Now that the weather has warmed up slightly, Book Book, on Bleeker Street between Leroy and Morton Streets, throws open its windows, which gives the front of the store an accordion shape as they all stand ajar in a row. Inside, everything is clean and beige, and lit by the sun.
The literature section, in the back right corner, has a lot of depth; there isn't a wide variation of authors, but the store has the complete works of each author they carry. It appeared as though one of the owners had taken all the books by their favorite authors and piled them horizontally on top of each other instead of vertically, so that they stuck out to the eye when scanning the shelves. The selected authors vary between classics like Faulkner, Dostoyevsky, and Nabokov, and more modern writers such as J.D. Salinger, David Foster Wallace and Haruki Murakami.
The store has a prodigious children’s section, which I haven't seen much of elsewhere. The history section is large and impressive as well. And I approve of any bookstore, like this one, that classifies Hunter S. Thompson as a historian. The sale books, on a cart outside, are all new and purchased at a discount from publishers who overstocked, said co-owner Charlie Mullen.
Mullen is a blue-eyed middle-aged man, friendly and mildly sarcastic. He told me all about the complex tribulations of owning a bookstore, most of which went over my head, but I gathered that it is not exactly a lucrative business. “I won’t be buying an island anytime soon," he said. Book Book sells only new books, which was a conscious decision on the part of both owners.
“Used and rare is a totally different type of book selling," said Mullen, "but there are ways to make money in it. I heard of a guy who found a Bible on the street and sold it for 100,000 dollars. Used bookstore owners stay in the game by dreaming about stuff like that, but it's not for me."
Until this past January, Book Book was named Biography Books and was located farther west on Bleeker, by 11th St. The store’s owners, Charlie Mullen and Carolyn Epstein, opened the store at its current location in September of 2009, and the two stores coexisted for a few months. Mullen said the move took place because their landlord did not renew the lease. "Magnolia Bakery opened, and then the Marc Jacobs store, and then it was off to the races,” he said.
He explained to me that once a lease expires, a landlord can hike up the rent price as much as she wants to, in the hopes that some expensive boutique will rent out the space. “Unless I was some sort of closet Rockefeller," Mullen said, "there was no way I was going to be able to stay.”
Mullen seemed cheerfully cynical about the entire situation. "I like the new environment actually," he said, "This neighborhood is much more like the old West Village I remember." He swept his hand around, motioning towards a cheese shop across the street. "And I've gotten to know some of the owners of these little shops, which is a nice change. It's not like Marc Jacobs ever stopped by to chat."
Monday, April 19, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Bluestockings
The Bluestockings storefront, on the corner of Stanton Street and Allen Street on the Lower East Side, is marked by a small blue awning displaying the name in graffiti-type letters, with a green bench next to the door. Beside the bench, a small stand contains a few newspapers, such as The Indypendent, “a free paper for free people.”
From online information, I was under the impression that the full title of the store was something like “Bluestockings Radical Books,” but co-owner Kimmie David set me straight. “The name of the store is Bluestockings, one word, no spaces,” she said. “People like to add other adjectives to it, to define it, but we feel no great urge to do so.”
Bluestockings carries books unlike any other bookstore I’ve seen in the city. Their genre labels vary from US election politics to gay erotica to disability rights to New Left and Sixties literature. A focus on the political is immediately apparent, and Bluestockings gives no illusions of objectivity; I saw lots of Howard Zinn, and a whole section of books about how Bush stole the 2000 election.
The store is small and brightly-lit, but in no way overly packed; there’s a luxurious amount of walking space between each long shelf. Every book here seems to have been individually and lovingly picked, leaving room for posters and promotions.
Kimmie David is one of the six owners, which surprised me; she doesn’t look any older than I am, standing just over five feet in her neon dress and combat boots. She said that she graduated from Hunter College only a few years ago, and was asked to become one of the owners of Bluestockings after she volunteered there during college.
When I said I attended NYU, she pointed out the upper rows of the wall bookshelves, which hold books for college courses, mostly New School and NYU Gallatin. “Professors will come to us if they would like to support us rather than the college bookstore. We also bring books to campuses, for kids who don’t know their way around the city yet,” she said.
Bluestockings has readings almost every night, and there are also groups that meet monthly at the bookstore, including the Dyke Knitting Circle, which Kimmie said is always encouraging new members, regardless of anyone’s sexual orientation or knitting prowess. “I attend sometimes, and cross-stitch, to change things up,” she said. There’s also a cafe with coffee and pastries, all free trade and organic, of course.
Although fiction and poetry are clearly not the store’s biggest focus, I was fascinated by both sections. Every bookstore I’ve written on until now has had basically the same fiction section: lots of Beatnik writers, modern cult classics. No Beats here at Bluestockings, which I imagine is due to their infamous chauvinism. The store’s fiction and poetry is a multifarious collection, each book in some way controversial, most left-leaning but without any propaganda-like air. Some books by established authors were present, but never their famous work: Mark Twain was represented only by an illustrated copy of “The War Prayer,” an obscure anti-war parable published after his death. I found Bluestockings to have its greatest charm in that they sell books by authors and poets who haven’t made it yet, which makes the commitment to equality they advertise themselves as having all the more believable.
From online information, I was under the impression that the full title of the store was something like “Bluestockings Radical Books,” but co-owner Kimmie David set me straight. “The name of the store is Bluestockings, one word, no spaces,” she said. “People like to add other adjectives to it, to define it, but we feel no great urge to do so.”
Bluestockings carries books unlike any other bookstore I’ve seen in the city. Their genre labels vary from US election politics to gay erotica to disability rights to New Left and Sixties literature. A focus on the political is immediately apparent, and Bluestockings gives no illusions of objectivity; I saw lots of Howard Zinn, and a whole section of books about how Bush stole the 2000 election.
The store is small and brightly-lit, but in no way overly packed; there’s a luxurious amount of walking space between each long shelf. Every book here seems to have been individually and lovingly picked, leaving room for posters and promotions.
Kimmie David is one of the six owners, which surprised me; she doesn’t look any older than I am, standing just over five feet in her neon dress and combat boots. She said that she graduated from Hunter College only a few years ago, and was asked to become one of the owners of Bluestockings after she volunteered there during college.
When I said I attended NYU, she pointed out the upper rows of the wall bookshelves, which hold books for college courses, mostly New School and NYU Gallatin. “Professors will come to us if they would like to support us rather than the college bookstore. We also bring books to campuses, for kids who don’t know their way around the city yet,” she said.
Bluestockings has readings almost every night, and there are also groups that meet monthly at the bookstore, including the Dyke Knitting Circle, which Kimmie said is always encouraging new members, regardless of anyone’s sexual orientation or knitting prowess. “I attend sometimes, and cross-stitch, to change things up,” she said. There’s also a cafe with coffee and pastries, all free trade and organic, of course.
Although fiction and poetry are clearly not the store’s biggest focus, I was fascinated by both sections. Every bookstore I’ve written on until now has had basically the same fiction section: lots of Beatnik writers, modern cult classics. No Beats here at Bluestockings, which I imagine is due to their infamous chauvinism. The store’s fiction and poetry is a multifarious collection, each book in some way controversial, most left-leaning but without any propaganda-like air. Some books by established authors were present, but never their famous work: Mark Twain was represented only by an illustrated copy of “The War Prayer,” an obscure anti-war parable published after his death. I found Bluestockings to have its greatest charm in that they sell books by authors and poets who haven’t made it yet, which makes the commitment to equality they advertise themselves as having all the more believable.
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