Happy Monday! I’m still home, it’s Monday and I’m at my window on time, and the temperature was in the low 40s when I woke up. Fall is officially here and all is right with the world, well at least in my little corner of it. I hope your little corner of the world is good, too.
Last week I wrote about home, and I loved seeing all the comments. Thank you. For those of you calling our hometown home, it felt like an extension of our reunion.
During the longer visit to Ohio in September, I spent most of my time with family but for an hour or two I slipped away to an indie bookstore in Westerville, Ohio. I’d been to Birdie Books before, having to check it out the first time because Birdie was my dad’s nickname. I figured it was a sign I was supposed to go in and visit. Doesn’t that make perfect sense to you, too? But that time the store was just half this size. They’ve since expanded into the full length of the building and added a coffee shop. It’s a great store, if you like books.
But it was this sign that caught my attention in the new cafe: Welcome to Our Screen–Free Bar & Bakery. I stood inside and observed the coffee shop for a few moments. Patrons were obeying the sign so instead of seeing a low wall of open laptops and Ipads, I saw tables topped with coffee mugs, pastries, and stacks of books–which made for a colorful, interesting and welcoming tableau. In some way it brought to mind those images of French bistros and sidewalk cafes, with people sitting and conversing and others passing by. A painting doesn’t have the aromas and sounds of the café, but Birdie’s did and both were inviting.
Have you seen these kinds of signs anywhere?
All the tables were full and as I took this photo, a woman in a nearby table caught my eye. She nodded and smiled. It was obvious she agreed with the message, as she enjoyed her cup of something delicious and read her book. If Hubby hadn’t been waiting–very patiently–for me I would’ve started up a conversation with her, asked her about her book and about the sign. As I stood there, I wondered how many of those in the coffee shop come to that space because of that sign, that it’s a place where any interaction with others has to be in person, face-to-face. I wondered if having that imposed break from screens was a challenge at first, before it became welcome. I would’ve asked the woman at the table if that was the case for her.
Of course, the main reason for me to stop in at Birdie’s again was to check out the books. One of the things I like about indie bookstores is they seem to get away with stocking lesser-known titles as well as the bestsellers. Charlotte once had a theater that showed only artsy, somewhat under-the-radar movies; I think of indie bookstores in the same vein. I’ve found popular books in them, and the price was comparable to what I’d pay at a chain bookstore, but I’ve also found gems I wouldn’t have found browsing the aisles in a big box store.
Case in point are the three books I bought during this visit!
I keep a book list on my phone, but I often go into a bookstore without a specific book in mind, (a dangerous thing, I know!) and I always look at the poetry section. Hubby saw my purchases after we got home and made the joke, ‘Did you purposely buy books by authors whose names you couldn’t pronounce?’ Well, actually I kinda did.
I’m trying to broaden my reading to include authors and poets from other countries, ethnicities, etc. –which is why I bought 52 Diverse Titles Every Book Lover Should Read. I’ll tell you more about this book next week.
I picked up both poetry books for the same reasons–they were from poets from other countries and ethnicities, and both poets were writing from a place of war, protest, and displacement. And hope. Their poems are a record, and these are important voices.
In Call Me By My True Names, Thich Nhat Hanh ends each poem with a note about when and why the poem was written. Those notes deepen the poem, but I’m glad they come at the end. I like reading a poem without knowing all the background information first, then the ‘aha’ moment when I go back and reread the poem with that new insight.
In Motherfield, Julia Cimafiejeva’s poems are first written in Belarusian then translated to English. The first quarter of the book are pages from her diary, beginning August 7, 2020, two days before the presidential election in Belarus, and finishing March 11, 2021 after she has escaped to Graz, Austria.
I’ll share more about each of these collections during National Poetry Month in April.
As I mentioned at the beginning, all is right in my corner of the world (other than the final annoyances of a head cold), but my corner of the world is pretty small. While I gather diverse voices to enrich my knowledge, in the past few weeks the South Carolina Arts Commission, the organization that’s supposed to advocate the arts for all, has denied the applications of several artists and artist groups because of a new Christian Nationalist leaning. It’s a scary time for writers and artists, but I have hope because oppressed voices always find a way to rise.
May your corner of the world be colorful and warm and cozy as these autumn days settle in. Next week is Book Review Monday! I hope you’ll join me.
