We were talking at our annual book group holiday lunch yesterday about getting gifts for our children. Everyone, it seems, is cutting back again this year. And once again, some of the impetus for change is coming from children who are greener and leaner and less interested in filling up their lives with possessions. I expressed some regret at not getting to buy my boys things, because it really is the only time in the year when I do give them presents. But like the other ladies, I am very happy not to have to do a lot of shopping, schlepping, and wrapping.
I don't much like stores. Malls give me a headache. I'm cranky about having to navigate around a gazillion careless people parked in front of the product I need, chatting heedlessly on cell phones while blocking the progress of a dozen of us with other demands on our time. I'm already anticipatorily cranky about the mountains of sugar that lie between me and January 1st. I find it hard to imagine putting up a wreath when I've still got a few brave flowers blooming in the garden.
But I'm dealing with this minor case of the holiday grouchies, and with a number of people who will need some wrapped gift under the tree, by doing my shopping at the one set of stores that make me smile instead of frown: Bookstores. Luckily, my family and friends are bookworms, so I can go from store to store with my loved ones in mind, and chat up the bookloving staff. "What's new? What's good? What are your customers falling in love with?"
In a great bookstore, like Water Street, in Exeter, New Hampshire (where I recently did a Quarry event with Frank Cook, JE Seymour and Norma Burrows, pictured here) or Porter Square Books in Cambridge, Mass., my questions draw enthusiastic suggestions. The booksellers will pluck books off the shelf and give me quick descriptions. This post-apocalyptic one, for the physics guy, is called young adult but all the adults who read it are blown away. Perhaps Nick Hornby for the film maker? A new Julia Glass for the relative who loved Three Junes. Can any Ishiguro ever compare with The Remains of the Day? I chat. I collect a pile of books. I begin to make my own holiday wish list.
I spend my life in the world of books. I eat, sleep, love, and breathe books. When I die, it will probably be because I'm crushed by the toppling cascade of my TBR pile. Last year the only book I got for Christmas was a cookbook. This year, I'm making a wishlist and hope they're checking it twice.
I'm buying all these books because I love books, of course. I'm also buying all these books to set a good example for the rest of you. Because I know that not all readers understand the importance of book buying to authors. Several years ago, I did a library event with a few other authors, and we all brought along copies of our books to sell. At the end, when we authors were circulating, and drinking punch, and eating cream cheese brownies, two women came up to me, declared themselves to be great fans of mine, and said, "But we've been having a terrible time finding your first book." I pulled a copy out of my bag and said, "Well..you're in luck, because I have a copy right here." They backed up a few steps and one of them said, "Oh, we don't BUY books."
I realized then that there's an educational component to being a writer--and I'm not talking about teaching writing. I'm talking about teaching readers to buy. I know we're all being careful about our finances these days. I also know that writers live and die by our book sales. Sales are good, the publisher will want to buy another book from us. Sales are poor, the publisher goes looking for a promising new author. Paperbacks cost little more than a few cups of Starbucks coffee. Trade paperbacks cost as much as a couple pairs of panties, and the elastic doesn't give out. A hardcover book can last a lifetime, be read by dozens of people, or you can enjoy it and then give it to your library, take a charitable deduction, and give pleasure to many.
When I graduated from high school, valedictorian of a class of about 26, our motto was: In Ourselves Our Future Lies. For writers, that also properly reads: In Yourselves Our Future Lies. I hope I'll see you at the bookstore.
P.S. Our book group is also creating our own small buzz (and cluck) with bees and chicks from Heifer, International.

