Wingshooters

Sometimes when I finish a book, all I can do is sit and let the story settle into me. This happened last night after finishing Wingshooters by Nina Revoyr. Wingshooters is set in Wisconsin in the 1970s. It’s an adult novel, but told through the eyes of a child, Michelle (“Mike”). In the narration, Mike is grown and recalling her childhood. Mike was born in Japan to a Japanese mother and white father, much to her paternal grandparents disappointment. When Mike is 8 years old, her family moves to the United States and disintegrates. Mike is left in the care of her paternal grandparents while her parents roam separately. Despite his racist nature, Mike’s grandfather, Charlie, and Mike grow very close. When a black couple moves to their all-white (with the exception of Mike) community, Charlie and his friends work to dissuade them from remaining in the community, blind to the parallels between the black couple and Mike. For those of you who crave authentic voice when you read, you’re going to love this book (think Mudbound or The Help for excellent voice books). Additionally, the author does not back down from a theme that is avoided by most writers: just because a person physically survives does not mean s/he ever heals. This is one of those books that is so complete – the story itself, the plot, is great and the pacing of it is perfect. Plus, the writing is fantastic – it contains sentences that I re-read just for the pleasure of good writing. (One of my favorites compares stepping into a woods where the autumn leaves have just fallen to a woman stepping out of a colorful dress). Best of all, the author knew how to end this book. How many times have we read a book and enjoyed the first 9/10 of it and then cringed as the author fumbled through the ending? This is not one of those. I have other books I need to read, but for the moment, I’m letting this one simmer in my soul.

Come on in and loiter

Recently, a customer came into Beagle and said, “I’m just going to browse today, is that okay?” We told her, “Sure.” Then she said, “Is it okay if I loiter?”
“Yeeeeeeeeeeees, that’s why we have chairs,” I told her.
Apparently, she had recently been in another bookstore, a chain store, and was appalled by the signage that no loitering was allowed and that customers were limited to 10 minutes per aisle.
To be honest, my first reaction is to chuckle or smirk. 10 minutes per aisle? Is someone with a stopwatch employed to enforce such a rule? My second reaction is one of sadness. Bookstores, no matter if indie or chain, should be (in my opinion) welcoming, inviting places. In particular, I want bookstores to be welcoming to children. That doesn’t mean they can run amok and not be respectful of inventory, but at Beagle, I’ve honestly had very little problems with this. Between kids playing at our kids table and petting the dog, there isn’t really time to be naughty.
I understand that you may not buy something every time you set foot in Beagle. But when you do need a book (or eggs or a calendar, etc), it is my hope you will buy it from Beagle (or Sister Wolf). In the meantime, browse, chat with the bookseller, pet the dog, and for heaven’s sake, loiter.