to locate the streets in the International District that the author described.  I enjoyed his setting so much that I want to spend time exploring the neighborhood, including the Panama Hotel which still exists to this day.

This love of setting harkens back to my last blog post.  I would never have otherwise read this book had I not had the library.  I never would have considered actually buying this book because I don’t think I would have liked it just by reading the flap cover.  But now that I have read it and know how much I love it, I will buy that book and most likely any other Jamie Ford writes.  The library allowed me to open my eyes a bit more and fall in love with another author and said author will now benefit from that, whereas before, he would not have. 

I actually read a lot more books now that I have rediscovered the library.  The ease of use permits me to at least try to explore titles I never would have otherwise.  Now, I will admit, sometimes I don’t always like the titles I’ve checked out.  The Book of Air and Shadows by Michael Gruber, while in my genre and beautifully written, was way too slow for me, The Dead Don’t Dance by Charles Martin was too sickly sweet and The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi Durrow, well, I found it so uninteresting I couldn’t even make it to page forty though it is an award-winning debut novel.  And though Karin Slaughter’s books are my friend, Lisa’s, favorites, I found, for the most part, that I just don’t care for crime fiction.  Then again, I did love Lisa Gardner’s Say Goodbye.  And I won’t even get into how I feel about Jonathan Franzen.  But the library did allow me to discover Michael Connelly and James Scott Bell, both of whom I love.  And I never would have found out that sometimes the very authors I love most don’t always write spectacular fiction.  Hey, they’re human, too.  Who knew?  

           So all in all, even when I do start raking in the cash again, I think I will most likely keep using my library card to discover new writers and new titles.  In the long run, I believe it will allow me to support those authors I truly love, whose books I really want on my over burdened bookshelf. 

E-Books vs. the Real Thing

Last week, Nathan Bransford asked a question on his blog:  Will you ever buy mostly e-books?  And for the first time in the four years since he first asked this question, the yeas outnumber the nays, 32% to 30%.  I was not surprised since e-readers are the gift of the season this year and many of my friends and family now use them, but when I put the questions to myself, a woman who loves electronic gadgets of all sorts, I answered with a resounding NO!

There are several reasons why, most of them having to do with the nostalgia of holding a book in my hand.  There is something about the way a real book feels that is sensual in so many ways.  It’s almost like holding and caressing a lover in its sensuality.  First, I love the smell of the ink and the paper on a new book, especially a hardback.  I love to run my fingers over the pages from front to back and let the scent of the fanned air caress my face and fill my nostrils.  It smells almost as good as freshly baked break or newly ground coffee. 

And then there’s the feel of the book, its heft and breadth, the substantial bulk, that makes me happy.  And I love a really long, big, fat book because that means I get to be absorbed in a story and the lives of its characters for a very long time. I can fall in love with them and hug them as I pull the thick volume close to my chest before I put it down for the night.  I also love the way it feels when I rest an open book above my upper lip and below my nose as I gaze over the top edge at the TV or a loved one when they interrupt my reading.

When I read a real book, I place my thumbs along the open pages and slip the middle finger of my right hand into the as yet unread pages on the right, gauging how many pages I have left, how much more time I have remaining with my new love.  And when something I’ve just read confuses me, I love to fan back through those pages I’ve already read to find the previously read passage that will straighten me out.  When I do, I often note the few places where the corner of a page became dog-eared or where I spilled some food or drink, creating a small speck on the once clean paper, because I never, and I mean never, sit at the table and eat without a book opened in front of me.

My favorite passages often sit open at attention because I’ve run my hand over the binding so many times.  And when the book falls off the table or chair where I’m sitting, it automatically opens to that exact passage and I picture that scene in my mind all over again.  I even love the way I can see the texture of the paper beneath the contrasting ink.  And I love the cover art, which, if I’ve left the dust jacket on, I will see every single time I pick up my book, noting the placement of the bookmark and my progress through another magnificent story.  I love the way the title and author’s name are raised, pressed from below on the jacket so I can feel it every time I hold it in my hand.

Reading a book is so much more than just the story within.  That’s why publishers put so much time, money and effort into it.  I agree that e-readers are convenient, allowing you to carry every book you’ve ever known and purchased no matter where you’re going.  But I’ve spent a lot of money designing and building floor to ceiling library shelves to hold my most cherished collection:  my books.  They sit like pieces of fine art, deliberately displayed (without their dust jackets) and artfully arranged by author, size, color and topic.  They’re my trophies and I am very proud of them.  I feel like I have a piece of the author residing with me.  I often run my fingers over the spines of my growing library and smile as I remember each story, where I lived, or what I was doing when I read it for the first time.  They are like memories of my own life and I want to be constantly reminded of them every time I stand before the tall shelves.  And I can loan them to my friends, too.    

You just don’t have any of that with an e-reader and an e-book. 

Achieving More Than Mediocrity

            I read a lot of books.  While I read, I need noise, so I usually turn on the TV.  I don’t really watch or even listen.  I just need the company, especially when I’m alone.  During the long Thanksgiving holiday, I was rooting around the TV for something to keep me company while I read another Greg Iles book, Footprints of God.  Nothing looked very interesting, so I selected a documentary on Capitalism by Michael Moore and settled in to read.  I peeked up to see what was happening and was pulled into the scene.

            Three older men and a younger woman, all white, were video taping themselves as seven police cars approached their modest home and proceeded to bash their door in and forcibly remove them.  Then it cut to another scene where a black man and woman protested while a stranger boarded up their modest home.  In both cases, the evicted homeowners railed at the invaders, screaming that they had no right, that they had no heart. 

            I realized that in both cases, the homeowners had fallen behind in their mortgage payments and the banks were foreclosing.  While I felt badly for them, it kind of pissed me off, too, because it symbolized everything that is wrong with our country.  Too many Americans want something for nothing.  Too many feel entitled.  I wondered why this could be so.  Why did they think they should be granted a home for which they refuse to pay?  Quite simply put, it’s all a case of trying to keep up with the Joneses.  Because they want to appear to be successful.  Because they place their own value on what they possess.

            Now Michael Moore wants us all to believe that these poor people were the victims of corporate greed, which I do not disagree with entirely.  I know that the banks were not forthright in disclosing everything they should have, that they granted loans to those who had no place expecting one, but these people wanted to have a something which they could not afford, yet felt entitled to, nonetheless.  I won’t go into the Democrats creed about how they believe every American deserves a home of their own or how the Republicans, in their own best interest, refused to regulate the industry.  What I will say is this:  regardless of the ignorance of the potential home buyers, they went into a situation that was too good to be true and they knew it. 

Saying that the banks didn’t disclose the details of how an adjustable rate mortgage works does not release the buyer from responsibility.  They should have researched the situation themselves.  They should have realized that the rates could and would, most likely, go up, as would their payments.  If they couldn’t afford those payments under the most difficult of situations, then they never should have proceeded.  Ignorance is not an excuse.  Either is a lack of education.  My own husband lacks a formal education, but he always feels the need to educate himself on the risks of each loan we apply for and proceeds accordingly. 

            So why would these people put themselves and their futures at risk like this?  Because they want what they want.  End of story.  They wanted what they thought they were entitled to, regardless of their ability to pay.  Why?  Well, I put a lot of the blame on how American’s perceive themselves through the eyes of others.  Americans watch too much reality TV and put too much value on what they see there, especially when it comes to sports figures. 

These figures, often young men from poor backgrounds and broken homes, feel they can afford to buy anything they want and they do, in excess, to show how well they are doing, how far they have come in life.  It’s a bit irresponsible, yes, but it’s their life and they can live it how they want.  They’ve worked hard to get there.  What makes it so bad is the TV producer who records bits and pieces of their lives, edits then presents it as reality.  That is so far from reality as to be laughable.   

            Those athletes or celebrities have managed to turn a skill into gold.  It is a rarity that many aspire to, for sure, which is not a bad thing in and of itself.  Ambition is good.  It inspires us to try harder, to achieve a life greater than we have ever known.  But it also means hard work.  It means educating yourself or seeking some kind of training or working diligently to sharpen an already special skill.  It’s not something for nothing.

This is where I have a problem.  Americans, once the hardest working people on the face of the earth, have become lazy.  They no longer feel the need to work for what they want.  They feel entitled to whatever they see on TV or in the movies or on whatever gadget is relevant in that moment.   

            Parents these days spoil their children into thinking they are uniquely special, that they should expect everything they want, but they often don’t teach their kids how to achieve it.  They hear their kids screaming or throwing a tantrum and, in their need to calm the kid down and ease their own guilt at working too much and not being there enough, throw some new toy or electronic babysitting device at their kid and call it a day.  They are not doing their kid any favor by giving them everything they want.  And they are certainly handicapping them, and in the long run, the country, by taking the easy way out and handing over what the kid is demanding because they are too tired or unable to cope.

            What is that kid going to do when its time for college or time to start their career or provide for their own families?  They will have no real idea how to cope with real reality, real disappointment, real misfortune.  They will run back to mommy and daddy and demand another handout because that’s what’s always worked for them before.  It’s no wonder the rest of the world is passing us by, why they see us as spoiled, entitled bigots.  We simply do not aspire to anything more than what we can buy, for what will present us in the best light to our friends, family and neighbors. 

            Now, I’ve known both poverty and wealth, not that I’ve experienced either at its most extreme, but moderate versions, for sure.  I’m in a down cycle right now, and have been for over three years, with my business collapsing and all my clients shutting their doors, but I’ve adjusted.  I never buy clothes or take vacations or make unnecessary purchases.  In one week, I’ve had to buy snow tires and a new fridge and it’s killed me to spend that money with Christmas around the corner.  But they were necessary and I will adjust to accommodate them by giving something else up. 

Luxury for me is taking one day in Portland to see a basketball game or going out to eat Mexican food once every other month.  Those little luxuries help me cope.  I’ll never live outside what I can afford because it means I will have to give up my son’s college education or my retirement.  Instant gratification and seeking the adulation of those around me means my life will be that much more difficult later on, when all those who I try to impress will be long gone and better forgotten.  Yeah, live for today, but plan for the future, as well.

I realize many people will not agree with me and I certainly am not looking for a fight, but I do want people to be responsible for themselves, to think for themselves, to be original and have ambition to achieve something.  Don’t fall back on the tried and true.  Push yourself.  Dream big.  Work hard and long to achieve it, but know the future lies in the children and if we do not set them up for success by allowing them to fail or be disappointed, then we are all doomed.  Teach them that the world is what we make it and can be what we dream it to be, but we need to have a realistic, attainable dream to begin with.  And the only way to get there is with hard work that is not always going to be successful, but with each failure, we learn a better way.  Know your limitations, but push against them…AND STOP WATCHNG REALITY TELEVISION!                                 

(This was originally supposed to be a blog about how we’ve become complacent and accept mediocrity, or worse, as the norm, as exemplified on reality TV.  I wanted to say how our skewed vision of reality has crippled our ability to be original.  Those thoughts are expressed in here somewhere.  I think you will just have to work a little harder to find it…sorry…not!)