Independent Bookstore Day, Seattle Edition

Yesterday was Independent Bookstore Day across the United States (and possibly in Canada as well; I can't remember offhand if they synchronized this year; the UK is having an entire week!). #SEABookstoreDay is a pretty big deal, or so it seems if you're in the book business. Then again, I ran into an acquaintance I hadn't seen in years at Elliott Bay Book Company (our last stop and I was pretty fried by then) and asked if that was why she was there. No, she'd been for a reading. "I guess I heard something about that," she said. And this morning when I mentioned it to the Farmers Market woman from whom we buy pastries, she just looked a bit blank and said, no, she hadn't heard about that. So, perhaps, the nice folks behind IBD need to work on their outreach a bit more.

Or not, because pretty much all of the nine stores we got to yesterday were doing a pretty hopping business, and certainly Scott and I did our best to contribute to their continued well-being. We did not, obviously, get to all 23 participating shops nor even the 19 that were required to qualify as a finisher. (For stores with multiple branches, you only had to visit one location to get your passport stamped.) Sadly, we didn't manage to reach my own, seemingly more reasonable goal of hitting every shop within the Seattle city limits. Fantagraphics, in Georgetown, defeated us by opening fairly late but, really, by being in the wrong direction. And, okay, not getting out the door until 10:30 didn't help us any, though since we didn't get home until after 9:30 (aka 11 hours later), I'm not sure we could have survived an earlier start.

But out we got, despite the slight rain, on our bikes. Scott wisely put only one pannier on his bike so that I wouldn't load him down quite so much. (The bag that he insisted weighed 60 pounds by our last stop in reality was scarcely 25 pounds. But still.) It was a multi-modal sort of day, with us biking downtown where we caught a bus to the top of Queen Anne (the bus driver commented on our slackdom).

After collecting our passports and first couple of books at Queen Anne Book Company, we stopped next door at La Reve (which has an incredibly tempting display case: I so want to go back when I have more leisure) for the day's meal and a review of the Seattle Bike Map (circa 2013), cross-referencing it with Google maps, to work out our route to Magnolia's Bookstore in, ovvies*, Magnolia. Happily, Scott was pretty good at understanding the best route and we made it there with minimal trouble, though there was more uphill than expected.

I loved this little bookshop and had a hard time restraining myself there; that they also had a number of Mountaineers' titles on display was also nice. I allowed myself to be sold on a couple of utterly-unknown-to-me titles; I'm hoping I'll like them! There was also a bakery next door which, alas, we were far too full to even consider. Next time.

Once more Scott had a clear idea of the best route and we rode across (mercifully flat south-north) Magnolia towards Ballard. I was very excited when I heard a train as we approached the pedestrian overpass between Magnolia and Ballard. Oh! The thrill of having two long freight trains race through (especially since that overpass meant that we didn't really have to wait for them).

Although we were still stuffed from breakfast, I am incapable of not stopping at Besalu if I'm in Ballard when it's open so we detoured slightly so I could pick up some ginger biscuits to go. (Mmmmm . . . ginger biscuits.)

We swung around the block to Secret Garden Books where, against all expectation, they came up with a copy of The Disappearing Spoon (in, sadly, a different cover) for me. I'd jotted the title down months ago; fingers crossed it lives up to my expectations. A customer raved about Wolf Hollow when I reached across her to pick it up, so I opted to buy it as well.

It was after Secret Garden that I voted for multi-moding once more since, well, we could. A 44 was coming along momentarily so we avoided the climb out of Ballard by putting the bikes on the bus and riding in luxurious comfort to Open Books, the poetry bookshop. I admit I was little uncertain about finding something here because I don't so much read poetry. I was surprised, therefore, when I found myself with three books and a button in my hands. One sort of felt that the three people behind the register were a bit bemused as well. I'd love to know about their inventory/accounting system: one woman laboriously wrote out the full titles (and more?) in a spiralbound notebook before the purchases were entered into the iPad register.

(It was also at Open Books that I first really noticed people going into a store to get their stamp and leaving immediately. Which is, I suppose, one way of getting to 19 stores spread across 130 miles**, in the allotted time but it does seem sort of self-absorbed and, well, just rude.)

From Open Books (truly some of the friendliest sales people of the day) we headed back west, riding some roads parallel to 45th to backtrack to Fremont and Book Larder. Book Larder, was packed. They had a day full of demonstrations scheduled which, I suppose, helps guarantee a lot of visitors. While we were locking up the bikes, a passport-bearing woman recommended the cheese puffs and it *had* been some hours by then, so I grabbed one off the demo counter and popped it in my mouth. It was, indeed, pretty good. Book Larder was another store that was a little challenging: I don't really buy all that many cookbooks. Before I ended up buying a towel, however, I saw a book with the note "Proceeds will be donated to the ACLU" and a second one that seemed suited to the Day (The Culinary Cyclist); both were small and lightweight (which was becoming a consideration) so I snapped them up just like they were cheese puffs.

Then we headed north to Phinney Books which is not so big a store and they were also drawing a crowd. I ended up shifting the snack table a foot or so over so I could get at my favorite shelf in that particular store, the section where they put all the New York Review Books classics. The volume I actually bought was from the "Recommended" shelf--but it was still NYRB. While I was wedged into that corner, they replenished the snack table with huge wedges of three lovely cheeses. Alas; we had places to go.

There is no photo for Phinney Books because it was at that point that I realized it was 4:40, and I was hoping to catch Jonathan Evison at University Bookstore at 5:00. We rode as fast and as hard as we could, routefinding on the fly, but it was still after 5:00 by the time we were locking up outside of UBS. And, as it happened, his event had been at 3:00 so he was long gone, as I learned when I asked a woman at the store. "Oh yeah, he was here with a crowd in the cafe drinking beer," she said. I don't know if it was envy in her voice. So that was disappointing, especially as I'd planned Lawn Boy for my UBS purchase. I instead picked up a couple of books from the sale tables and a NYRB that I'd resisted at Phinney Books. Because UBS' signage is so dull--and it was a bit wet--we opted to skip the photo op there.

Due to the wet it felt dark and dreary despite being not yet 6:00 p.m. Nonetheless, we persisted, riding north to the Third Place in Ravenna. This was the very ride we did not manage last year so I was particularly pleased that neither of us hesitated this time around. And it wasn't so bad a ride; a lot of the route has a dedicated bike lane, and  traffic was pretty light on the Ave. At Third Place we locked up the bikes, went around the corner to discover some more sheltered bike racks near the door, and unlocked and shifted the bikes (for a much nicer backdrop for the semi-required snap).

The Ravenna Third Place is pretty much new for me; I think I ducked in once to drop off some galleys for Craig Romano who was doing a reading there. It's an interesting place with a decent selection--another shop I wouldn't mind spending more time browsing. I broke down and bought the Proust Letters to his Neighbor there, despite it appearing to be a fair amount of padding. I may be a Proust (in translation) completionist. It was while waiting in line at Third Place that I overheard the man in front of me say, gesturing at a display of new books, "I heard he drank a six-pack at his signing; he's going to be on Mercer Island this week." As it happens, Lawn Boy was on that table and Mr Evison has a reading at Island Books on Thursday. Coincidence?

From Third Place we (oh, so sadly) cruised by Bagel Oasis and Sod House Bakery without stopping (in truth, I didn't even see them but I know they were there), and then enjoyed a long easy coast (aside from traffic worries) down 25th to an intersection with the Burke-Gilman which we took to the University light rail station. It was lovely to be on the Burke, where the cross traffic was robins rather than distracted drivers; it's lucky that we didn't reach it until late in the day or we'd have been too spoiled for the reality of bookshop-hopping by bike. (Speaking of which, Scott's pannier maxed out at Third Place and I had to start worrying about keeping books dry in Bessie's basket.)

It was on the light rail that I remembered I'd packed jelly beans and chocolate eggs so we were somewhat reenergized by the time we reached Capitol Hill. The climb to Ada's Technical Books was still a little more challenging than I'd expected so I think, yes, we were getting a bit tired by then. I sort of love Ada's, though their selection is pretty limited (and they carry no Mountaineers' titles); it's all the lab glass. They did have Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, which I've been meaning to read, and I may have picked up an older Margaret Atwood there too.

 How fine it was to have an easy downhill cruise to Elliott Bay Book Company, our last shop (because by then Fantagraphics was closed and Scott likely would have killed me had I suggested it anyway). Elliott Bay has a big glittery "FINISH" sign and tequila shots for finishers. I appreciate celebrating those who manage to hit bookshops on the peninsula and on the eastside as well as in Seattle (and north to Edmonds), but it also felt like there was a big party going on to which those who had only been to nine shops hadn't been invited. And, based on some of the "getting all 19" people I'd seen throughout the day, those people were doing sodfuckingall to actually support the stores. They were scurrying in, getting a stamp, and running out again, not buying anything and not even pausing long enough to determine if the store was someplace they'd want to return to later. Despite this slightly sour taste, I found a book or two to buy, and--because our cycling was done for the day--I bought a poster. (I really wanted one last year and was glad to see they were selling them this year.) I took the opportunity to consolidate the four (!) EBBC loyalty cards I had so while I'm all about supporting the plucky independents, I wasn't sad when my debit card charge at the final shop was just $6--and I was left with one full stamp card and was starting on a new one.

 A quick but careful (I had that poster in a handle-bag dangling from my handlebars after all) ride to the Capitol Hill train station, a transfer to a bus downtown, a pushing of the bikes up the hill, and our adventure was done. There were cocktails, yes.

*A highlight of the day was overhearing a woman walking on Capitol Hill say to her friend, "Ovvies!" as in "how obvious that your new leather jacket is super cute." Kids these days. Whatever happened to "Obvs," asks Scott.

**The "130 miles" figure comes from a conversation with a woman in line at Elliott Bay Book Company who said that she had considered attempting the day by bike, but in planning her route she had realized it would be 130 miles.