1. Just to dispel any initial illusions I have yet to meet someone in a bookstore who has time to read on the job. Ever. Maybe flip through a book, perhaps read the back but I don’t think a full novel has ever been read in a store whilst said store was open. And if you were reading, you’d better believe your coworkers are planning mutiny because they must be doing the work.
2. You will never meet someone with the same taste as you. No one will read a book you liked and agree with you, ever. This may be a problem exclusive to me ‘Little Miss American Psycho-Battle Royale-Fight Club’. But nine times out of ten you will be asked what someone should get for their 12 year old niece. (And none of the aforementioned books ever cut it)
3. To tie into that, you have to love every book ever even if the idea of it makes your skin crawl. Why? Because you must sell every book ever. Be all things to all people, let them know (in my case as diplomatically as you can muster) that Twilight is ‘a really hot seller’. And that ’sure, you loved it, and would recommend it to anyone’ You cannot be sarcastic or mean about it. You have no idea how many veins I’ve popped telling people terrible books are wonderful. But you have to, because you’re a sales person. You can try to distract them with something less painful but this smoke screen has rarely helped my efforts.
4. Furthermore, you have to know everything about every genre. Which in turn, seems to require you know everything about everything. From Fantasy to… Sports. ‘What’s a good book on plants? Does it include detailed information on where to plant my hostas? What do you MEAN you don’t know?” Very few people will legitimately believe that you have not read every book in the store.
5. You must be open to the usual plight of one working in customer service and consent to being treated like an idiot every single day. This is sort of a general law, but I figured I should include it, just to remind you. At twenty you get treated no better in a bookstore than at McDonald’s.
6. There are more stupid labour detail intensive time draining jobs in a bookstore then any other place I’ve worked. Starting with receiving the books (which used to require typing every ISBN to cross our doorstep into the computer — and even occasionally all the the book’s information such as the title and author, we’ve advanced since then but not much), labeling each book (and not with just a generic label, a specific label is needed to be matched to each one), attaching special orders to the right books or shelving them. A hideously extensive process just to get the books on the shelves. You also have to do inventory yearly (which involves putting your hand on every book in the store), and a return several times a year (which involves also touching every book in the store as well as scanning and shipping out old inventory– ordeal doesn’t begin to describe it) We actually just finished a return which is why I am so bitter today.
7. Special Orders are always mayhem, and you will never have the right book in stock. The only person who will have the right book is sitting eating Cheerios in their little Belgian publishing house. Or it’s a self pub, or out of print, or out of stock indefinitely. Even though the customer KNOWS they saw it at Chapters yesterday. Or they really need it… tomorrow. And well, they don’t know the title or the author but they will kill the next twenty minutes of your time telling you all about the plot. Because, as I said earlier, you have of COURSE read every book in the store. And every book ever written.
8. This is not really part of the list of why you don’t want to work in a bookstore, but what the hell — Amazon wants to sell ad space in Kindle E-book Readers? Because my brain isn’t already permanently jelly-ized by the other millions of commercials I see daily. If I’m buying an e-book reader and a book then damnit, I don’t want advertisers blinking in the corner of my eye. Myself being a grumpy old man aside. What is with commercials at movies? I’m only paying 20 bucks so you can blind me with fifteen minutes of ads. Okay, grumpy old man REALLY aside now.
9. If they come in the store at five to close they are a browser. There is no exception to this rule in recorded history.
10. Sometimes you learn more than you want to about your customers when they decide to buy that copy of the Kama Sutra. And they are seventy. And they have a suspicious looking drugstore bag. And usually no teeth.

Okay, my momentum has died, but I think that’s a good start, don’t you?

As I understand it, Twilight is one of those book conglomerates that you either love to the point where you leave your boyfriend (or… girlfriend, not be be gender exclusive) for the idea that ‘Edward’ might really be out there somewhere and not gay or married (as all the ‘good men’ allegedly are) or you hate Twilight more than Hitler and the Teletubbies combined. It’s a really toss up. I’m sure it doesn’t take a garbage man to figure out what camp your noble writer falls into.

Not that I don’t understand reading books that are wholly self indulgent and hold little-to-no literary value whatsoever. I read Battle Royale and I liked it god damn you, and no one can take that from me. And if you liked Twilight and its bastard half vampire offspring then I’m not going to shun you for having poor taste. But I think lines need to start being drawn in the sand. Like every gay basher, racist, and Twilight hater I’m going to preface this entry by saying I have friends who love Twilight, I don’t dislike them for this I just simply think their fanaticism is misplaced. Especially when Trainspotting exists, now Sick Boy, there’s a character to lust after.

The problem I have is like a visible and clearly isolated example of the problem I have with society in general. At least, its one of them. (Oh the humanity, a society rant, kill me right?) I hate that people tolerate having a big huge target painted on their backs. The fact that there is practically a mathematic formula for crap that people will throw their money at scares the shit out of me. And the fact that Stephanie-fucking-Meyer cashed in on it before I got the chance to, that also pisses me off. For a culture so proud of moving forward in toleration of differences people can still outwit us and return us to the base question ‘Is this what I want, or is that what other people want me to want?’

I’m a firm believer that we should not have to dumb down society to keep up with its slower members. But when a whole shelf of the bookstore is set aside for Vampire Lit it amazes me that people think ‘Oh let’s buy this!’ rather than ‘People with too much money are cashing in on the fact that one author had success.’

As always this returns me to my pet rant of the improper use of media. We have so many ways to transmit information, so many outlets, and granted, we can’t all write thoughtful and insightful pieces all the time (I, for example, never do) but I feel as though with so much thought power and access we are wasting creativity. Don’t get me started on the homogenization of the games industry I may cry or something.

Anyways, I should get back to being productive, I just needed to type a bit of that out.

Back a few weeks ago as part of my summer book marathon I picked up Trainspotting. I gave it a slightly less than glowing review because I found it a difficult read (and not in the ‘I’m an unintellectual nitwitway’, more the ‘I am being hit in the face with so much right now that my skull is reeling’) But I enjoyed it well enough, actually, I could even say I liked it. I wanted to give it another chance when I wasn’t reading seventy-five books in a summer. So, we decided to give the movie a chance anyways, because that was the bit that people were really raving to me about. The book, well it was okay, but the movie. And I really hate to say it but…

They were absolutely right.

Trainspotting was a great movie, it both blew your mind out your ears but really put your head in the space it needed to comprehend a druggie lifestyle. It doesn’t glorify the lifestyle but it gives you a fair enough ‘why’ it gives you one that you can accept. It was more linear and easier to wrap your head around. Maybe I’m a victim of society for saying it, but I definately need to read the book again more closely.

Additionally, I finished book six of the S75, that would be a Clockwork Orange. I think we should bring Nadsat into the current vocab, it would be completely horrorshow! Great book, I really need to watch the film again.

If nothing else I am reminded that Scott Adams (creator of Dilbert) is not only probably insane, but that I agree with him enough that I am also probably insane. I definately laughed out loud and would reccomend this book to anyone looking for a good laugh. At times he tries to get serious, which throw the pacing off a little bit, but I guess it may be a bit soul destroying to be ‘all funny all the time’

The book Geektastic is a compilation of stories about — you guessed it — Geeks. And if nothing else the book captures the pure essence of what a geek really is. Almost all of the stories ring embarassingly true stopping just shy of the insecurity point. I think I might have cringed at the LARP part just a little bit because that was ‘too nerdy’ even for me. If nothing else Geektastic is a great reassurance that you aren’t alone in your fanaticism. And that other people do love the crazy things you do.

I think my biggest problem with the book was most of the stories followed pretty much the same formula the nerd had his/her day, got the guy/girl and all lived happily ever after. It’s like going to what promises to be a great potluck party, and having everyone only bring coleslaw. I mean the party’s still there, you are just forced to wonder why no one called ahead to make sure not everyone was bringing the same thing. I mean, I guess if you’re writing for the Geek niche having a geek fail and then get hit by a bus would probably not help your readership.

Another thing that caught my eye was Libba Bray’s story. (Don’t get me wrong on this I am a huge fangirl of her Gemma Doyle trilogy and am waiting on the edge of my seat for anything else she ever writes). It was spectacular of course, and came as close as any of them came to being really meaty and gritty but… put beside all the other stories well, it stood out as being geared towards a much older audience. It was pretty surreal, the other stories about high school bullying and Libba’s involving underage sex. All of which was fine with me but it doesn’t fit. Either the other stories needed to step it up a notch, or Libba needed to tone it down.

There are also some notable nerdities missing, no gamers except MMORPGs and no anime and manga which I found particularly odd in a book about nerds.

If nothing else you have to read this book if you’re a nerd because they ‘nail it’. The feelings you’ve had, the situations you’ve been in, generally speaking you’ll find at least one story you’ll relate to. Inversely, if nerdy things are not your thing I’d probably say give it a pass.

Up next 69!

Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting oan a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mouth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shiteing yersel in a home, a total fuckin embarrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye’ve spawned to replace yourself. Choose life.

The first book of the summer seventy five is Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting. A book about drug culture in Edinburgh.

Trainspotting was an obvious first choice for me, though I have yet to decide if I liked it or not. Maybe when I’m not marathoning I’ll take the time to read it again. I’ve been told time and time again that I will love the movie that is based off this book because it’s ‘weird’ and, well, if nothing else it is that written exclusively in the Scottish vernacular it became very endearing very quickly. It is conversational and confessional in nature and so reading it is more like being privvy to a conversation than reading a book.

It can, however, be a bit rocky to read. It certainly adds to the effect of the novel. You generally feel as disoriented as the junkie who you happen to be following, written in quick vignettes. You’ll occasionally be at a loss for who you happen to be following in the malestrom of Scots. I half wish I could ask an actual Scot who has read the novel if it is more comprehensible. The novel is endlessly impactful, constantly punching a huge windhole where you thought you might have had guts at one point.

Do I recommend it? Well, I think its a patient read, one that you need to want to read. If you’re willing to hack through the slang, drugs, sex, and cursing there is something undeniably unbreakable about the book. You read it and realise that depravity is in the eye of the beholder. The message is there should you care enough to dig it out.

For me there is of course the added appeal of it being set in Edinburgh, where I lived a few months. You recognize place names and just wish you were back there.

Whether you chose to read it or not you cannot deny the attachment of the novel to the indulging of your wicked side.

I hope to write a short review for each of the summer seventy-five here, just to keep my writing brain going as well as my reading one. I want to get out a few chapters for a few of the stories I’m writing. Do less random forum writing, and more practical stuff.

Obviously I want to keep up my website design here too.

Anyways, I thought once I wrote that in my blog I’d actually do it. So, Summer Seventy-Five kicking off with Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh. Any reccomendations for books as offered by you, the internet, will be taken into consideration.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

An opening line fit both for American Psycho, and incidentally the gates of hell. American Psycho is not a book written for the faint of heart, but on the other hand I would be genuinely frightened to meet a person who wasn’t at least slightly repulsed by it. Even myself, an openly desensitized jackass, had to admit it was unnerving to the point where you just have to put it down for a moment and let your brain cool off.

The book is about a serial killer. Though, not your average foaming at the mouth sort of serial killer. Patrick Bateman is always cool, calm, and collected in public, though for probably no other reason than the fact that he is completely mad. A well off yuppie who the world has made so cold that violent executions do not seem to touch him at all.

I think the most effective part of the book is how meticulous it is. Ellis paces the story in a way that you really get into Patrick’s head as he itemizes people based on how expensive their attire is. It demonstrates amazingly well how inhuman he sees them. Perhaps, however, it is not that he sees them as inhuman, but himself as above human. At one point Patrick soliloquizes:

“I had all the characteristics of a human being—flesh, blood, skin, hair—but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that my normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning”

This insight of Bateman’s perhaps tells more of the story than his gruesome attacks ever could. He simply cannot feel. This is what adds much more interest to the end of the book. (If you have not read American Psycho, and plan on eventually reading it, skip the next paragraph).

It is when Patrick starts to question his own honesty, and if he has really committed the crimes that he starts to get concerned. It is not that he is worried about whether or not his victims have died, but rather if finally his sanity is giving out. And how breathtakingly honest this is. We don’t care about other people, only ourselves.

All in all, I would be hesitant to lend American Psycho to some people due to the graphic content. But in all honesty if you can get past that this is one hell of a book.