Meandering drives sometimes find nice surprises.

I went here today:

(via)

(via)

I had started off at church over in West Central Austin, and had some things on my mind, so I decided to detour on the way home to a coffee shop. I had intended to go to Jo's on S. Congress, but there was a long line and parking was terrible, so when I turned off of SoCo, I kept going on the roads I was on, then found myself at the corner of Elizabeth and S. First at Bouldin Creek Coffeehouse.

There was a line there, too, but there was also parking, so I figured I'd give it a shot. I stood in the crowd a while, then a woman (who is apparently the owner) came around to take drink orders. I ordered the "Thai Take-Off" and was able to cut out of line early.

Admittedly, I didn't even look at a menu. I wasn't hungry, so I wasn't terribly concerned about it. But judging by the conversation around me, Bouldin Creek a favorite among many. In fact, according to a public letter on the wall of the shop, the coffeeshop is soon moving; they've simply outgrown their current location. I'm not surprised, having witnessed the fullness of the store and seating areas -- both inside and out -- and the constant activity of both the cashiers and the food runners.

I sat outside, in a covered awning area with a mishmash of chairs and tables. Bike wheels hung from the roof in haphazard display - just one of the many eclectic details that make Bouldin Creek so fun and unique. The crowd was no different than the decor; from the girl wearing an animal ear hat to the fairly conservative-looking middle-aged couple to well, me, who fits somewhere in the middle, it seems that Bouldin Creek is a place for everyone.

I wasn't there long; I took enough time to savor my drink (2 shots of espresso with condensed milk over ice) and write a little, then I gave up my table for others who might still be waiting.

However, now that I've had time to see the menu online, I hope to soon return and sample the fare. Yum.

Austin Public Library

Today, I got a library card.

It's one of my favorite things to do in a new town. Besides the fact that it opens up a world of books I can read without buying, it always makes me feel somewhat invested in a community. When I have a library card, I'm a part of something. I belong here.

For someone that's moved around a lot in her life, that's a big deal.

So to the library I went:

I actually caught this picture as I was leaving, from inside my car (hence the blur/reflection...it may be Halloween, but that's no ghost). I don't have power windows, and it was weird enough that I was stopping to take a picture. I didn't feel like putting my car in park and leaning over to unroll the window. That might have crossed the weirdness line a little too far.

Anywho, back to what matters:

So. Many. Books. So. Much. Happy.

Since I'm back on The List (I'll finish Real Sex eventually...I couldn't find it for a while this morning so I moved on), I went straight to the W's. I started reading A Handful of Dust several months ago, then left it on a plane to Atlanta, never to be recovered. I'd really like to get back into it soon.

Alas. Several books by Evelyn Waugh, but not the one I want, so I requested it through interlibrary loan. There are only two copies in the whole Austin Public Library system, and nobody else was looking for it. Neither the librarian nor I were particularly surprised. Also, Evelyn is a man. Yeah, I know. Some people's parents are SO WEIRD.

It's going to take a few days to travel across the city, so I picked up a couple of other books to read in the meantime: Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. You know, just a little light bedtime reading.

The librarian commented that I was picking up all the classics. She asked if I was in school. I said no, I'm reading these because I never read them in school. The other woman in line snorted, and the librarian congratulated me on my dedication.

Um, yeah, we'll see about that. No telling how long this is going to take me.

From me, to you, with scorn.

Dear Patrick Rothfuss,

First, can I call you P.Roth? Good. We'll go with that. I've been reading your book lately, and just thought I'd drop you a line. It's a good book, really. You have quite the imagination, and I'm rather impressed by the complexity of your little story. Tolkien would be proud.

You don't intimidate me, P. Roth. 
Not even with your abundance of beard.
Or your Joss Whedon t-shirt.
I've seen Firefly. I know what's up.
(via)

However, I would like to discuss one thing with you. The story is gripping, truly, and the details are phenomenal, but they take up a lot of space. I knew the length of the tome before I started, both by a quick last-page assessment and by the amount of space it took up in my bag. I was not intimidated. Pulled into the story of our hero Kvothe, I read every chance I got: on my lunch break at work, in the evenings at home, in the mornings waiting for a coworker to come unlock the door, and even at the Mediterranean restaurant waiting for my falafel-to-go. But I got a little concerned when I reached the 450th page or so and our hero Kvothe was still just a young'n causing trouble at the University and chasing around his flighty-by-necessity pal Denna. And then when he was nearly expelled, I thought, "AHA! Some resolution is to be found."

Alas, no. 662 pages, and no resolution. None whatsoever. P.Roth, you're a bit of a sadist, leaving me hanging like that. Apparently you've written a trilogy, and the next installment comes out in March. What am I supposed to do until then? It's not like I can read anything else now. With every book's end I'll think, "Well, that was nice, but what the hell happens next to Kvothe?"

Tolkien didn't do this to me. He gave me all three Lord of the Rings volumes in one nice, neat little package. No mystery, no wondering for months about what happened to Frodo and Gandalf and all the poor little Shirefolk. Sure, he was long dead and buried when I first read his books, but maybe that's something you should consider.

Sincerely,

Carolyn
The Austin Bookworm


P.S. I don't really wish your death. You should not actually consider that. But please don't be offended if I announce, at any point, sober or otherwise, that I refuse to read any more of your books until I have a nice little commemorative box set sitting on my shelves. I won't actually hold out anyway. I'm weak and my curiosity always wins.

P.S.2 I actually sensed my impending doom disappointment when Kvothe made that witty little comment to Denna about his own story and how it was just leaving room for a sequel or some crap like that. You're clever, P.Roth. Very clever. But not so sneaky. I knew what was going to happen, but I had faith in you. I thought maybe -- just maybe -- you'd rise above base literary tricks intended to pique interest and guarantee an audience waiting for your next book with a hungry look in their eyes and their wallets open. I was wrong.

P.S.3 I have nothing else to add, but I thought it'd be funny to use "PS3" as an addendum. It would be even funnier if I regularly played video games or even owned a TV. In this case, it's simply ironic. But I don't have to tell you about that, you jerk. See P.S.2 for clarification, and please forgive my colloquial and not remotely accurate use of the term irony.

You may have heard of me.

Yesterday, I started a new job. I went from working nights at a bar to working a regular 8-5 schedule in a professional office, and I love it.

With the beautiful weather we've had the last few days, I've spent my lunch breaks out there both days, sitting in the sun and reading. I'm bringing my lunch, to save money, and I'm amazed at how much time it saves as well (besides, I've been spending that "saved" cash on Panera in the mornings). After eating, I still have nearly an hour to read....and I'm finding myself returning to not just a love of books or of knowledge, but a love of reading.

It might be surprising to you that I don't love reading. Not anymore, at least. I used to, but that love got lost somewhere around high school, and remained dormant through college. I still enjoyed stories (I've ALWAYS enjoyed a good story), but reading seemed like such an arduous task that it was no longer fun.

My love affair with books, rocky as it may be, began early. Family legend holds that I started reading at the age of four. Apparently I was in church with my mom, picked up the Bible, and pointed out the words I know. She still believes that I was jealous of my brother, who, nearly two years older, was being properly instructed in reading at the time. I'm not sure that sibling rivalry is an accurate justification of my childhood brilliance, but I'll let it go for now. In any case, she took on the challenge of a second budding reader, and, an avid reader herself, encouraged it.

I don't remember much about that time (hello, I was four). I remember being a little older and reading short storybooks, yelling to my mom through the walls of my makeshift bedroom to ask what words were. At the time, my parents were apart, and my mom, brother, and I lived in a little two-bedroom house. My brother and I didn't get along, so my grandparents helped to construct a temporary bedroom in the common area of the house. It was right next to the kitchen, and the "walls" were full of holes (originally part of the displays they used to sell their woodcrafts), so there was plenty of opportunity for knowledge to flow in.

It wasn't long before I began consuming books at an alarming rate. One Christmas break I read 9 books in a week. Yes, they were youth-level novels, but NINE. In seven days.

In 5th grade, I started volunteering at the library as part of the requirements for a Girl Scout badge; I simply didn't tell them when I'd completed my time (or when I'd dropped out of Scouts), and I kept going back for a full year. Most of what I did was straighten books, occasionally pulling out the ones I wanted to check out.

Looking back, I realize that those librarians - Marsha, Donna, and Amy - watched me grow up. And when I heard they needed a page in high school, I showed up to fill out an application, and was hired right away.

Ironically, that's when I stopped reading.

I think it had something to do with school; there was a lot I was required to read, and it started to tear at my joy for the written word. By the time I got to college, I wasn't even reading my texts (I was a philosophy major...the main thing you learn to do is B.S., and I was damn good at it). I could hardly justify picking up a novel when I was neglecting my education.

Yet I continued to collect books. And every once in a while I'd start something, only to set it aside unfinished.

And then one day after college, one of the residents at the apartment community I was working for walked into my office with four novels and a bottle of vodka. He was moving out of his apartment, and didn't want to take any of it with him. So he handed the pile to me.

Both excellent gifts, I must note.

The books were the first three and the fifth novel in the Women's Murder Club series by James Patterson. Never big on mystery novels, I figured I'd given them a shot.

Oh.My.Gosh.

I blew threw the first three, bought the fourth, read the fifth, and then checked at least one more out from the library.

And there it was...I was back in the game.

That was more than two years ago now, and at times I still fight reading apathy. I like having this blog, because it's forcing me to sit down not with the TV (not that I own one anyway), and not with Facebook (oy...), but with a book.

Right now, that book is still The Name of the Wind. It's 662 pages, so I might be there a while. At least until Saturday (I'm on 127 right now). I hate to give impressions of novels before I'm finished with them, but already I can say I'm entranced by this story of Kvothe. Between my lunch break and the time I've spent curled up in a chair this evening, I read a large chunk of those pages today alone (the picture above is from yesterday at lunch, when I was on page 27). The book is already showing wear, but that's partly due to my bad habit of throwing books into my already-full purse (hello, this is why I have a big bag...). By the end of this reading, my brand-new book isn't going to look so new.

Oh, and I'm still in the middle of Real Sex. I should probably finish reading that too.

And when I'm done with both, I'll start that project thing I was talking about. I promise.

Galveston Island and Non-List Books

On a bit of a whim, I took a two-day trip to Galveston Island this week to visit some friends.

Thus, I haven't gotten much reading done lately. I'm still working through Real Sex, and I also started reading The Name of The Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss. I don't normally read two books at once, and I had planned to start in on The List next, but it was all I had with me on Friday when my breakfast friend-date was canceled at the last minute. Books really do make lovely companions.

In any case, I've been working almost non-stop since I returned, and I'm only on the third day of my 8-day stretch. I hope to read, and to have something interesting worth posting this week!

A Book I Will Never Buy: Here's the Situation

Apparently, Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino, whose abs and ego star on the hit series Jersey Shore, has written a book (or, as one website corrected itself, "written" a book):

(via bestweekever.tv)

I have no shame; I'm judging this book by its cover. You should too.

(via)




Disclaimer: My then-roommates and I happened upon the very first episode of Jersey Shore, and watched it. We laughed, mocked, and mimicked, and we were over it in about two weeks' time. After all, you may be curious to see a train wreck, but you're not going to want to see one every week.

Coffee with a mission and a little book about sex.

Yesterday afternoon I stepped into a coffee shop in the heart of liberal Austin with a book about sex. It was carefully tucked away in my bag when I ordered my drink from the pleasant, waif-ish barista whose appearance embodied the free style of South Austin, but I was a little hesitant as I left it on the table in plain sight when I hopped up to grab my drink.

Don't get me wrong; I'm sure that most people who see a book on this topic might, at the most, smirk a little, if they even respond that much. It is Austin, after all. But I'm still a small-town girl from the Midwest, and it is still my urge to explain these things away at the very slightest indication of a raised eyebrow.

(via www.covenanteyes.com)

I didn't have to do so yesterday, so I will now: The book is called "Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity," and is written by an agnostic-turned Orthodox Jew-turned Christian named Lauren Winner. Incredibly well-read and well-educated, and with not a small amount of life experience behind her, Ms. Winner wrote the book to challenge the Christian approach to topics of sexuality (particularly for single persons), and to suggest a better way.

I bought the book recently, thinking I didn't already own it and hadn't read it, but 62 pages in, I'm absolutely certain I have a copy tucked away in one of the many boxes of books at my parents' house in Michigan. Oh well.

In any case, the book is a difficult read. Not because the language is too advanced or the topics complex, but simply because it challenges the assumptions we have about the nature of society and the relative importance of individuals. Ms. Winner theorizes that, because our individual life decisions shape who we are as people, and because who we are as people shapes our community, then the decisions we make are the business of the community. Certainly, this book was written specifically to address the topic of sex, but with a simple change of vocabulary, it could be about any number of major life topics: marriage, career, finances, use of time, etc. Additionally, though Ms. Winner speaks specifically to the Christian community that we, as followers of that particular faith, have voluntarily joined, I would think that her premises may apply to the greater society, though I doubt I would have few joining me in that thought.

Okay, explanation and related tangent aside, let's talk about Dominican Joe, where I was reading this controversial text.

(via www.dominicanjoe.com)

I'd driven by the plaza at the corner of South Congress (SoCo) and Riverside many times, but never stopped in. So when I dropped my car off for an oil change just a block up the road, I took the opportunity. The door of of the shop is emblazoned with the store's motto, "Drink coffee. Change the world," and I was surprised to find it busy. I ordered my drink (a honey cream latte) and a little treat (the "odd couple" cupcake) and sat down at the only available table left inside the shop.

When my drink was ready, they called me by name (not by drink), and, as I picked up the big black mug, I smiled to see a classic leaf design crafted in the foam.

I am not a coffee connoisseur, and so I won't attempt to rate the quality of the espresso shots buried under that foam. I do know it wasn't a bad shot (and yes, I have had many), and the drink had a light, sweet flavor that somewhat reminded me of Christmas, but mostly just tasted like happy warmth.

The shop is laid out organically, with mostly tables and chairs filling the space. There are benches with more tables that wrap around in front of the sunken coffee bar area, and a couple of cozier seating areas with couches and padded chairs. The decor is simple, with well-aged fixtures and furniture (I'm not sure what anyone would do if they walked into a coffee shop where everything looked brand new), and a dark red accent wall across from the neutrally-toned bar. Large photos of children flanked one wall, and works by local artists filled the other.

The crowd was a mix you'd expect to find at a shop so close to downtown: artists, businesspersons, students, writers, and friends. Overhead, a mix of classic pop and independent musicians played through the sound system, loud enough to fill the silences, but quiet enough to fade into the background.

As I was leaving, I discovered the premise behind the Dominican Joe claim to "change the world." A little of the Dominican Joe story is posted on the walls, and their website tells a little more:

We're not, however, just another Austin coffee house - we're a locally owned business that exists to make a difference in the world. Through our partnership with Makarios, an Austin-based non-profit organization committed to educational and economic development in the Dominican Republic, your purchases make a tangible difference to people in that country.

Very cool, Dominican Joe. 

Check out the website here.

P.S. I couldn't sleep last night, so I watched Speak. I know, I know, I gave in. The movie was actually very good, though not the best thing to fall asleep too. And I'm still not watching Twilight.

The 2010 Texas Book Festival

This weekend, thousands of my fellow self-professed bibilophiles descended on the State Capitol of Texas for the Texas Book Festival. Founded by former first lady and librarian Laura Bush, the festival is now in its 15th year, and the event promotes literacy and supports libraries across Texas.

I found out about the festival two weeks ago while skimming a recent edition of the Austin Chronicle. I tore the ad out of the paper and set it aside, vowing to attend. However, with a last-minute change to my work schedule, I only had a couple of hours on Saturday morning to spare. I arrived early (25 minutes before festivities were scheduled to begin), determined to not waste a minute, parked in the Capitol Visitors parking garage (free for the weekend!), and walked the block over to where exhibitors' tents were already open and waiting.

I was giddy. I'm not even kidding. Apparently a book festival is, without a doubt, one of my happy places.

I'd checked out the schedule online in advance, and knew that I'd only be able to hear one author speak, so I grabbed a paper program and headed to the First UMC Family Life Center on Lavaca, where Laurie Halse Anderson was going to be presenting. The program said she'd be talking about her most recent historical fiction novel, but I know her best as the author of Speak, a powerful and compelling young adult novel I read back in high school.*

Ms. Anderson (can I call you Laurie?) was fantastic - entertaining and passionate about her craft and encouraging to a fellow avoider of creative writing and literature classes who nonetheless aspires to write. But more on Laurie in a future post.

Following the crowd out, I spent my remaining time wandering through the exhibition booths. It was a party, and everyone was there: publishers, authors, bookstores, literacy advocates, book clubs, writing clubs, and even a couple of groups who combine pet therapy and literacy (and wanted to know if my dog would be well-suited for the role...maybe?). Plus, a "midway" had been set up with several local vendors, including Caffe Medici, who were selling blended espresso drinks right there on the sidewalk in front of the capital lawn (Books and coffee? Am I in heaven?).

I stopped into the Barnes & Noble tent (they're a major sponsor of the festival), and spent 20 minutes talking to the nook saleslady. She must be really good at her job, because I walked in thinking that they were silly, unnecessary devices and walked out adding it to the top of my mental Christmas list (3G version. And this case. Please and thanks).

The Barnes & Noble Booksellers tent.

In the end, I managed to sneak away having purchased no books (I tend to buy the books I'm looking for specifically, while I merely borrow those that seem interesting), but with a Texas Book Festival tote bag, a "vintage" festival poster (is 2006 really vintage? Whatever. It's beautiful and will look great in my apartment.), and a handful of buttons (saying things like, "Reading is sexy." & "I read banned books.") which now decorate the tote.

Oh, and I got a ton of free stuff, like sample magazines and fliers and leaflets that I haven't yet sorted through. It's kind of why I needed the tote. I carry a big purse people, and it just wasn't big enough.

I walked back through the capitol lawn to head home after just two short hours, sad that I had to go, but so glad to have the short time I was allowed. Maybe next year I'll even volunteer.

 

*I just found out that the book was also made into a movie starring Kristen Stewart, who you may have heard of. She plays Bella in the Twilight series. I am now severely conflicted;  I'd like to see the movie, but my burning desire to avoid all persons and things connected with Twilight might be stronger. Also, it kills my soul a little that I not only know who Kristen Stewart is, but why she's famous and the name of her character.