Joke of the Day (Mark Simmons, on a Customer-Clerk Interaction in a Bookstore)

“I went to [British book retailer] Waterstones and asked the woman for a book about turtles. She said ‘hardback?’ And I was like ‘yeah and little heads.’”—British stand-up comedian Mark Simmons, tweet of Nov. 9, 2016

Photo of the Day: Peggy Noonan at Books and Greetings, Northvale, NJ

Thursday night, I drove to see conservative columnist Peggy Noonan, who has been on a tour promoting her collection of speeches and articles over the last 30 years, The Time of Our Lives. 

At Books and Greetings, a bookstore in Northern New Jersey, however, her appearance had something like the feeling of a welcome-home party: through much of her youth, she had grown up in Rutherford; she graduated from Fairleigh Dickinson University in the early 1970s; and at least several well-wishers from those days (including a brother) were in the audience.

I arrived about 15 minutes late for the start of her talk before the book-signing. All the seats were taken up front, and, among people waiting for her to sign their books, I was #56. I stood halfway in the back of the store, craning my neck and listening hard as she spoke.

I do not agree with all of Noonan’s positions; indeed, unlike many in the audience, I don’t think I agree with even half of them. But I found her account of working in the Reagan Administration, What I Saw at the Revolution, a political memoir of uncommon wit and verve, and her “Declarations” column is the first thing I turn to in each Saturday edition of The Wall Street Journal.

Unlike much of the conservative wing of the Republican Party, her criticism of Barack Obama is informed by sincere, thoughtful disagreement over his philosophy of government rather than by conspiratorial nonsense about what he is not, and her best work reflects her firsthand knowledge of the ideals and compromises made by those in government.

In the image accompanying this post, she is signing my copy of The Time of Our Lives and another book, On Speaking Well: How to Give a Speech With Style, Substance, and Clarity. 

(As someone whose work over the years has occasionally required writing speeches, I was intrigued by the latter—and, indeed, it looks as if my curiosity has paid off; after I got home, I marveled at her astute, line-by-line reading of Earl Charles Spencer’s eulogy for his sister, Princess Diana, and why Ms. Noonan felt, eight years into the decade, that it might be “so far the only great speech of the 1990s.”)

Before signing books for the eager throng assembled, Ms. Noonan answered a variety of questions from the audience, including:

*What was it like to work for Ronald Reagan? (She felt “lucky” to have her speeches delivered by a man who had used his voice professionally, in acting and in politics, for 40 years, and that she had never felt that “a good man can also be a great man” until she worked for him.)

*Who were her literary influences? (Like mine, American novelists of the Twenties and Forties—notably Hemingway—and, a rediscovery of hers in recent years, the poet Robert Frost.)

*What did she think of Donald Trump? (She, like so many others, did not think he would enter the race, but did not dismiss his chances after his announcement because he had “hit a nerve on illegal immigration” with GOP primary voters. Still, she noted, his candidacy was not without dangers: “People ask me, ‘Can he win the nomination?’ Yes, he can. Or they’ll ask, ‘Can he split the party?’ Yes, he can.”)

Many progressive readers (including a number of those who read this blog) may wonder why I admire a writer with whom I often disagree with so profoundly. It’s simple, really: Ms. Noonan writes like an angel, and, in my view, that forgives a lot.

Not that, when you get down to it, she has anything to be forgiven for. In a time of angry polarization, Ms. Noonan writes with civility, a spirit that should be returned in kind. As Thomas Jefferson noted in his first Inaugural Address: “Every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle.”

Quote of the Day (Ann Patchett, on Writing as a Discipline)

“If you want to write and can't figure out how to do it, try this: Pick an amount of time to sit at your desk every day. Start with 20 minutes, say, and work up as quickly as possible to as much time as you can spare. Do you really want to write? Sit for two hours a day. During that time, you don't have to write, but you must stay at your desk without distraction: no phone, no Internet, no books. Sit. Still. Quietly. Do this for a week, for two weeks. Do not nap or check your e-mail. Keep on sitting for as long as you remain interested in writing. Sooner or later you will write because you will no longer be able to stand not writing—or you'll get up and turn the television on because you will no longer be able to stand all the sitting. Either way, you'll have your answer.”—Ann Patchett, The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life (2011)

In addition to being an author, Ms. Patchett is also an independent bookseller—as worthy a cause as you’ll find these days. Here is the Website for her store, Parnassus Books, for anyone who doesn’t want the world to be run by Amazon or the last remaining book superstores.

Quote of the Day (Leon Wieseltier, on Disappearing Book- and Record Stores)

“The commerce of culture is a trade in ideals of beauty, goodness, and truth. A hunger for profit exploits a hunger for meaning. If the one gets too ravenous, the other may find it harder to subsist. The disappearance of our bookstores and our record stores constitutes one of the great self-inflicted wounds of this wounding time.”— Leon Wieseltier, “Washington Diarist: Going to Melody,” The New Republic, February 2, 2012

Quote of the Day (Jay Nordlinger, on Borders' Final Chapter)

“I think this new age for media is a bonanza, a multifaceted gift to mankind. But you’ll understand, I bet, if I offer one cheer for bricks and mortar, and quirky staffs, and popping in and out. You’ll understand, too, if I shed a tear—half a tear, for the dear, old Borders Book Shop.”—Jay Nordlinger, “An End to Borders,” National Review, August 15, 2011

A few months ago, when I wrote about the closure of a couple of Borders stores near me, it felt as if the inevitable were only being momentarily delayed. Now the end is truly here for Borders Books and Music.

I took the photograph accompanying this post outside the Bordes store in Ramsey, N.J. There, as well as in the large location in New York’s Columbus Circle, the lines were long—and sometimes staffers’ tempers (no doubt not helped by the lack of air conditioning at the height of this summer’s height wave in the latter) were short.

Nordlinger’s article captures the ambivalence many of us feel about the larger phenomenon of disappearing books-and-media megastore over the last several years. I’m sure that a number of small independents think the megastores are finally getting a taste of their own medicine for putting smaller mom-and-pops and regional chains out of business. But while they lasted, the big stores were a browser’s delight. The Internet simply can’t replace the sheer physical pleasure of going through one of these.

Quote of the Day (Christopher Caldwell, on the Decline of Borders)

“Borders became one of the hottest corporate chains of the 1990s because it didn’t do things by halves. Its bookstores were of an unheard-of size and sophistication. They stretched not just from coast to coast but around the world. Since it filed for U.S. bankruptcy protection in mid-February, it has shown the same thoroughness in dismantling its empire that it did in building it. The Borders bookstore down the block from my Washington office, where I have browsed almost weekly for the past decade and a half, looks gutted, sacked. At least 200 of Borders’ 642 stores are to close. Those that remain will continue the chain’s drift away from books, and towards cat calendars and stationery.”—Christopher Caldwell, “A Fate Written in the Stores,” Financial Times, March 5, 2011

I took the accompanying photo of the Borders Books and Music store in Fort Lee, N.J., only a few miles from where I live. Once, this Borders possessed every bit—and more—of the vitality that Caldwell mentioned in his piece—not just brimming with all sorts of books, CDs and DVDs, but also hosting author appearances and all kinds of groups (including a writers’ group to which I belonged).

But the last few years, as digitization cut into the market for CDs and DVDs, the shelves devoted to these became depopulated and the store had far more space than it could afford. The coup de grace came with the onset of the e-book, for which the chain was not prepared.

In the weeks since the closing announcement, the Fort Lee location—at least on the weekends—has been filled with people hoping for great bargains—lines I hadn’t even seen the past Christmas or two.

Undoubtedly, many former independent bookstore owners are shedding no tears over the fate of Borders. That megastore, along with archrival Barnes & Noble, knocked off numerous smaller stores that couldn’t compete, in much the same way that former behemoth Blockbuster (until last year, in the same shopping center as the Fort Lee Borders) had crushed mom-and-pop video outlets.

But I felt a sense of sadness at the closure. Borders provided a place to come to--not just a vast bookselling emporium, but also a spot to meet others--authors, fellow bibliophiles, friends. (Even up to the last weeks before the closing announcement, you couldn’t get a seat in the Borders coffeeshop. Too bad more of those kids weren’t using the space to read books and magazines instead of making it a de facto homework hangout.) I’m not sure that the loss of such a space compensates for the greater convenience afforded by digitization.

In this case, digitization might only lead to the further atomization of a society that doesn’t need to be broken down any more than it has already into small, solitary units.

Quote of the Day (George Carlin, on Self-Help Books)

"I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, ‘Where's the self-help section?’ She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose."—Comedian George Carlin (1937-2008)