Chapter 58
The Puget Sound Book Company
101 South Main Street??Seattle, WA 98104
1/20/94
Dear Frida,
While I might enjoy gloating a teensy-tiny bit about Kirby (perchance absence will make the heart grow fonder), I’d never gloat about your mom. I’m proud of you for apologizing. And it ties in to an interesting conversation I had with Franny on the phone the other night. I was telling her how I worry I’ll always be playing catch-up because I didn’t think about life’s Big Ideas when I was growing up. She said don’t be silly. No one has Big Ideas when they’re young. That’s what our twenties are for. I bet a few of my fellow booksellers who read Thomas Hardy in their bassinets would disagree, but it made me wonder. Maybe our twenties are also for having Big Conversations with our parents that we couldn’t have when we were kids, because when we were kids they were too busy raising us and we were too busy being raised to really understand them.
This is probably on my mind because Confession: I haven’t told Mom and Dad I’m moving to New York. I can never seem to find the right time, and it’s not like Sven and I have even decided on the exact date for me to join him. I don’t know why but whenever I think about telling them, it feels like Once again, I’m at a loss for words. The store feels off-kilter with Sven gone, but I don’t have much time to miss him when I’m working. I have another new role. Do you know what a book club is? It’s when a group of people reads the same book every month and meets to talk about it. Our night manager K2 (that’s her nickname) started a program where book clubs can come in and a bookseller helps them plan their reading list for the year. A few weeks ago, she chose me to be one of those booksellers. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned her before, but she always knows how to pick the exact right book for a person, so it’s a real honor.
We have a regular list of store recs like The Joy Luck Club , Beloved , and Housekeeping , and all the clubs have been reading A Thousand Acres ever since it came out in paperback. But I also get to suggest my own choices. I already got three clubs to add Moon Tiger . It’s surreal, Frida. I stand in front of groups of well-read women, and they want to hear what I have to say. The other night I explained why The All of It is great for discussions (it centers on a moral dilemma, in case you’re dying of curiosity). I didn’t once feel like an imposter. Between book clubs and special orders, I’ve become an essential part of the store.
Sven stocked up on phone cards, and he calls at least every other day. He can’t wait to take me to browse used books at the Strand, and he says our new Lombardi’s is a place called Gene’s in Greenwich Village where he finally found a nice apartment he can afford. (That’s the main reason we hadn’t set a date for my move.) We wanted a brownstone. I love that word. It sounds so New York. But Confession: Thinking about moving is making me feel sentimental about my little Ballard burrow.
It’s so cozy here in the winter. On my days off I read (Anita and Penelope have new novels out) and cook (I’m working on this enchilada recipe from Gourmet that has spinach in it). Even though my windowsill garden is desolate this time of year, a while back I bought vases to force bulbs. I arranged them on a shelf in my closet (they need dark to get their start), and every morning I peek in and see the roots reaching a little deeper into the water. When I looked today, a few of the bright green stems are starting to dimple at their tips. I can’t remember which ones are hyacinths and which ones are paper whites, and I haven’t felt this kind of anticipation since the night before Christmas when I was a kid. I need to keep reminding myself that I can force bulbs in a New York closet, too.
Love,
Kate
P.S. Go to the American Express office on rue Scribe. I hope you like my surprise. I’ll explain in my next letter.