Llew's Reviews

I hope the world doesn’t ever count on me to create peace or solve hunger problems if I ever come across a lamp on which to make three wishes. Though I suppose I shall feel mild regret as I sit with perfect skin and health until I am distracted my very own chocolate covered boy. I also hope that Laurel doesn’t count on me to stay with her if I happen to lay eyes on Daniel Handler while at the show for I shall have latched myself to his leg quicker than you can yell, “Count Olaf!”.

I was jumping around and dancing on Friday morning because Senor Handler was to sign his new Snicket book at the show in the afternoon. Oh love! We waited in line for an hour (near the front) to only have a large man fearing rioting from the masses

to meekly speak that there was no book nor an author. I stood there stunned for a second before saying, “Someone kidnapped him before we did!” However, we were able to meet Brett Helquist (who does the illustrations for the Series of Unfortunate

Events) and I had an actual conversation with him as we went to the same college (though he graduated two years before I started there). He’s my new literary crush though he’s very married. He has black hair, glasses, and crooked teeth. Very darling boy to crush and I am in love with his illustrations.

My exciting grabs of the show (other than Brett Helquist) are a galley copy of a book out by the author of Freaks & Geeks which I plan to read tonight (so I shall report back faithfully) and a great tote “Welcome Book” back which is gray with an orange elephant.

This afternoon I got on the hotel library to find three teenagers (14-15) staring blankly. I pushed the button for my floor and they gasped, “oh!” They hadn’t realized you had to press the buttons and was wondering why it didn’t work. So, I explained to them what they needed to do (since they were kind of confused and had to switch elevators). It never occured to me that someone wouldn’t know how to work an elevator. It was really cute.

Today I felt like I was in a video on MTV. I was on the corner of 45th and 10th and a “lady” comes walking across the street in a string bikini and stilleto heels. There was a boy standing a block behind (always behind for obvious reasons) ogling and making gestures. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I imagine it was something like, “baby *mumble mumble bleep* please, baby.” It was classic.

Do you know how sometimes it doesn’t matter what it is but ever single thing seems to irritate you beyond control? That happens to me a lot but here it’s the exact opposite. No matter what happens I’m completely happy about it. (I’m not doing it on purpose – promise.) Plus, the things I was most worried about turned out to be great. I have to drive into the city which I’m apprehensive about but I get a few minutes into it and realize that I find it FUN. It’s like a video game with all the dodging of cabs and then EXTRA POINTS for missing the swinging cranes randomly in the middle of the street. My roommate (who I’ve never met before) is now my

BOOKSTORE GODDESS. She’s this incredibly feisty independent older lady who amuses me to no end. Of course, this might be because I haven’t talked to her but a few minutes last night. I was hoping I would go the entire weekend and not actually speak to her because we kept missing each other. I thought it would be cool to say I roomed with a stranger in NYC once who I actually never talked to the entire time I was there.

Op, time is up on this computer and I haven’t posted anything about the national booksellers convention which is the entire reason I am in NYC. It’s great and Laurel rules my world (even if she works on the “other side.” I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to be at the show with – she is wonderful! Plus, all you have to do is throw a little holy water on her and she stops channeling those DK demons.

BILWWNLM: James Joyce said that what he really wanted were readers willing to devote their entire lives to the reading of his works.

Me: I’d really like readers who are willing to give me the money earned from devoting their entire lives to working.

Seriously though, at first I thought that all writers would want readers who could do nothing more than fawn over their works but then

I began to think of what life would be like if you spent your entire life just reading a Nicholas Sparks novel. If the Devil ever needs

any ideas for hell, I’m here for him.

So JR Tolkien might be dead but his dark eyed dwarven creatures from the underground still brave the light of day to venture into my

bookshop to torture me. On Monday, one of the little trolls with cavernous eyes shuffled up to me and said (after procuring a GED study guide), “I’m looking for an Oprah bookclub book. I don’t know the name or author but it has to do with a main character who is abused.” Rather than banging my head repeatedly against the service desk, I went over to the section, went through each title with her and gave a short description of each of the plots only for her to end up buying THE PILOT’S WIFE. That’s when I banged my head repeatedly.

I’m about to embark on a never before attempted journey to the much mentioned Miss MD’s – a highly paranoid true crime afficianado who Sara refers to as “everybody’s favorite candidate for a lobotomy” – house to deliver a book since she has had surgery. I wanted to post before I went. I don’t think MMD would intentionally harm me but I think she might mistakenly taken me for a serial killer out to do nefarious activities, jump me, and leave my body hacked to shreds after she crumples in a ball in horror (with a slight pride over her superiorally performed leaping scissors kick of moments earlier) when she realizes the bookstore bag which dropped from my hand after the attack. So, if you don’t hear from me again – you’ll know the reason.

By the way, little pudgy girls named Noel are MUCH more dangerous than they appear to be. One decided today that she wanted to take Flannery home with her (this is after shrieking loudly and continuously until all other customers left the store mistakenly thinking that a fire alarm of some sort was going off). Noel’s father

tried to explain that Flannery belonged to me but Noel asserted that she wanted to “share” Flannery. I felt like teaching her a lesson

that she sadly will most likely never learn in Kindergarden. Sharing is something you do with your stuff. However, when it’s a bigger kid who has somthing you want you’re basically just likely to get a “Leave my damn dog alone before she bites you, you twerp.”

Where is Fulghum when you need for him to make an addendum?

I’ve spent all day sucking the life out of mentholyptus halls cough drops but my sore throat isn’t soothed, my nasal passages aren’t

cooled, and my cough is NOT fought. Advanced vapor action my eye.

Miss MD – a regular true crime loving paranoid customer who has the unique talent of matching her hair color to her neon brassy pink

lipstick – informed me that my cold is probably being caused by something TERRORISTS are doing to the AIR.

I should have known.

I am going to start a petition AGAINST VIAGRA. Today, a man in his eighties came in and bought “The Guide To Getting It Awn” (as you can tell it’s one of those sex books. This one has the nice distinction as only having drawn illustrations instead of photographs

but it actually makes fun of it’s own illustrations and points out when the people aren’t exactly obeying laws of physics. Not that I’ve

ever looked at it because I’m not married and thus never think about SEX. It wouldn’t be PROPER for yet another incompentent

heterosexual.) His hands were shaking so much that he had problems opening his wallet yet those are going to be the instrument for.. OH PLEASE STOP THE MENTAL IMAGES ALREADY. Do these people WAIT for Saturday when they’ll know I’ll be here. I had three of my worst customers EVER today and these things people call their children HURT MY HEAD LIKE A HUNDRED DOGS!