Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/7

Everything fell into place today. The rain held off, then I found a parking spot right under the tree at Bay Parkway and 85th Street. I was able to display the maximum number of titles. Of course, none of that matters if the public isn't interested. That worry was vanquished immediately by the lovely, sweet Irina, who bought A Hitch in Twilight. What a doll. Some guy is going to be awfully lucky. I hope he appreciates it. Spasiba, mademoiselle.
Next up was a middle age woman who has organized a lending library in her building. She purchased hardcover copies of Tami Hoag's Dark Horse and Jonathan Kellerman's Mystery. She said her daughter wouldn't touch any book that wasn't purchased new, afraid of who might have handled them. Maybe that explains the dearth of sales on the street. I mean, I carry the work of the most popular authors, almost all the books are in excellent condition, and I all but give them away.
Bad News Billy showed. He is behind on his rent. Of course, that didn't stop him from buying a collector's guide for his brother and a High School Musical novelette for his grand-daughter. I offered them to him gratis, but he wouldn't hear of it.
I hadn't seen Neil in a long time. A few years ago he interviewed me on the street for his wacky cable access show, DellaPeppo Village. He gave me a CD of his own music. I listened to some of it on the drive home. One song sounded like a natural for a Country artist. It's main lyric was: "You like to do it in the morning, I like to do it at night." Another track reminded me of Lenny Kravitz's "Are You Gonna Go My Way?" Good luck, Neil.
The day was capped when a Russian gentleman asked if I had any books on art. As a matter of fact, among Omar the Friendly Porter's latest donation, there was one on perspective. When I told him it was a dollar, he seemed about to burst into laughter, as if I were so silly. I couldn't argue with him. There are days I stand out there feeling like a fool. Fortunately, today wasn't one of them thanks to these kind folks, especially Irina.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/6

I finally caught up with The King's Speech (2010), courtesy of Netflix. I was leery. A friend whose opinion I value thought it was over-rated. I disagree. I was captured immediately. The main reason it worked so beautifully is that it humanized the royals.
The Duke of York stammered. When his brother, King Edward, abdicated to marry a divorcee, George VI ascended to the throne. Although the royals by then, 1936, were figureheads with virtually no political power, they were history personified. The kings and queens of England advanced western civilization. Their pluses far surpassed their minuses. Even today they remain vital, as the weddings of Diana and Will and Kate attest. So it was imperative for the king to conquer his impediment and rally the nation against the evil of Hitler.
The cast is a dream for world cinema buffs. Colin Firth was fantastic as King George. Geoffrey Rush did his usual excellent work as the eccentric therapist. Helena Bonham Carter beautifully understated her role as the King's supportive wife. Derek Jacobi shined as the Archbishop. Jacobi, of course, played the stuttering emperor in the greatest mini-series of all time, I, Claudius (1976). Firth played Darcy in the BBC's fantastic 1995 version of Jane Austen's masterpiece, Pride and Prejudice. Michael Gambon, who played George V, was the star of another great mini-series: The Singing Detective (1986). Claire Bloom played his wife. Guy Pearce (L.A. Confidential, The Hurt Locker) played Edward. The only performance that did not ring true for me was that of Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill. It reminded me more of Alfred Hitchcock. Churchill is seen in private moments. Perhaps his persona was different behind closed doors. I can still envision him with a big cigar clenched in the corner of his mouth, smiling, flashing the V for victory sign. He was one of the most important figures of the 20th Century. Spall has a mountain of impressive credits, and I've never done any acting, so it is most likely me that is wrong here.
The film won the Oscar as Best Picture. Tom Hooper, who has worked largely in British television, won Best Director. David Seidler, who had a speech impediment himself as a child, was the oldest winner of Best Screenplay. And Firth won Best Actor. On a scale of five, I rate The King's Speech four-and-a-half. Long live the king.
Thanks to the kind folks who bought books today on Bay Parkway.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/5

Early in his career Stephen King's publisher discouraged him from issuing more than a book a year. He solved the problem by inventing an alter-ego, Richard Bachman, whose manuscripts were said to have been discovered after his death by his wife. He was also curious as to whether his success was merely luck. Unfortunately, the ruse was discovered after seven books, which King believed insufficient time to properly assess the issue. Sales of the books skyrocketed as soon as it was discovered King had written them. Thinner was the fourth in line. I just finished it, the first time I've sampled his work. I chose it above all the others a woman had donated because it was the shortest, coming in at just over 300 pages, which I maintain is the right length for any thriller. I really enjoyed it. The prose and dialogue were solid and the story was engrossing. He left the ending up to the reader's imagination. I would have preferred something more definitive. At one point, he lampooned himself, saying the story was as outrageous as any done by Stephen King. He characterized Bachman's inevitable demise as "cancer of the pseudonym."
When I first thought of becoming an author, my goal was to write the Great American Novel. I wanted to be acknowledged not as a writer but as an artist, someone who did only meaningful work. I believed popular works such as King's were beneath me. All these years later, hopefully much wiser, meaning eludes me (is that some sort of oxymoron?). I'm not sure there is any broader meaning to life than that which an individual ascribes to it. I wanted to create works that rang with universal truth and lasted centuries, not ones that provided the instant gratification of light entertainment. Now I wonder if such works are just as important, given that they help people get through life's journey, its bittersweet mystery. Of course, this may simply be the rationale of a failed artist, one who came up woefully short. There is no comfort in the unknown, of wondering how one's life work will be viewed long after death. It smacks of delusion. Popular writers know they have touched millions of lives. That is a great accomplishment.
On a scale of five, I rate Thinner three-and-a-half.
Thanks to Susan, who again bought several books, my only sales of the day. She said books are her only vice. She learned practicality from her father, who grew up during the great depression. He was so practical, in fact, that his first birthday gift to her when she was a young wife was a mop. During good years it would be a pot. Those old-timers were a different breed.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/3

It was another surprising day at the floating bookshop. I welcomed two customers back into the fold. Yelena, the young romance lady, must have left work early. I used to catch her going on a coffee run in the other direction when the weather was threatening and I set up at the viaduct. She overpaid, as usual, for Jackie Collins' Married Lovers.
I'd thought Maria was long gone from the neighborhood. I was so happy to see her. She bought A Hitch in Twilight almost two years ago. Her family was caught in the mortgage mess. The good news is they will be able to sell the house, and she is doing all she can to see that her daughter continues at the University of Bridgeport. I was shocked when she said she wanted to buy Close to the Edge. Are you sure? I wanted to say, feeling guilty about the prospect of taking money from her.
Eric, a young man of color, dressed for success, purchased a book on middle management, part of Abdul the Friendly Porter's latest donation. The other day he bought Vince Lombardi's Strive to Excel. He spoke of his dreams, one of which is to charter a plane to Bermuda, which costs $26,000. He wants to take his five-year-old sister along. He bought her a couple of books, one on aviation. Good luck, Eric.
Thanks, folks.
Hey, mystery fans - in case you don't know, PBS is running a new series, Zen, based on the novels of Michael Dibdin, on Masterpiece Mystery. It was shot on location in Rome, and centers on detective Aurelio Zen, a Venetian by birth. Rufus Sewell, whose credits go back to 1991, is the lead. Sci-fi fans will remember him as the star of Dark City (1993). Zen is a man of great integrity in a sea of corruption and cynicism characteristic of the films of Martin Scorsese. It is odd that almost the entire cast speaks in British accents, but it is the only fault of the series. Dibdin was a Brit himself. Lest we forget, all the great series based on classic Russian novels also suffered that same "flaw." To my dismay, only three episodes were shot. The second, Cabal, was as good as mysteries get.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/3

Rest in Peace Bubba Smith, 66, who has died of natural causes. Smith was a huge All-America defensive tackle at Michigan State in '65 & '66. He was the NFL's number one pick overall in 1967 and played on the Baltimore Colts 1970 Super Bowl championship team. He was a two-time All-Pro selection. Since that was so long ago, he is probably remembered more for his acting, particularly in the Police Academy series. He was a legendary figure. I began college at Western Michigan University in 1967, and tales of the wild ways of MSU's football players filtered down to us. Legend had it that Bubba was not very bright. One story had him approaching an instructor who had flunked him and demanding: "Bubba pass." The instructor looked at him and said: "Bubba fail." Whereupon the big man grabbed the guy by the collar, lifted him off the ground so that they were nose to nose, and said: "Bubba kill!" No doubt this is mythology.
There was an interesting development in pro football today. Minnesota Vikings huge offensive tackle Bryant McKinnie was cut for being overweight. He is close to 400 pounds. I wonder if there will be discrimination lawsuits. Management's position is understandable. Ten years ago Korey Stringer, also an offensive tackle, died from complications brought on by heat stroke during training camp. Lawsuits followed. Circa 1970, lineman were in the 250-275 pound range. These days they're 350-375. It's more dangerous than ever out there.
And finally on the sports front, it has been reported that the Yankees' Alex Rodriguez has been involved in high stakes poker games. He was smart enough to leave a recent one when it looked like things were going to get really ugly. I wonder if he cheats at cards as he did at baseball. He is a great player, but, given his alleged steroid use, we will never know exactly how great.
Thanks to the kind folks who purchased books today.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/2

So the jokers finally got around to raising the debt ceiling. Of course, the entitlement monster remains unaddressed. As usual, the politicians punted the problem down the road, praying for an economic miracle to bail out their profligate spending, like the internet and real estate booms did previously. Trouble is, there is nothing on the horizon to give anyone hope, unless one believes the green movement will suddenly become economically viable. The best thing about the deal being passed is that it will put an end to the press coverage until the next time the ceiling is breached. Anyone who thought the two sides would let the country fall into default does not understand the gutless nature of politicians, whose main goal is to hold on to the perks and privileges of elected office. It will be interesting to see if we will continue to go the way of Europe's cradle to grave Socialism or reverse course. The 2012 election will tell us. Expect the media to do all in its power to discredit the Tea Party, whom VP Joe Biden referred to as terrorists. As a conservative, I'm not optimistic. The sense of entitlement in this country is astonishing and depressing: "I exist, therefore I am owed." Anyone who suggests Social Security or Medicare or Medicaid be means tested is attacked. Most argue that they are entitled to what they paid into the system. I argue that the programs are supposed to be a safety net. And no one has proposed a logical follow up question: Will those who live very long lives cease demanding taxpayer money when they reach the amount they have paid into the system? Let's have a show of hands. In less than ten months, I will be 62 and eligible for Social Security, despite the fact that I have yet to withdraw funds from any of my three retirement accounts. Wouldn't it make sense for the government to tell me the accounts would have to fall below a certain level before I became eligible for payments? Multiply me by thousands, perhaps millions of baby boomers, and it seems like a prescription for disaster.
Thanks to the kind folks who bought books today, and to Dave, who donated about $100 worth of hardcovers to the cause.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 8/1

It was a fun day at the floating bookshop. I received book donations from five regulars, including the Merry Mail-Woman and Abdul the Friendly Porter, and I had some sales. The first, Clement G. Martin's How To Stay Young All Your Life, went to a 68-year-old black woman who could have passed for 48 - easily. She should write a book and co-op the title from the tome in Mel Brooks' Young Fron-ken-steen (1975) - "How I did It."
Hector bought The Reader's Digest Healthy Cookbook. He learned the culinary arts while doing a ten-year stretch in prison. Cooking was so foreign to him in the beginning that he didn't even know the water had to boil in order to make mac 'n cheese. He asked if I knew how to tell when pasta was ready. I was sure he would say by biting into a strand - but noooooo! "Throw it up to the ceiling. If it sticks, it's ready; if it doesn't, it's not." I laughed, unsure if he were joking or serious.
Among Abdul's donation were The Teachings of the Tao, which sold immediately, and Joel Samberg's The Jewish Book of Lists. "How much is that?" a black woman asked. When I told her, she opened her purse, put on her best accent, and said: "Such a deal." She was thrilled that I got the joke.
Thanks, folks.
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