Ethan Rutherford was celebrating the release of his debut collection of stories, The Peripatetic Coffin, and Benjamin Percy celebrated the release of his second novel, Red Moon.  Each author has some legit Minnesota ties (Rutherford attended the U, worked at Magers & Quinn, and taught at Macalester.  Percy is currently the writer in residence at St. Olaf’s in Northfield. Plus, his two previous books came out with Graywolf, and he has a craft book coming out with them in 2015).  Othwerwise, though, the readers had to stretch to find a bit of common ground.

Rutherford began by stating that he’d taught himself to write by reading Percy’s book Refresh Refresh. These two collections do bear some similarities, especially in the line-by-line fervor of their prose.  Short fiction is a genre that depends on firm, bold decisions in regard to word choice and syntax (let alone character, description, and plot). Both Rutherford’s and Percy’s short stories are exemplary in this regard. But Percy wasn’t here to read short stories, while Rutherford certainly was.

For his reading, Rutherford did something I’ve never seen an author do: he started reading in the middle of a story, and then he didn’t read all the way to the end. Nothing but rising action: he wooed us with his language and brought us to the precipice,  then left us dangling. His stories have been described as funny, intelligent, wildly creative, and they are all of those things, but this one was laced with an undercurrent of horror–a choice Rutherford made  to match the tone of the evening.

Percy followed that by reading a pair of high-drama excerpts from his high-brow werewolf tome. The book seems primed to take off, spawn a movie franchise, sell a jillion copies, launch him into a Stephanie Meyer-like spotlight.  But even if Red Moon is an insightful, lyrical, intelligent examination of post-9/11 American phobia, anyone who sees Percy read from it is going to come away with one thought: dude’s voice is low.

Not just deep, not just rich, but like every word he speaks gets hauled up from the bottom of a murky well.  There are tones in his voice that haven’t seen daylight in centuries.  Ben Percy’s voice has evolved so that it no longer develops eyeballs; its skin is translucent. You can see Ben Percy’s voice’s heart pump the blood through its veins.

He’s also a practiced reader.  He performed the audiobook rendition of Red Moon, he told us. Reading for eight hours a day.  By the second day his throat was so dry he was coughing blood.  ”You can hear it on disc two.” I’m not a huge fan of listening to books (I am a huge fan of reading them) but this might be an occasion where I’d like to try it.  He’s a theatrical reader, beyond the depth–he performs his work, drawing out the vowels and giving each sentence a haunting weight.  At this reading, at least, I could imagine the flashlight held under his chin. I could imagine the terrified, giddy children.

The authors took a joint Q&A afterward, answered questions about their process and their plans for future books, discussed the challenges of balancing a writing life with fatherhood.  Both were gracious and charming and seemed perfectly at ease behind the podium.  It might have been because the seats were full of familiar faces from the Twin Cities literary crowd–Peter Geye and Dylan Hicks were in the crowd, David Enyeart from Common Good Books and Caroline Casey from Coffee House Press.  We’d all come to Edina to be transported, and it’s safe to assume that  for the duration of this reading, everybody in the audience forgot where they were, too.  Whether in Barnes & Noble, an independent bookstore, the public library, or at home with a book on your lap and your favorite reading lamp shining, a good book has the power to render your environment neutral. That’s the difference between books and other kinds of products. Books don’t just change you, they change everything around you, too.

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com. Be sure to check the schedule to the right to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event.

So here’s the deal: they rented out an old warehouse in Northeast Minneapolis (in the historic Thorp building, also home to Diamond’s Coffee Shoppe).  They designed and constructed a series of audio/video-equipped booths (i.e. confessionals) in which attendees could step inside and anonymously confess crimes, guilty secrets, or anything else a person feels the need to get off their chest.  Elsewhere in the room, other partygoers could slip on a pair of headphones and listen to the stories people had to tell–no punishment, no judgment, just expression and voyeurism at their finest.

The site was an eerie combination of draftiness and mystique–Revolver and event staff ran around with black lace masks–while the various islands of activity pulled the vast room together. One section had been devoted to Emily Baxter’s “We Are All Criminals” exhibition, in which artful photos were paired with brief, anonymous accounts of  writers’ transgressions. The only indication of each author’s identity was their profession (eg “bank teller”) and the crime they committed (eg “burglary”).  Some of these stories heartfelt; others were gut-wrenching. Combined with the auditory confessions occurring elsewhere in the room, it was impossible not to reflect on the more sordid and exceptional moments in my own past–a frightening and exciting feeling that seemed, if anything, appropriate to the occasion.

Judging by the number of folks wandering around with professional-grade cameras, I’m assuming there will be many high-quality images floating around the webs in the near future–I’ll defer to those with skills for photos. Suffice it to say that Revolver is firmly among the most creative and exciting organizations in the Twin Cities both in regard to literary endeavors and party planning.  There was no question that Confess was a party: DJ Shannon Blowtorch‘s set was scheduled to kick in at 10:30, Summit Brewing was on hand to provide the social lubricant, and regret was in the air from the get-go.  As for this busy book lover, I regret to say that I got going rather early, but I look forward to hearing about all the mistakes everyone made.

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com. Be sure to check the schedule to the right to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event.

Held in the Turf Club’s “Clown Lounge”—a below ground room with ample seating and beers on tap—the venue sported quasi-tacky ephemera from the Minnesota north woods. The landscape paintings hanging on the wall may as well have been taken right out of the book: lakes and forests, sun-dappled cabins.  As if to complement the wry humor and ironic overtones that frequent Stonich’s prose, the Clown Lounge even boasts stuffed-and-mounted rear end of a deer.

The venue was so suited to the book that I didn’t even pause to wonder why it didn’t host readings more often. The walls are lined with booths, and a sizeable open space in the center is perfect for removable seating. There’s even something of a stage at the far end, with lights and a fully functioning sound board. It’s a literary event’s dream space, provided the music venue upstairs isn’t thunderously rocking out.

The room, though, was a small part of what made this event such a perfect celebration of Vacationland’s release.  As a novel in stories, the book is composed of many different voices.  It was only fitting that Stonich invited some friends and fellow authors to read various portions of the book.  Danny Klecko stared down a bull moose, Carol Connolly hatched a homicidal plot, and Martin Kihn lusted after underage sunbathers. Later in the evening, Peter Geye, Pamela Klinger-Horn, Kathryn Kysar, and Andy Sturdevant all read from sections of the book, as well.  Each reader brought their own personality to the words, their own interpretation of syntax and emphasis, and it showed just how distinct the chapters and characters of Vacationland are.

Because this was a party, there were also games and favors. Everyone received a Vacationland beer coaster, and participants in the fashion contest competed for coveted Hamm’s-themed awards: a wall clock, two retro prints, mousepads, and beer cozies were gifted to the individuals wearing the best camo, most plaid, best example of blaze orange, and the most obvious “612er”—that is, someone very clearly visiting the northwoods from the big city.

The Vacationland book launch was everything you could ask for in a literary event: creative, entertaining, and well executed. Above all, it offered a thorough sense of the book we were there to celebrate, and it made this attendee want to go home and read it.  I’m wont to think that this was by design.

*Update: for some great reactions and photos, visit the Facebook Event.

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event. See you around!

Main exhibit hall

The BWF was held on Saturday, March 23 in the Bloomington Center for the Arts, a strikingly  modern building/complex which also houses City Hall and the Police Station. Exhibitors set up in the spacious atrium and along a tall-windowed hallway that jutted from one end of the room like a capital L.  When I arrived, in the middle of the day, keynote speaker Tom Clegg had already concluded his lecture, workshops and readings were in full swing, and the exhibit hall buzzed with the din of writers, editors, and publishers mingling and milling through the exhibit hall.

Norton Stillman of Nodin Press

Like-minded organizations were grouped into clusters, so that “resources for writers” took up the bulk of the main exhibit, with the rest of the tables hosting authors, cordoned by genre.  Poetry, inspiration, and memoir filled out the main room; Sci-fi, YA, and fiction occupied the base of the L.  Anyone interested in sitting down at the lunch tables, at the far end of this hallway, had to pass between tables of authors standing behind piles of the books they were there to support. It felt ever-so-slightly like passing through a gauntlet–though I can’t think of a much more pleasant gauntlet than one made of books.

I saw a few familiar faces and a couple of titles I recognized, and I also met quite a number of authors I’d never heard of. After taking a loop and chatting with a few vendors (I made a print with MCBA, perused Nodin Press’s catalog, stopped at chatted with the fine representatives from the Loft), it became clear that this festival’s emphasis, whether by design or not, catered to the massive swell in independent (read: self) publishing.

Friendly folks from the Minnesota Center for Book Arts

With such a strong contingent of individuals selling books they’d written, designed, printed, publicised, and sold themselves–largely at festivals such as this–I couldn’t help but wonder what the event looked like in its infancy.  Ten years ago self-publishing existed, but it certainly didn’t have anywhere near the widespread acceptance it does today.  Part of this is technological–individual authors have access to the software they need to produce a book, and digital printing has cut costs to make it possible for a single person to make a print run. More and more authors elect to publish their books themselves, or lean on publishing services such as lulu and CreateSpace, as well as quasi-traditional houses like Beaver’s Pond Press and Northstar Press of St. Cloud, to get their work off of their laptops and into the world. It’s a trend, or a movement, or a side-effect, but as the BWF showed, it’s something to pay attention to if you’re not already.

The gauntlet

The traditional publishing industry has long held its nose at the concept of self-publishing, possibly in part because it challenges the basic assertions of the industry: editors exist for a reason, as do designers, publicists, and distributors, and if a book isn’t good enough to make someone else want to publish it, it probably shouldn’t be published.  Self-publishing forces us to ask who the establishment thinks it is to unilaterally determine what’s good enough to publish? Looking at the wares on display in the gauntlet, I’ll admit that to me, self-published books seem a bit junior varsity–that bleached paper, the glossy covers, the lazer jet printing.  Talk about judging a book by its cover.  How about judging a book by the book? Not the content, but by the actual physical object.  There is no question that a Knopf deckle edge hardcover, or even a Penguin PBO, is a superior physical product than anything you can print on demand.

But something else announced itself in that hallway of self-published authors. I mentioned before that part of the surge in self-publishing can be attributed to technology and affordability. Another factor in this surge is the way bands of self-published authors league up to help each other find opportunities to market, promote, and sell their titles.  A network of individuals with similar goals, similar avenues, and similar mentalities, all willing to help each other, learn from each other, launch rabid campaigns on Goodreads for each other and write ebullient reviews on Amazon for each other. Writers who choose to publish their own work  are finding something that the traditional New York establishment offers in only the smallest, tenuous doses: affirmation. Not the traditional affirmation of being a “good writer,” or having written a “good book.” Self publishing offers the affirmation of taking part in something, of belonging to something, of believing in something.

I can’t say I’ve fully formulated my opinion about self-publishing, but I’m honing in on the spectrum on which I believe self-publishing falls.  One one end, it is a counter-establishment DIY revolution; on the other, it’s a predatory capitalist scheme. Somewhere in the middle, it is a community of ambitious, imaginative, and industrious writers. Seen this way, it’s hard to look down your nose at something like that.

–RHM

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event. See you around!

If you are unfamiliar with the Twin Cities’ most famous community book club, Publishers Weekly had an excellent feature a few weeks ago celebrating the group’s tenth anniversary. (You can read it here for a better handle on the history and format of the group’s meetings.)  Meeting three times a month in Minneapolis, St. Paul, and “Chanhappenin’”, Books & Bars is a great way to get your bookish kicks, especially if you are looking for intelligent literary discussion without the commitment issues of a small reading group. In a lot of ways, it’s similar to a college lit class, but with fewer traditional students and more beer. Sounds great, right? It is, usually, though sometimes the drink specials lead to a certain type of contributor… The “I had a wine and I have opinions!” person isn’t always illuminating, but the reason Books & Bars is one of the most important literary staples in the Twin Cities is that the atmosphere and discussion are so approachable, the event attracts people from all walks of life. Each evening brings a unique crowd and conversation.

On Tuesday discussion centered on the relationship between justice and revenge; why Joe, The Round House’s protagonist couldn’t have been anything except a thirteen-year-old boy; and how amazing it was that Louise Erdrich was able to successfully use literature to shape policy in providing more protections for Native American women through the Violence Against Women Act. We imagined alternate scenarios if certain plot points had gone in different directions. We geeked out over Louise Erdrich’s Star Trek fandom. (Well, I didn’t, but people did.) We worked through (read: debated) some fuzzy plot points as a large group. We spent an hour telling each other what we loved and what we hated about the book.

My favorite moment of the night happened when Jeff did a quick poll to see how many people had read Erdrich before The Round House. There were two die-hard Erdrich enthusiasts in the house who had read everything she has written. One was an elderly woman and one was a younger dude. Watching those two acknowledge each other across the room reminded me why Books & Bars is such a hit. There is something very special in having a meaningful connection with a stranger.

Want in? Catch part three of The Round House discussion this Tuesday, March 19^th at the Amsterdam Bar and Hall in St. Paul.

—AKS

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event. See you around!

Taking place in the main gallery of the Minneapolis College of Art and Design on Wednesday, February 20 2013, the inaugural edition of WORDLAB enticed its audience  with performances by AT Grant, Maria Damon, and Sarah Fox, each appearing after an open mic that featured first-time readers as well as seasoned veteran poets. Minnesota Book Award-winner Lightsey Darst curated and hosted the event, and so credit goes to Darst for creating a series so suited to MCAD’s gallery space. The room’s idiosyncratic architecture, multimedia capabilities, and walls adorned with youthful art perfectly complemented the tone of the reading: irreverent, yet accomplished.

While the readers didn’t vary in terms of genre (all five of the open-mic readers were poets, too) the similarities ended there. AT Grant, whose book Collected Alex will see publication by Caketrain, began his reading not by stepping up to the mic and holding a sheet of paper, but with an audience member standing up and targeting the poet with a mimed video camera. Another volunteer (Sarah Fox this time) emerged with a set of cue cards from which Grant read his work. Grant himself, dressed in a suit, played the role of Nixon-esque politician, while decrying the metapoetical merits of his poem’s speaker. The poetry itself was strong—fascinating language that would have captivated sans the schtick. Yet the performative aspects of Grant’s reading added a something too often left out of poetry: surprise.  The showbiz props and political themes electrified his language: it would have been good on its own, but this was something different.  This was art that could only occur live, in person, in the instant in which it was happening, in the company of others.

AT Grant reads from Collected Alex.

After the cozy crowd of twenty-five or so recovered and applauded, Lightsey Darst introduced “our next over-sharer,” Maria Damon. Damon, a poetry professor at UMN, tossed bags of dried fruit and nuts into the audience, cranked up some psychedelic classic rock, and set in motion a slideshow of her needlepoint work. As we nibbled and shared the food, the slides cycled through a few times. At the song’s conclusion (it seemed to be a long song. Long enough for me to think, “How long is this song?”) Damon shared some physical examples of her needlepoint work, even passing a piece around the audience like show and tell. Finis.

When Sarah Fox stood up to read, she said, “I feel so weird. I’m actually going to read poems.” Which she did. At least a couple of these came from her new book The First Flag. To commemorate the recent resignation of the pope, Fox declared a papal theme to her reading, and somehow poems that touched upon tarot archetypes, astrological phenomena, and global systems of patriarchal oppression did wind up coming back around.

An open mic and three wildly different poetry performances held in a collegiate space devoted to visual arts; or, just another day in the Twin Cities lit scene. WORDLAB (named after MC Hyland’s bygone “Pocketlab” series) will return in a couple of months, and hopefully it will remain an accurate portrait of how strange a concoction of writers we are.

–RHM

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event? Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event. See you around!

Let us know about an event we missed by emailing us at LitSeen.MPLS@gmail.com, and be sure to weigh in on an event you attended in the comments. We welcome others’ perspectives, and are always eager to hear about literary events we couldn’t make it to (it’s a blessing and a curse to love lit in the Twin Cities, where hundreds of events occur every month). Our writers are devoted readers and participants in the literary community, and if you’re the same, we hope you’ll feel like being a part of LitSeen.org!

Photo by Rebekah Peterson, http://www.my-broadsheet.com

So why a bookstore?

We love books!

Was there a particular moment when you knew that opening a bookstore was something you wanted to do—some formative experience in another bookstore or library, or a reading experience that led you to a life of book-loving? 

(Jamie) I used to publish books, and traveled around the country a few times selling a book that I wrote, so it was really the small, independent book stores that kept my gas tank full—I can’t say that experience made me want to open a bookstore—it seemed like really hard work!  Angela is a total book maniac.  She’s very talented and versatile, but it’s kind of hard to imagine her doing anything else.

(Angela) Well, I worked at Paperback Exchange at 50th and Penn for over a decade.  I loved it, but I’m excited to sell new books that reflect my interests and tastes more, and to work closer to home.  Other than the book maniac part, I’m also the type of person that likes having my own business.  It’s always really appealed to me and involving books seemed like the thing to do.

Sounds like a solid background in bookselling… hang on…  Jamie, this would be a pretty ridiculous coincidence, but about a decade ago I was at a concert in Portland, Oregon and a guy who kind of looked like you, now that I think of it, came up to me and sold me a book.  It’s called Tales of a Punk Rock Nothing—that wasn’t you by any chance, was it?

(Jamie) YES that was me who sold you that book!  How funny!  I sold books in Portland a few times—with Reading Frenzy, Powell’s and Ozone Records (RIP) there it was always worth my while. Do you remember what show that was?

Not at all.  I do remember that I was reading at the time, and you pitched it well.  I reread it a couple of years ago, too–it stands up!  After reading the jacket again, I see that you spent some time in Iowa City… What led you to the Twin Cities?

(Angela) I’m from northern Minnesota and Jamie grew up in Iowa City.  I’ve lived all over the city and when I was looking to settle wanted to be near the light rail and the Midtown Greenway.  I like south Minneapolis in general but Powderhorn felt good to me.  I like being close to stuff and being able to get to and from places easily.

(Jamie) I moved back to the Midwest from the East Coast in 2007, to be closer to my family and have a better quality of life—yards, gardens, etc.  My brother and his family, plus some old friends of mine were living in South Minneapolis, and I really liked it.  I remember walking on a bridge over the greenway in February, and seeing people riding their bikes, and thinking, “If things are this nice in February, it’s gonna be great around here in the summer!”

Your specific location seems like a real up-and-coming neighborhood. The bookstore is right beside Peace Coffee and Trylon Microcinema—were these factors in choosing the location? Are there any other factors that led to your choice of this particular neighborhood?

(Jamie) We are thrilled to have a store that we can walk to from our house in Powderhorn.  Angela is one of the founders of the Trylon microcinema so she was spending a fair amount of time in the building already.

(Angela) I think the kind of person who wants to go see a movie the old-fashioned way on a screen with other people is also the kind of person that gets bookstores as a destination of value in the community.  Something really essential.  And we both love Peace Coffee, – for their great coffee and for the foot traffic they bring to the building.  It’s the kind of coffee shop where people are working and reading, and not just on their laptops and tablets but actual paper books.

(Jamie) The people who work there are big readers too!

(Angela) The neighborhood is very supportive of local businesses.  Longfellow is happening.   There are so many readers and book-lovers here—and not just readers but writers.   It seemed like a really great location.

Angela, I didn’t realize you were a co-founder of the Trylon, that’s cool!  Do you feel like that experience paved the way for Moon Palace?

(Angela) Helping out at the Trylon, I’ve definitely learned a lot business stuff.  I like looking at profit and loss statements and that kind of thing. Probably my biggest contribution at the Trylon has been filling out the application for non-profit status from the IRS.  I’ve learned not to be intimidated by mountains of paperwork, which is good because opening a business involves a lot of paperwork.

How has the response to the store been? Has anything surprised you about being entrepreneurs, or about being booksellers in particular? 

(Angela) It’s been great.  People have been really enthusiastic.   We weren’t really sure what kinds of books people would be excited about or if they’d even be excited about us at all but the response has been great.

We were expecting to do more used book business than new, but it’s been the other way around.  There’s been a lot of really great books coming out in the past few months, and people are really excited about them.  As far as being entrepreneurs goes there are a lot of challenges.  If we don’t do something, it doesn’t get done.  I’ve had to learn to twitter.  Drupal.  Taxes.  I like those kinds of challenges and figuring things out but some days just responding to emails keeps me busy.  The hardest part is being surrounded by so many more books but having less time to read.

(Jamie) The public wants way more Star Wars books than I ever thought possible.

You get your name from the Paul Auster novel, no? Out of context, it does have a slightly Sci-Fi ring to it—maybe the Star Wars requests might find some explanation there… I work for Rain Taxi, and people always ask what the name means—do you get that question a lot?

(Angela) We do get asked that a lot!  I have a copy of Moon Palace on display on the counter, and that’s kind of helped people figure it out.  People usually assume it’s my favorite book but we’ve had a couple of people assume we’re a New Age store.  I usually tell people Moon Palace was the book that turned me into a reader because that is true.  When I read it I was just figuring out what kind of reader I was and what kind of things I like to read.  It’s the story of a guy in New York who inherits boxes of books from an uncle.  He uses the boxes for furniture and then when things get hard he reads them and sells them.  I liked the name and I liked the way it sounded with Trylon (named from the Trylon and Perispere structures from the 1939 World’s Fair in Queens) and Peace Coffee Wonderland Park (Wonderland Park is the name of a Minneapolis amusement park that used to be located where we are now) and I thought they sounded good together.

I think of bookstores function as community centers, landmarks where people gather and share ideas. Do either of you have a background in community involvement or serve the community in other ways?

(Jamie) We’ve both lived and worked at local businesses here for a while. I’ve helped with organizing the community garden on our street, and Angela has volunteered all over the place for the last 15 years.  We also have a 1 year old daughter now, so that’s giving us lots of new ways to be involved, but decreasing our time to be involved in some of the ways we have been in the past.

“The economy” is used as such a scare tactic these days, and many people view the publishing industry, at least the print part of it, as a dangerous business to be in. How did you overcome this pessimism? 

(Jamie) We really think it’s a great time to start a bookstore.  People are looking for more meaningful ways to spend their leisure time, things that connect them with the world around them, and want to live in a neighborhood with businesses that they can walk or bike to.

(Angela) People still want to browse books and still want to touch stuff before they buy it—even people who buy ebooks still buy actual paper books and often want to do it at a place that matters to them.   They want to go to a bookstore and buy from someone else who loves to read.

(Jamie) There’s this perception that small, local bookstores are all going out of business and being destroyed by the Internet and the big chain stores, but actually a lot of independent bookshops are thriving.  Not every local business will last forever—some are labors of love, requiring way more work from an obsessed owner than anyone who might buy the place would want to put in, or they depend on the owner’s or staff’s lifetime of experience, that just can’t be passed on when they retire.  Some stores are successful for a while, but then a neighborhood changes, or different kinds of books become more popular and not all stores change with the times.  Right now is a really good time to be a bookstore in a neighborhood where people are interested in gardening and queer history, and left wing politics—it’s pretty unlikely that you’re going to be shopping at Wal-Mart or Target and find an employee there who can recommend a good book on permaculture gardening or social justice movements in Minnesota—and really unlikely that they’ll have it in stock.

(Angela) I also think personally that the Twin Cities is full of readers and writers and publishers and great bookstores.  I think more bookstores can make for more readers.  I love that I can send people to other stores and I do.  Not just for stuff that I don’t have but because other stores are full of good things and visiting them is part of the great experience of living here and visiting here.

The TCDailyPlanet article last December mentioned that you were selling ebooks through your website, and I noticed that you had a Kobo display in your store.  Have you been selling a lot of ereaders, or has there been a strong interest? I know you share my love of print, but I’m curious how you’ve embraced—or at least accepted—this digital wave in the industry.

(Angela) We are selling ereaders and ebooks.  It’s kind of a big experiment.  We’ve sold some, but not a lot.  Selling any felt like a surprise to me.  When we talked to people about ebooks we were surprised at how many people had ereaders and really wished they could buy ebooks from an independent bookstore.  Some were embarrassed that they had a Kindle.  I think ebooks make sense for a lot of people.  I just think that people who think they will completely replace paper books aren’t thinking.  I’m not afraid of technology—I’m just not as in love with it as a lot of people.

(Jamie) Interest has definitely increased since the Arc tablet came out a few weeks ago.  I think it just catches people’s eye more in the store—it has color, and you can watch videos, etc, so people notice it on the counter more than the other ereaders which are smaller and have black-and-white displays. Ereaders aren’t something that people are buying every week or month, so I don’t expect to sell a ton at first.  But I think it’s good for people to see that there’s something out there that they can get at their local bookstore, and they can buy the ebooks from us, instead of a big chain.  Just having the ereaders on display is a conversation-starter—it helps people find out that they can buy ebooks from their local bookstore and read them on an ipad or whatever.

(Angela) I definitely love being able to tell people they have no excuse for buying their books on Amazon.  If they want ebooks, they can get them from us. I think a paper book has better value but honestly that might depend on the book.  Also, as far as the book industry goes, I’m not sure that ebooks are really the biggest change happening right now.  As a bookseller, I hear way more talk about self-publishing, and I think there are big changes going on in the production and distribution of paper books that have the potential to impact independent book stores more than ebooks.

Sometimes you team up with Trylon for film/book events.  Are literary events a factor in your plans for the store? Do you see literary events as valuable, and if so, how/why?

(Jamie) We’re really excited to have more literary events, and team up with the Trylon more.  Our time slots are limited to mornings and afternoons, or evenings when there’s no film showing, because we share a wall with the Trylon, so noise is an issue.  We can hear the movies and the movie audiences would hear any event we’re having.  But we think literary events are a great way for book nerds to be social, for people to check out a kind of writing or book that they might be curious about.  They’re a great way for authors to connect with readers, and they generally create the sense of living in a community that values literature and literacy.

Do you often recommend books to customers, or do they mostly know what they’re looking for? Are there any books or genres you’ve seen selling better than others? Any you’ve found yourself recommending on a regular basis?

(Angela) We love making recommendations—some people come in knowing what they want, but a lot of folks have come in just to check out the store and were interested to see what we’d recommend.  And I personally love getting book recommendations from customers too.  I like hearing what people are reading, what they’re liking, what they’re disappointed by.

(Jamie) Angela has worked really hard on the new book section, and I so just looking at the new books on our shelves is sort of like getting her recommendations.  We’ve been selling a lot of cookbooks, a lot of poetry, and pretty much all kinds of fiction—mainstream, experimental, graphic novels.  And of course, we sell a lot of film-related books, being next to the Trylon.  And once again, much to my surprise, we will sell a lot of anything with Yoda or Darth Vader on the cover.

(Angela) I’ve definitely ordered stuff that I’m excited about and that I would want to read.  I tend to be a pretty generous reader, maybe too much and I’ll read almost anything.  If it’s a book then I’ll probably like it.

Be sure to swing by Moon Palace Books, 2820 E 33rd Street, Minneapolis MN,  and ask for a recommendation! I hear they have some quality Star Wars titles fresh in stock.

–RHM

How can a group of young editors (primarily co-founders Meghan Murphy and Jamie Millard) have such a profound effect on a community, especially one so committed to its print traditions? Over a short span and with the help of additional staff (Courtney Algeo, Holly Harrison, and many other behind-the-scenes contributors), Paper Darts has shown not only the editorial acumen to build and grow a legitimate online and print magazine of literature and art, but the creativity, courage, and ambition to expand their brand into multiple realms of the local arts and culture scene. From its adventurous, performance-based launch parties to its social-hour-esque reading events, Paper Darts brings ingenuity and verve to seemingly every project it takes on.

This is an awesome museum.

Take, for instance, Third Thursday: Art & Lit with Paper Darts, which took place on January 17, 2013.  Third Thursday is an ongoing program run by the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, where the enormous, amazing art museum provides free admission and various themes to attract audiences.  The decision to team up with Paper Darts seemed like an odd pairing at first, but it created some wide-open potential, something with which Paper Darts works well. Early publicity suggested literary-themed activities like writing prompts and art-specific stories. How exactly these activities would be incorporated into to the vast museum space was anyone’s guess.

On the night of the event, streams of young, fashionable folk flooded the entrance. People waited in line for an event about which nobody had a clear idea, other than the fact that it would be stylish, fun, and much-talked-about. Suffice it to say that this event was planned and executed about as perfectly as any event could be. Not only were the activities stunningly creative and entertaining, they were also gorgeously produced with Paper Darts’s trademark flair for graphic design.

Courtney Algeo lays it down.

At the front doors, the Paper Darts editorial staff greeted attendees and explained how the event worked: each attendee chose one of the four packets, each containing the first page of a story by either Ed Bok Lee, John Jodzio, Maggie Ryan Sanford, or Katie Heaney. Printed on a postcard with a clean and classic font, you read the first part of your story and then followed the instructions to find the next card, located somewhere in the museum. Each packet came with a map specific to that story, so you could find your way around the building. I chose Kate Heaney’s story “The Ts,” read my card, and was off.

postcard-sized cover art for my CYOA story

My second card offered a plot choice: if my character acted this way, I had to go to one side of the museum to find out what happened next. If she acted another, I was sent to a completely separate wing. I was choosing my own adventure while also embarking into the far corners of the museum, able to observe world-class paintings and sculptures as I went. Plus, I got to collect a limited edition, multi-card version of a pretty nice short story!

“That’s quite an exquisite corpse you’ve got there.”

Similarly clever ideas included the exquisite corpse–a collaborative work of art, rather than a writing exercise, wherein participants drew on a segment of material and then passed it down for another person to continue the work. The ultimate product was collaged on the wall in the shape of what looked like a dainty leprechaun . . . .  Throw in live music, cool purple lights, buzzing atmosphere, and a bar, and you have some of the best people-watching the Twin Cities has to offer. If you’re ever wondering what this whole “cool” thing everybody’s talking about is, head down to a Paper Darts event. It’s on full display.

Also on full display, and the quiet star of the show, was the amazing art collection at the Institute. It is a museum far too rich to be enjoyed in a single visit. I left knowing it was okay to feel like I hadn’t gotten around to viewing everything. I will return, and hopefully, so will many of the people who partook in the brilliant collaboration with Paper Darts. As for it being an odd pairing, it turned out not to be a stretch at all, and I’m happy to give the MIA staff credit for reaching out to the literary world–maybe some day soon I’ll finally make it to one of their book tours, which has always sounded like a great way to spend a couple of hours.

Any community with the Loft Literary Center, three astounding indie presses, and multiple graduate programs fostering creative writing is going to have a strong, vibrant literary community. I can’t give Paper Darts all the credit, but I’ll give them credit for this: they do what they do with astounding skill, and “what they do” is continually expanding. They are an asset and an ally to anyone in the Twin Cities who cares about art and literature. And boy, can they throw a party.

–RHM

[Author's Note, 1-26-13: I revised a phrase in this piece from the original posting. Formerly, the sentence in question characterized the Twin Cities as "staunchly set in its prim-and-print traditions." This  is a poor characterization, and it  suggests the Twin Cities' attitude toward its print traditions is somehow misplaced. I've revised the piece to more accurately describe my opinion: that without our print tradition, there would be no literary community.]

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event. See you around!

Magers & Quinn was sparsely attended on Thursday, January 17 2013.  Less than ten people warmed the metal folding chairs set up in the poetry section to hear the author read–and most of those were from a high school class and needed to attend a literary event for extra credit.  Of the rest of us, I was the only one who didn’t know Bill Roorbach personally. In an uncommon show of friendliness and extroversion, the author (a breed of human more typically prone to meekness or at least faux modesty) came over to me and struck up a conversation.  We chatted for five minutes about this and that–Mill Ruins Park and some mountains in southern Texas where we’d both spent a bit of time–until the M&Q staff gave a brief introduction. When he addressed the “crowd,” his presentation had the same informal tone as our conversation.

Bill Roorbach relates details of his life pertinent to his new new novel.

To call this a “reading” would be, technically, correct.  But he didn’t read from his new book until he’d chatted haphazardly for nearly an hour.  Without mentioning why, he launched into an autobiographical narrative that would have made for a killer novel all its own: when young Bill Roorbach realized that his dreams to become a rock star might require supplemental funding, he found a job taking care of an abandoned estate.  The property was a mansion unlike homes we now associate with the descriptor–the place was a palace.  It had been abandoned for thirty years, and Roorbach basically took up living in it, inviting his friends and bandmates to live in it as well.  They each occupied separate wings, and came together mostly to play music–which they did in the bottom of the dried-out pool.  This pool had a deep end of more than twenty feet (!), which functioned as an amphitheater.

One night as they were rocking out after hours, they heard another band in the distance–there were several other mansions a ways away, lining the top of a ridge that looked down over the property Roorbach took care of.  ”The music,” he said, “seemed impossibly loud.  We cranked everything up and tried to match it, but it was just overpowering.”

The next day, he asked the mailman who was staying in the mansion on the ridge.  ”Some rock band,” the mailman said.  ”I’d never heard of them.  Something about a Zeppelin?” That wailing they’d heard carrying over the distance was that of Roorbach’s idol, Jimmy Page.

Bill Roorbach, circa 1975. From billroorbach.com

He attempted to deliver his band’s demo tape to rock legends, but was turned away at the door by the most stunning woman he’d ever seen–a dancer, the mailman later informed him.  Which led into a recount of his New York years, where he worked as a carpenter and played music, and dated a professional ballerina. He discussed his love of The Great Gatsby and he discussed his adventures in Denmark, where he toured as a musician under the name “Cowboy Bill.” All eight or nine of us in the audience listened along, marveling at his tales but also at ease in the presence of a gifted storyteller.  Off the cuff, talking with his hands and using his body to illustrate points, he had command not only of the language but of narrative, of his audience, of the process of delivering a story, like no one I’ve seen before.

When he did finally read from the book, which was inspired by the melange of experiences he’d just so thoroughly described, his written prose was similarly superb.  Rather than read a cliff-hanging excerpt, or the first several pages of the book, or some snippet that would arouse interest and inspire us to purchase it, he chose to read the last paragraph he wrote (not the last paragraph of the book), and then the first paragraph he wrote (not the first paragraph of the book).  Even in these two brief excerpts, influences from the stories he’d just told about his own life were evident. I had been so entertained by his rambling that I hadn’t thought about it, but the entire reading/ speech/ ramble/ story had been accomplishing something subtle–not just providing background or context. He’d been teaching us.  It had been a lecture, of sorts, on how to turn experience into literature. I anticipate that the lesson will only continue as I read the book–as it will for everyone else who was in attendance.  Because, in the surest sign of a successful reading, everybody left with a copy.

–RHM

PS–Be sure to check out Bill Roorbach’s entertaining blog at www.BillandDavesCocktailHour.com

Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event?  Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar to be at the next LitSeen.org attended event. See you around!