Rainy Day
If I ever opened this dream of a bookstore that lives in my imagination — which I never will, by the way — I would call it “Cheers Without Beers.” And all of you would be Norm (or Linda, or Tanya, or Seth, or Mike, or whatever your name actually is), and you would walk in, and everybody would shout out “Norm!” and then instead of pouring you a beer they would say, “Oh my gosh, we just pulled out Colson Whitehead’s Nickel Boys for you because it will blow your mind.”
*Actually they would say, “Whatcha up to Norm” And you would say, “My ideal weight if I was eleven feet tall.”**
**This would only work if you were actually Norm-sized. If not, please think of a different comeback.
The point is, my dream-scenario bookstore is personal. Everybody WOULD know your name. That’s my first requirement for the ideal bookstore, that you would have a personal connection with the people in it, that they would know your general tastes, they would be invested in your reading habits, they would come across a book that they just KNOW you would love and pull it off the shelf and keep it behind the desk for the next time you came in.
Actually I have several ideal bookstore requirements.
— It has to be organized … but not TOO organized. Obviously you don’t want different kinds of books scattered all over the place because you’d never find anything. But a great bookstore offers the thrill of discovery. You want a section or two where the books don’t seem to have anything to do with each other. When you wander through those gumbo book sections and come across one that looks fascinating (whoa, where did that come from?) it’s like combing through a box of baseball cards and finding Willie Mays. It’s the greatest feeling.
— It must have an active and energetic recommendation section. I am entirely obsessed with those “recommended by Holly” cards you see in bookstores; I read every one of them. Some of them, admittedly, are pretty lame:
Mike Recommends “The Great Gatsby.”
“It’s a cool book. You could read it on the beach. Or in the city. Works both places.”
But many of the cards are amazing. The other day I was in a bookstore and someone named Holly — that’s why I chose the name — wrote a recommendation for a book called “The Bookshop of Yesterdays” that was so long, she literally taped two cards to the first to finish her thoughts. Of course, I bought the book. I’ll let you know.
— The sports section doesn’t need to be in the front, but it needs to be SOMEWHERE.
Have you tried to find the sports section in a Barnes & Noble? It’s like the Bat Cave. You have to find the right book to pull out, and that opens a secret wall, and then you have to know the capital of Assyria, and then you must cross a rickety bridge over lava, and then you have to be a penitent man before God and then — only then — will you find yourself in the Humor section looking at “150 Jokes You Can Tell On The Toilet,” and no, you will never find sports. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Barnes & Noble. I do. But can we get a little help here?
— There should be one or two or five book lovers roaming around the store who instantly know, without even asking, if you are in the glorious “I just want to meander around these books for a while” mood or the baffled “I don’t quite know what I want and I need help” mood. If in the meander mood, they leave you be or just say, “Hey, the new Ann Patchett is in,” and if you are in the baffled mood they know exactly how to guide you to the book you always wanted.
Some will say, “Such people do not exist.” But they do.
In fact, they exist at Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas.
Rainy Day Books is my home bookstore. Kansas City is no longer our home, but once you find a bookstore like Rainy Day, the wind never blows so cold again. I’m not going to tell you it’s the best bookstore in America because I don’t believe such a thing exists. I believe great bookstores, like great burger shops, are local wonders.
So, if I lived in Washington, I would undoubtedly feel that love for Kramerbooks or Politics and Prose, and if I was in Tulsa it would be Magic City Books. If I lived in Oxford, Miss., I’d undoubtedly love Square Books, and if it was Denver it would be Tattered Cover, and in Portland it would be Powell’s, and in Iowa City it would be Prairie Lights and in Cleveland it would be Loganberry, and and there are countless amazing bookstores in LA and San Francisco and Chicago and Boston and New York and Dallas and Atlanta and …
I have thought, at times, of visiting the 100 best bookstores in the country.
I often have impossible thoughts like that.
But my heart is in Kansas City and my bookstore is Rainy Day Books. I am reminiscing now of pulling into that little parking lot and wandering in and hearing everyone say, “Hi Joe! Oh, wait, we saw the perfect book for you!” One of the great experiences of my entire life was when I walked in and Vivien Jennings, the owner, said, “Oh my gosh, you HAVE to read this book.” And she gave me “The Shadow of the Wind” by Carlos Ruiz Zafón, and it detonated every feeling in my body it was so beautiful.
And then, like two weeks later, Carlos Ruiz Zafón was there at the bookstore, and I talked to him for an hour or more, and THAT is the sort of dream bookstore I’m talking about.
As it turns out, we are putting together the book tour for The Life and Afterlife of Harry Houdini, and it is looking amazing. I might not get to the 50 best bookstores in the country (we need this book to REALLY SELL if we’re going to pull off something crazy like that) but I am going to get to quite a few of them. It will be incredible. And we have some amazing guests lined up.
I want so much to tell you but, alas, we’re still finalizing details. Soon! I promise!
But I CAN tell you that I will be at Rainy Day Books on Oct. 24. The actual book event will be at the gorgeous Unity Temple on the Plaza but I can promise you that beforehand, I will go to Rainy Day. And I’ll just wander around. I’m expecting recommendations.