Gold Stars from Tastemakers

You are not in a judgment-free zone

If I worked at a bookstore, I think I would often feel compelled to chat with people about the books they were buying. (I’m also very interested in what’s in people’s grocery baskets and what it says about their life. I think I would be an analytical, if silent, grocery store cashier, but maybe it all gets boring if you’re ringing up groceries eight hours a day.)

I don’t know about other cities, but in New York booksellers are a tough bunch to rouse at the register. The highbrow and arty bookstores have some of that record-store vibe, though I don’t think anything could rival the air of indifference and un-impressability of record store people. It depends on the bookstore, of course, and this is not to say they wouldn’t be helpful or friendly if you asked them for a recommendation. What’s rare is an encounter where you clearly rise in their esteem above the average bestseller-purchaser.

That’s why I felt a disproportionate thrill when on a recent bookstore crawl one hot weekend this summer, not one but three different New York City booksellers commended me on my purchase. I’m presenting them here, not as a nerd humblebrag (though maybe that impression is inevitable), but because it’s the kind of thing I would be so curious to hear about if someone else mentioned it – what were the books? What were the bookstores? (What did they say? Nothing particularly interesting, the thrill was in being acknowledged at all…)

I bought only three books after much browsing:

1. McNally Jackson on Prince Street in Soho

I love this store because it organizes fiction by regions of the world and has sections dedicated to each. They also have great selections in poetry (including small press poets), essays/memoir. And a gorgeous stationery selection, and so many periodicals…

The book: The Years by Annie Ernaux (2008). Ernaux was on my radar because of her subjects (women, sex, mothers), her approach to her subjects (personal, fearless), and length of her books (short), though I wasn’t sure where to start. Then she won the Nobel Prize in 2022 and Rachel Cusk wrote a fantastic essay about her a few months back, which bumped her up my list. This book is atypical in that it’s written in the third person plural and is a memoir of her generation and all of France, in a way.

The bookseller: “Oh, Annie Ernaux. I just finished A Girl’s Story, it was so good…” Late 20s, woman, curly hair.

2.  Codex on Bleecker and Bowery

This store opened in 2019, has a mostly used selection, sections on history, politics, art, gender studies, literay fiction, theatre. It makes great use of a small space squeezed between a great coffeeshop (Think Coffee) and an excellent bar (Von).

The book: Deeper into Movies by Pauline Kael (1973). A collection of her New Yorker film reviews. I’ve spent my whole life reading movie reviews and was always bothered that there weren’t women around the critics (Dana Stevens at Slate was the exception). I didn’t learn about Pauline Kael until recent years and was sort of amazed at her stature at the time, as my experience of film and everything around it so often feels like a men’s club. '

The bookseller: “That’s an excellent choice, by the way, really good book.” Tall, thin man, early 30s, glasses, black t-shirt. Looked like a reader of philosophy.

3. Spoonbill and Sugartown on Bedford Ave. in Williamsburg

This is my favorite bookstore, mostly because of the display table near the entrance, which always has a selection of new and recent books of interest, some of which I’ve heard of, but mostly not. On art, culture, media, fiction, cities, etc. It always recharges my energy and interest in the world. I want to buy them all but usually make myself choose one. Spoonbill is also one of those markers from my particular time in New York (circa 2002-2015). If it should close, some part of my memory would go with it. Spoonbill opened in 1999 by people connected to the art world, and it always had an incredible selection of books on art and theory. Its booksellers were the most impossible to rouse. I know because I have bought so many books there, and every time they rung me up with complete indifference. I always think of it as being next door to Verb Café, which was a 90s-style, punk sort of place, but it has been a bath-and-body store that specializes in soap in shaped like cupcakes for at least 10 years now, which tells you which way the neighborhood went. A bit on the nose, really, but Spoonbill persists.

The book: Faux Pas by Amy Sillman. This is a book of essays by a painter. I wasn’t familiar with Sillman’s work, but I was drawn to the book because it includes funny/strange drawings that incorporate text and the essays I landed on had intriguing passages on the nature of color and the physical experience of drawing, how it feels and what it does to the brain. In other words, it was art writing, but didn’t seem too caught up in obscurantist theory or in gatekeeping thinking about art. It was also clearly produced by a small press, so it seemed like something I might not run across again.

The bookseller: “I love this book. She’s very funny.” Late 50s/early 60s, woman, hair in pony tail, vibes of not taking shit from anyone.

Cupcake soaps where the grotty punk cafe used to be.

Bad pics I took of the tantalizing center table at Spoonbill.

So that’s the dispatch from the literary bookstore front. There are many other great ones in NYC, of course. It’s been heartening to see bookstores thriving post pandemic, including new ones (192 Books in Chelsea comes to mind).

What’s your favorite bookstore and have you impressed the booksellers there?

My 2023 reading round-up will be coming in January. (Check out the archive for the 2021 and 2022 round-ups.) In the meantime, wishing everyone lots cozy, escapist reading time in these colder and darker days.