When The World Is Dark, How Do You Rekindle Your Light?
Something has happened to me over the course of the last 3 or so years that, if I were being fair and honest, has been happening in fits and spurts for about 10 years now: I haven’t felt that spark of browsing bookstore shelves.
When you work in the book world, serendipity in the bookstore is tricky. You know what the new books are because you write about the new books, and if you’re not personally writing about a specific genre or topic, you likely know about those titles anyway from your coworkers or from generally being engaged in news about books.
What’s been an added layer of challenge for me personally has been knowing too much about banned books. A banned books display too often gets an eye roll from me–fairly, if it’s clear the display hasn’t paid any attention at all to the kinds of books actually being banned right now and unfairly, if I am just tired of seeing books screamed about with no action put behind it.* But worse than that is seeing any new-to-me title on a bookstore shelf and thinking “the banners will have a field day with this one.” That thought alone bothers me to no end, and yet, I cannot let it go.
I’ve talked about the trauma that book censorship has created for educators and librarians, as well as any human whose identity is being deemed inappropriate, explicit, or pornographic. It’s also directly impacted anyone doing the work to help those in these positions. I thought being as removed from the ground as possible would help shield me from trauma. If I’m not the one at the school being called a groomer or worse, it can’t hurt me that much.
Except that I am called these things, and the tactics that I’ve been at the receiving end of–secret recordings of talks I’ve done, one of my books being banned in retaliation for doing this work, the non stop harassment on social media more days than I prefer to think about–have left their mark. I love my local indie and my local libraries immensely, but it’s become increasingly difficult to go in and peruse.
I don’t believe in waxing poetically about the romance of a bookstore or library. I’ve worked in too many libraries with leather rot to think there is anything sexy about the smell of books and I’ve spent too many hours behind the reference desk to think that I want to rub my face on books (the book might be new, but how many folks have not washed their hands before touching it on the shelf?).
If anything, I find myself envious of the people who can escape into an imagined fantasy of either. I miss being able to even browse without feeling some kind of dread or worry or exhaustion over the non-stop bookness of my life, even if I love my job, find meaning in doing what I do, and know how much books change people and the world around us.
All of these things weighed on me when I found myself at an indie bookstore. It was a brisk day, and I had driven to a library about an hour away to be part of a panel lecture about the current state of book bans. I’d gotten to the location early and figured I would run into the bookstore and grab a few holiday presents. My indie has been a boon for my interest in doing puzzles, so I suspect this particular store would have some options I could peruse and I knew I could pick up a 2024 calendar, too.
I started to browse new releases and began to feel the heavy feelings again. A new YA book I hadn’t spent much time on grabbed my attention, I turned it over to read the jacket copy, and there again the creeping dread: this is the kind of book the bigots would salivate over performing at the next school board meeting.
Puzzle, calendar, and new notebook in hand, I started to make my way to the register, feeling defeated again in my attempts to find wonder and excitement and curiosity in the bookstore.
But before I got there, I took a right back to the children’s section. I’d already acquired a couple of book presents for my toddler daughter–a Little Golden Book compilation of several Richard Scarry stories (her favorite!) and two National Geographic paperbacks on dinosaurs and ducks. I didn’t need or even want to get her anything else, since holiday shopping for her had been wrapped up.
I spent the next 30, 35, 40, 45 minutes in that small area in the back of the store poring over picture books. First one about shapes, then one about colors, several books featuring Bluey, dinosaurs, cats, and rabbits. The puzzle, notebook, and calendar found a temporary home stacked on the floor and I crossed my legs on the floor paging through each of the picture books, drawn in by gorgeous illustrations, simple but engaging text, and wondered just how many of these titles I could justify buying my kid in addition to the ones she was already going to get.
Then I found The One.
I hardly needed to spend any time flipping through the copy of Emma Straub’s debut picture book illustrated by Blanca Gómez. My daughter loves hats in a way no description could adequately capture, and seconds within seeing the cover for Very Good Hats, I knew I’d found a treasure for her.
The book teetered atop my pile of finds, and I continued to page through the table of new books in the children’s section. I checked my phone and realized I needed to get to my lunch date, so I purchased my goods and headed out.
Then the rest of the day, whenever I got the chance, I talked about that book. First to my co-panelists, who had asked what I bought at the bookstore. Then to my husband, who knew immediately the book would be a hit when our daughter got it. Then to my mom, who thought the whole premise of the book was clever–anything can be a hat if you want it to be and that’s the beauty of imagination and creativity.
It would take me a few days to realize that this experience was not about that book. It is indeed a book I cannot wait for my daughter to open and make excited noises over. I know I’ll be reading it every day to her for weeks and months, much like I still do with several other ones that are among her favorites.
What happened was a rekindling of that spark of discovery that has been missing for way too long. I spent a good chunk of my free time not just in a bookstore, but in a space where I could fully give into the magic of serendipity. I knew almost none of the books I’d encountered; yes, I edit plenty of content and read plenty about children’s books outside the world of YA, but what separates a good bookstore from an outstanding one is its curation. This particular indie bookstore had selected a range of children’s titles, both new and old, and created a space to allow for perusal of them. These books had no baggage associated with them from me, and I brought to them no preconceived notions of what I expected from them. The space between those two things invited marveling at possibility–a feeling I did not remember having in a long time.
As I write this, I’m in the midst of a deep reading slump. I can listen to an audiobook for an hour or so a day, but I cannot get myself to pick up a novel or a graphic novel. I have not finished several books I have started over the last couple of months. It’s not for lack of trying. It’s for lack of energy, for feeling overwhelmed by my life and the world more broadly. It is much easier and, frankly, more enjoyable right now to while away the few minutes I have before I fall asleep on TikTok. And that’s okay–we can fight back our urges as much as we wish to, but sometimes, it’s through listening to them and honoring them that we are actually able to course correct. To find stability and excitement in activities that really do bring us joy.
While Very Good Hats may not be for me, it found me when I needed it most. Maybe, just maybe, when I watch my daughter’s eyes light up in a few days as we read it together, my spark will grow even brighter.
And if it doesn’t, I know none of this is permanent, even if during the darkest and most challenging hours, it feels like I will never feel that joy again.
It’s out there. Sometimes, I just need to stop chasing it so hard and let it find me instead.
*Bookstores need to make profit. Highlighting banned books helps do that and helps with exposure to the books being banned. But by highlighting classics by dead white men, bookstores miss the point of what’s going on right now. If the bookstores are highlighting contemporary banned books, I can’t help but wonder if they’ve actually done anything in the fight to ensure access to those books by people who can’t afford to wander the bookstore and purchase them. I’m going to brag on my local indie here and put it out there as an idea for other bookstores looking for a lower-stakes and high-impact way to put the work in. For Banned Books Week this week, my indie did a book display, but in addition to selling the books, they put out a QR code for anyone to make a financial donation that would be put onto one of their store’s gift cards. That gift card would be split among local educators in the community to build their classroom libraries; those educators would have a curated list of diverse books to spend that money on. They raised $2,650 in a week that not only stayed in the community but did so in a way to help educators with building their libraries and helped educate bookstore users about the realities of book bans.
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