The cat always lands on her feet...

I thought closing Miss Prothero's Books would be simple. I would just walk out and close the door. I didn't know the door I would walk out of would be the door of an airplane flying at 10,000 feet.

As I was falling, I had to remind myself that it took me two years to open the store, two years to make it cozy. I was only taking two months to get it closed and turn it back into the empty shell that it once was.

Who can control a descent? I thought I could.

I began by cherry picking books from the shelf. I told myself that they had to be in fine to very fine condition. They had to be hardback, something I'd read and admired or something I wanted to read and admire. Dilettantes do not make good cherry pickers. They want to read and admire everything. They want to save it all, keep it all -- that paperback about dogs who know when their people are coming home, that law book on Dickens.

Next, I contacted those with store credit. All but one of the creditees responded. At the top of the list was Ron Chidester, an electrician-painter-filmmaker-father-grandfather-genius?-sweetheart-storyteller. When Ron came through the door, I could usually count on an hour in conversation, sometimes more. Because he came in three times to redeem his credit, that was 3-plus hours when I wasn't cherry picking, wasn't deleting books from my inventory file, constructing an advertisement for craigslist or The Post, wasn't deconstructing a bookcase or calling about the credit card machine. (But I don't regret this. Talking to Ron was always fun.)

Telling my book club, writing group, and laughter group was next on my list. I got dumb, numb looks at each meeting. One of the members of the book club suggested they hold the last meeting in the store on August 31. I'm glad I said no.

August 1, the opening night of the Grand Opening Going Out of Business Sale, was the first time I felt as if the buzzards were circling, just waiting for my body to hit the ground hard. We sold most of the bookcases, but not most of the books. Nobody read the signs. Or they read the signs they wanted to read and didn't ask questions. Fiction and poetry was half-off. Sports was $1 per hardback. Folks wanted Hemingway for $1, a book on inner tennis for nothing.

August 1 was the first time I realized that I could no longer control my inventory files. Too much was going out the door too fast. On August 2, I put my online listings on hold.

Then there was the deluge of August 9. It rained and poured that Friday night. It rained and poured through one of my landlord's chimney's and onto my computer equipment. My Powerbook, my printer, my scanner and the keyboard on my iMac were drowned in a sea of ceiling tiles, water and mud. I tried some mouth-to-mouth, but the iMac was the only thing that survived. (What a brave, hearty soul. If Apple ever wants an endorsement, here I am.)

Through all of this, I had much more of the usual -- folks who wanted to give me advice, who wanted to diagnose my failure (duh, I know it was a bad location, but could I afford anywhere else?), and, as always, the daily congregation of drunks. The wall beside Miss P's was just across from the door to Nate's Crown Liquors, one of the cheapest liquor stores in town. Mostly men gathered there to sort out their panhandled change and to make the jaunt for the juice. I called the police, told them to move on, had daily shouting matches, and was sometimes rewarded with a "Yes, ma'am!" and sometimes rewarded with a "F*** you, bitch!"

I was never prepared for the race, poverty, and addiction issues that buzzed outside the store's front door and I don't think I ever will be.

We took down the signs on the 21st, turned the keys in on the 23rd. I am relieved. I've been catching up on accounting and reworking the inventory. (I should be back online by Labor Day.) I've been enjoying the Democratic Convention. I followed Daryl Henline and the Goodnight Bush Choir down the 16th Street Mall, to The Bug, to the Neighborhood Flix Obama Watch party.

I will keep blogging. Because the pressure to promote the store is off, maybe I'll snark, snivel, and complain more. Or maybe I'll finally learn to be positive. I'll talk about other bookstores. (Have you been to Kilgore Books yet? I need to find my way back.) And, goldurnit, I may even learn how to talk about books.

Although I don't think I can keep up with the writing circle, I'm hoping to keep up with the Whodunit Club. I will probably retire Miss P as a business name. (The old girl was too much of an introvert anyway.) I may start operating under the name of Wig's Town Books. Who knows what will happen once I emerge from the cocoon.

Grand Opening Going Out of Business Sale

The date is set. Miss Prothero's Books will start its going-out-of-business sales on August 1 at 6 p.m. It's a First Friday in the art district and the first day of the Rocky Mountain book and paper fair. We're hoping to capitalize on both events. Miss Prothero may reincarnate at the Denver Book Mall or just remain an online dealer. The future is uncertain. All Miss P knows at the moment is that she needs to be out of 1112 Santa Fe Drive by August 30th. To get that accomplished, she needs to slim down on inventory, furniture, fixtures and equipment. She'll be selling books cheap (1/2 off the first night and cheaper on the days that follow). She'll be selling bookcases, too --
$20 per shelf full or $15 per shelf empty. Rob's prize telegrapher's desk is on the block,


as is the saddle stapler,

the book press,


Sherlock's wingback,


the bent wood rocker, the choir chancel,


the stereo system (yes, that is a collectible turntable in there),


my beloved sandwich board,


the cash register, the kitchen sink* and more. Need more information? Give the store a call at 303-572-2260.

*Just kidding. The sink belongs to the landlord. Well, maybe he won't miss it.

Now is the time for all good...

readers to come to the aid of their country. We've been winnowing the inventory at Miss Prothero's Books. For some time, I have considered finding new homes for all titles in the "American Presidents" section. After all, who wants to read about Woodrow Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Abraham Lincoln, Richard Milhous Nixon, John F. Kennedy, and Ronald Reagan? Shouldn't we focus only on Barack Obama and John McCain? We Americans are pretty short sighted, always lost in the present, ready, willing and able to repeat the mistakes of the past. Wondering about our current economic morass? Maybe you need to read Alexander Cockburn's Corruptions of Empire. How do we get manipulated into voting for the lesser of two evils every darn time? Try reading Joe McGinniss's classic The Selling of the President. And why is the pursuit of America's highest political office such a grueling sports contest? Then maybe you need to read another classic, Marathon, The Pursuit of the Presidency, 1972-1976. Do presidents ever understand the worlds they live in? Try Richard Nixon's No More Vietnams or Dwight D. Eisenhower's Mandate for Change. And don't forget the first ladies. Mr. Lincoln's Wife was one of our most complicated. Eleanor Roosevelt was one of the toughest. And where would Lyndon be without Ladybird? Barack without Michelle? John without Carol...oops! I meant Cindy! (We are usually such a "moral" nation. Why hasn't anyone said much about John McCain's first wife and his divorce? Did I mention Joe McGinniss's classic The Selling of the President? Yeah, I think I did.)

P.S. All of the above titles should be available on our inventory Biblio.com within the next day. I was unable to provide links to some of the higher inventory numbers at the time of this post. Please make a comment if you have trouble finding one of the mentioned titles. I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Sometimes You Have to Spend Money to...

Spend money. The old adage about spending money to make money strikes me as one of the wackiest con games ever perpetrated on the American businessman and businesswoman. When I first opened Miss Prothero's Books, I believed it. I spent money underwriting a local public radio station, spent money buying what I thought were well-placed ads, spent money on T-shirts and canvas bags with the store logo. When people who have just discovered the store ask me if I advertise, I tell them that I no longer have the budget for it. The money I spent to make money has vanished. It's like those government stimulus checks...lost down a rabbit hole. Maybe our country is in such a mess because people are spending and not investing, spending on themselves and not investing in their community, buying gas at the local 7-Eleven and not taking the time to consider ways out of our current madness.

Reading is an investment for which too few take the time. It is a way to understand yourself and the world. It trains you to look back, forward, and in between. Pick up a book. Forget the latest best seller. There are so many noteworthy reads that you have ignored. Ever read Madame Bovary? How about A Man of the People? How about Snow Country? Want to learn about water and the West and place? Try Robert Michael Pyle's The Thunder Tree.

The Stuff of Stuff

I've been working at Toni's coffee cart to make ends. The contradiction is most apparent there. I have customers who tell me they don't want their credit card receipt. Trying to save a tree, they tell me as they rip open a packet of sugar, pour it into their Styrofoam coffee, and stir it with a disposable plastic stir stick.

I do see it at the bookstore, too. There was one gentleman who told me he wasn't buying any more books. He was "cutting back on things". The next time I saw him he was toting a box from Amazon. Guess what was in the box? Books. Lots of new books. On green living! He was going to hand them out as gifts. Granted, the books were printed on recycled paper. But they were shipped in a new cardboard box on a new plane or truck using several gallons of new fuel.

We are confused birds. I saw graffitti on the sidewalk that seems to sum it all up -- "Consume less. Create more." Never mind that creation is a very material thing, an act of destruction, revision, and consumption.

As a lover of art, it's always bothered me. Why do I need another image on the wall, another story on the shelf, another ring on my finger?

I don't know.

Maybe because it's beautiful. Because it feeds my heart and soul and spirit.

Miss Prothero's Books will be displaying some of that heart and soul and spirit stuff during the month of June. It's jewelry by Kathy Adams and watercolors by Peg Meagher. The opening night reception is June 6 from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Hope you can come. Here are some samples of their beautiful work --

Lake Mc Cononaughy, Nebraska
by Peg Meagher

Pin
by Kathy Adams


Monassas Flowers
by Peg Meagher

Bracelet
by Kathy Adams

There's a multi-tasking mime coming to a bookstore near you...

Miss Prothero's Books will host Kathy Fish on May 2. No, she is not a multi-tasking mime. Nor is she the next Stanley Kubrick, the indexer with a migraine, the little girl sent to the closet for eating glue, or the scarecrow named Prue. She is a master of the short, short story. She created all of the above characters and brought their rich complications to her chapbook Laughter, Applause, Laughter, Music (one of 4 chapbooks collected in A Peculiar Feeling of Restlessness, Rose Metal Press, 2008). Well, she didn't create a multi-tasking mime. That would have been something. In her story "Unanimous", Fish makes it abundantly clear that mimes are anathema to multi-tasking. (Just imagine Marcel Marceau performing while talking on a cell phone.)

I'm looking forward to Fish's reading. I'm sure there will be laughter, applause, laughter, music after it's all over. Well, maybe not music. Unless there's a mime in the audience who wants to hum a few bars of movie music.

Refugee

I was a fool to believe that age could have improved my immune system. After a few years without nasty illnesses, serious colds, or niggling flu; I caught my fill of something and could barely make myself do anything. Saturday, there was a freezing drizzle, too, so I gave up on listing books or catching up on accounting, took refuge in the pink wing back and began read Suite Francaise. What a large and wonderful book. Irene Nemirovsky's death was senseless and a loss.

Today, I'm feeling better. I finished up my November books, followed up on some wants from the customer wish list, and proofread my Child's Christmas in Wales script for next Friday night. I'm about to take refuge again, get back to France, the invasion of Paris...

Of course, I wouldn't mind it if a customer interrupted for just a minute or two or three. I might even let them buy the book from my hands...

A Toast to All Who Share Their Books

I enjoy imagining the details of the life of the person who brings me books. There was the woman who said she had lots of Native American titles, lots of hardbacks. She said she wanted to support the local bookstore and would love to trade. She bought Peter Matthiessen's In the Spirit of Crazy Horse. I thought she might be a gold mine. When she came back to the store, her bag of books contained mostly romances, an Oprah book club selection, and a few thrillers. Normally, I would have passed, but I honored her intention and gave her $22 in trade. She beamed. It was as if I'd given her a $100 bill.

Tuesday, one of my old bosses came in. He brought a bag of cucumbers, a bag of tomatoes, a jar, and three boxes of books. The cucumbers and tomatoes were from his garden. The books were from his son. He didn't expect anything in return. I had been a good employee. And what else would he do with such abundance? I gave him some respect in trade.

The story of his three boxes of books was probably more valuable than the books he brought. A few titles were expected. My boss's son was moving to Alaska...which would explain How to Speak Alaskan, a slim paperback I put in the 25 cent bin. The son's wife was a nurse...which would explain books like Bacterial Cell Structure, A Primer of Microscopic Urinalysis, and that all time classic -- Modern Urine Chemistry. I had to wonder if the boss man buried a few books in the boxes. There were books on management, books about ethics and accounting. (We worked for a large energy company in the capital asset accounting department. When a big company has an accounting disaster, it usually starts in capital asset accounting.) Then there were the books on infertility -- Inconceivable, Winning the Fertility Game and The Language of Fertility. I thought about the son and daughter-in-law. How badly had they wanted a child? Did they have a child? I made my way through the second box. No clue. A book on carpentry, some biology textbooks, a book on business writing. Then there it was near the top of box 3 -- Goodies to Go, Take-Along Treats for Kids. Beneath that there was a children's dictionary, a treasury of fairy tales, a collection of children's Christmas stories. One more layer down, there were a few of the child's own books....Holes by Louis Sachar and The Forests of Silence by Emily Rodda.

"Hmmm," I said. "Happy ending." As I finished sorting the books.

Putting the World in Order

Our first year in business has been 3 parts chaos and 12 parts disorder. This past week has been a particular struggle. There was the perpetual balancing of the books (don't ask), the monthly art district meeting (why do they always get to the good parts when I have to leave?), the meeting with the district 6 police liaison and Steve Lujan of Kreative Kitchens and Baths (no, nothing solved), the phone calls with Nancy Missbach about the altered books project (is it really going to get off the ground?), and the endless battle for customers (online orders up, walk-ins down).

No wonder I've been hiding my head in mystery novels. I just want a little order. As P. D. James said, "...the detective story is about...not murder but the restoration of order."

I dug into Allana Martin's Death of an Evangelista yesterday. The first line lassoed me by the neck and pulled me in. Priests, proselytizers, pet bobcats and Cadillac Charlies people the pages. If I get done writing this before close, you can bet I'll be tucking into another chapter.

Dolores Johnson's Buttons & Foes was the mystery I finished yesterday morning. Because Johnson will be visiting the Whodunnit Club in October, I wanted to read the one Mandy Dyer mystery we had in the store. The territory was familiar. Johnson's Mandy Dyer is a dry cleaner from Cherry Creek. Her city is my city. I know her streets, her roadblocks. Heck, I might even know the killer...

I finished reading up to chapter 16 in Ruth Rendell's Sins of the Fathers on Friday. (It's the Whodunnit Club's August selection.) I'm not sure I care or can guess who killed old lady Primero. (I'm thinking Inspector Wexford had it right in the first place.) But Archery and his moral dilemmas made it all worth the read.

If you're interested in Death of an Evangelista, we have an ex-library copy. I haven't taken the time to list it and probably won't take the time. You'll have to pick it up at the store. If you want me to hold it for you, call us at 303-572-2260.

Buttons and Foes is listed online. Dolores Johnson will lead the Whodunnit Club through Taking the Wrap on October 28. I should have copies of that in a week or two.

We are sold out of Ruth Rendell's Sins of the Fathers. I'd sell you my copy, but it's on loan from the Fort Collins library.

If you'd like to put your world in order, give us a call at 303-572-2260. We'll put you on the Whodunnit Club mailing list. The club's next meeting is August 26 at 4:30

Beer, Books, and Teague Bohlen

Okay, I'll finally admit it. Miss Prothero's Books is located near a liquor store, not a nice, genteel middle class liquor store where maiden aunts go to buy sherry and fruitcake brandy and hep young couples go to debate the merits of different microbrews.

It's a place that loads up on cheap malt liquor and rot-gut vodka, a place where the down and out go to get down and out. It's the block's bitter old uncle, the barrio's black hole. People who get sucked in don't come back. When they do come back, they've mutated beyond hope.

But what can I say. The owner of the store is just trying to survive, trying to make a buck. Who doesn't stand on someone's back on the way to the top of the pile?

Whose back am I standing on?

I had a drunk arrested the other day. I know it's not going to help him. It probably won't help my business, either. He'll be back. When he comes back, he'll sit on the wall next to my store, a big man with a big bottle of Cobra. I'll ask him to leave. He'll flutter his hand at me. I'll threaten to call the police. He'll flutter his hand at me and say, "Go ahead." Add to this recipe the lard of race and class, and I'm left with a terrible tasting piece of the pie.

How do I stand against this overwhelming tide without standing on someone's back?

Books are a consolation of sorts. There's nothing like a good story to put it all into perspective. About a week ago, I finished reading Teague Bohlen's The Pull of the Earth. It's a book about a father and son, two sisters, an angry young man who turns helpless old drunk. It's about family and secrets, murder and second chances, the poisoned mud upon which we build our lives. It's also about standing against the pull of the past and the weight of the world.

Bohlen's book is a finalist for a Colorado Book Award. He and Bob Cooperman will be reading at Miss P's in September. I'm excited. We'll talk about the reading more in another post.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a bookstore! It's an art gallery? Part II

Once again, Miss Prothero's is having an identity crisis. Do we sell books or art or books about art? Why did we locate the store so close to the art district? Okay, when we look at the art of Barney Jones, we admit it's a nice crisis. We'll have an opening for Barney on August 3 from 7 to 9 p.m.

Gloom, Doom, and Happy Endings

Tuesday was Alice Munro's birthday. I found a quote of hers for the sandwich board, something she said during an Atlantic Unbound Interview -- "that's something I think is growing on me as I get older: happy endings..." Almost as soon a I put out the board, I had a customer walk into Miss P's looking for happy endings. "I like a good story," she said, "but I don't like blood and gore." She picked up Martha Grimes, The Old Contemptibles, and thought that might be okay. I told her that I was reading The Mineral Palace by Heidi Julavits. I warned that I wasn't through with it. Yes, it was about the 1930s, the Depression, dust storms and Pueblo (bloody subjects), but I was sure the heroine, Bena Duse Jonssen, would pick the right numbers, follow the right stars and make a happy ending out of it.

My customer bought The Mineral Palace, too.

I finished The Mineral Palace this morning. I kept rooting for Bena, rooting for Little Ted. But tragedy couldn't be kept at bay. My customer, if she ever comes back, will probably ask why I recommended a book with such a gloomy ending.

Well, it was a good story and well-written. I, for one, will be reading more Julavits. Miss Prothero's Books does have The Effect of Living Backwards on the shelf. I won't be mad at you if you get to it before I do. Miss P also has another copy of The Mineral Palace.

-NW

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a bookstore! It's an art gallery?

One problem with being located near the art district on Santa Fe is the identity crisis that Miss Prothero's Books finds herself in every First Friday. Should she try to sell books or should she try to sell art or books about art? But Miss P can never pass up art work that's compelling. That's why she asked May Chou to grace the bookstore walls with her black and white photography. A longtime resident of Denver's Park Hill neighborhood, Chou's subjects include our city children, the vanished beauty of the old Skyline Park, the clean geometry of a truck farmer's wares, and the precious open spaces along Sand Creek. We will have an opening reception for Chou on July 6 from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. Her work should remain up through the month of July.

Under the Table, Off the Wall, and On the Shelf

We've been working on opening a Cafe Press T-shirt shop. Miss P is on the front of the T-shirt. She's reading B. Literate's best seller, Read Hard Die Free. We've put no real cash into the project yet, but far too much sweat equity. If you are browsing the Internet and do happen into Miss P's Ts, please let us know what you think. Or do something off the wall! Order a T-shirt!

The K-2 kids of the South Lincoln Bridge Project came by this morning. We read Marie-Louise Fitzpatrick's I am I and made crowns. I had a good time. The kids had a good time. And nobody left any surprises under the table. (The DU Bridge Project helps kids in public housing stay in school. Donate or find out more here.)





I've been reading Jim Harrison's collection of 3 novellas, The Woman Lit by Fireflies. I have to wonder what's taken me so long. The first line of the first novella is a show-stopper -- "Just before dark at the bottom of the sea I found the Indian." What a hook! I had to ask myself -- What sea? What Indian? What kind of Indian? Wood? Metal? Flesh? And how big? 2" high? 2' high? Or 6'3"?

Don't worry about buying the copy on the bookstore shelf. I have my own copy, and I'm almost done.

--NW

Re-Joyce! It's Bloomsday!

The first time I read it, I was too young for it. James Joyce's Ulysses is not for your average high schooler, and it wasn't for me. I couldn't follow Bloom or Stephen and didn't know why I should. On the 100th anniversary (2004) of Leopold Bloom's immortal walk about the streets of London, I bought Don Gifford's Ulysses Annotated and tried again. I was rewarded with a year of delightful reading. I told myself that when I turned 50, I'd go to Dublin on June 16 and wander the streets just like Leopold.

Well, I'm 50. I didn't make it to Dublin. I opened a bookstore instead.

Miss Prothero's Books will host a private celebration tonight. Gorgonzola cheese sandwiches are on the menu. We'll play a game called "Molly's Mind". The loser will have to read a passage from...you guessed it...Ulysses.

If you're interested in starting your own Joyce odyssey, we have a like new copy of Dubliners. We've also just listed an acceptable copy of The Joyce of Cooking (Inventory # MSSP06744) and a good copy of Ulysses (Inventory # MSSP06743). You should be able to find both of these books in our online inventory by tomorrow morning. If you're in the Denver area, you can stop by and take a look or give us a call at 303-572-2260.

Thanks be to Michael Carr for the wonderful Re-Joyce pun.

To the ear's satisfaction

Yesterday was the anniversary of the premier of Igor Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring. Denver had its own rite of spring, a hailstorm that battered the tree outside the bookstore and hammered the head of our sandwich board.

It was a dissonant day. How fitting that I finished Lisa Lenard-Cook's Dissonance yesterday. It's a thoughtful, wonderful read about a piano teacher who lives a life of black and white until an unexpected inheritance of another woman's music wakes her and leads down a road of self-discovery.

For such a small book, Dissonance is ambitious. The story is told by the "ordinary" piano teacher, Anna Kramer, but the elements of her story are extraordinary and include music, the Holocaust, Los Alamos, nuclear ambitions, and Hiroshima. I might have liked the book better if there was a little bit less of it or if there was a little bit more. The passages on music are brilliant, quiet and thoughtful. They are the glue, the thread I couldn't help following. In the end, Anna sees herself as she really is. Her life begins to resolve itself "to the ear's satisfaction".

Unfortunately, Miss Prothero's Books does not have a copy of Dissonance. You can, however, find a good copy at Powell's Books.

-NW