We’ve had sales reps visiting our store almost every day for the past several weeks, most of them bringing along stacks of galleys to add to our ever-growing piles. The other day I boxed up all the ARCs of books that have already come into our store, save a handful I thought our booksellers might still be keen to read in galley form. I also cleared off a shelf that had previously held some display props, and only then did I have enough space in my office bookcase to house the galleys for titles coming out between now and August, of which there seem to be more and more each season.

Thinking some of you might need help visualizing this predicament, I took some photos so you could see for yourself. In the shot below is the (cheap) Ikea bookcase that is home to our children’s and YA galleys, sorted by month, so that I can easily remove old ones from the shelf in order to make room for new ones. (The ones I remove get donated to a local organization called Read Boston.) Ignore the top shelf (which on the left houses older galleys I still hope to read one of these days and on the right houses back issues of the Horn Book and various children’s literature reference books) — the shelves below those are all galleys for books being published between now and August (a handful at the end are September and October). Yes, there are a few we have multiple copies of, but those duplicates are offset by the fact that I also took a number of forthcoming galleys home to clutter up my bookcases there. AND some of our galeys have been borrowed by other booksellers and by the few kids who read and review ARC’s for us these days. AND there are a few publishers who don’t send us complete sets of their galleys, so not all of their books are here either.

Not too bad, you’re thinking? Well… I thought the same thing. When they’re lined up the impossibility of reading all those books somehow seems a bit less frightening. It’s deceptive. So I took another photo but staged things a bit differently for this one. I pulled all the galleys off the shelf that correspond with books being published only in the month of MAY, so that you can see how tall just that one month’s pile turns out to be. I even removed any duplicate galleys, so you couldn’t accuse me of cheating for effect.

(That’s a bit scarier looking, no?) For the sake of scale, I also took a (rather unflattering shot) of me, standing beside that May galley pile. Wearing shoes my height = 5′ 4.

There are about 60 galleys in that pile, which stretches out to approx. 4 feet of books coming out from predominantly large publishers in just ONE month this year. And, again, there are some galleys missing from that stack, so I’m certainly not accounting for everything.

Even the laziest bookseller in the least busy bookstore in the country STILL couldn’t  possibly read all the books coming out in a given season nowadays. And those of us at the opposite end of the spectrum (which describes most of the booksellers I know) are lucky if we’re managing to make much more than a dent. Especially when it comes to months as jam-packed as this coming May!

Oh to be as multi-talented as my pal Erica Perl! She writes divine books, parents divine children, and participates in wonderfully wacky activities like this one: making marshmallow Peep dioramas for a contest hosted by a major newspaper. Yes, the Washington Post is hosting its second annual Peeps Diorama Contest, and Erica and her daughters (Franny and Bougie) have come up with a doozy of an entry: Harry Peeper and the Deathly Mallows!!

Erica reveals the secrets of this diorama’s creation on her blog. Yes, she did indeed sew yarn hair onto Ron Peep and Hermione Peep. Talk about dedication to a fabulously ridiculous cause! 

Of course, Erica’s not alone in this insanity. One look at the gallery of photos from last year’s contest shows that MANY people put a LOT of time into their Peep shows (pun intended). Now that others have seen how it’s done, this year’s competition is bound to be even stiffer. (About as stiff as, say, a container of stale Peeps!) So, keep your fingers crossed for the Perl family clan. Win big, Franny and Bougie!

It’s too late to submit entries for this year’s competition, but not too early to start thinking ahead to 2009! Anyone have book theme suggestions for one of next year’s creations? Me, I’m thinking Peep Eyre. Or maybe Peep’s Web (featuring the words "Some Peep," of course.) Moby Peep, perhaps? Hmm…

For more Peep laughs, be sure to read the detailed account of a surgical procedure performed on conjoined Peep quintuplets.

Two weeks ago Gareth and I drove to Saratoga Springs, N.Y., to cut a rug at the annual Dance Flurry Festival. Turns out we weren’t the only children’s book creators in attendance at this big event. That’s Joseph Bruchac in the center of the room below, beating a drum during "Dancing Our Stories: New England Native American Dances," one of two workshops he led with his son James Bruchac.

When we weren’t brushing up on our swing or tango moves, Gareth and I spent a bit of timing exploring the town of Saratoga Springs, where we stumbled upon Lyrical Ballad Bookstore, one of the prettiest and most well-stocked antiquarian bookstores I’ve ever had the pleasure of browsing. While we didn’t have ample time to spend in the place (I could have happily spent days there!) I did find enough time to snap a few photos for your viewing pleasure.

Below is the main entrance to the store, with Gareth peering in the doorway.

To the right of the entrance above is another nice display window, below.

Here’s the front counter that sits just to your left as you enter the door.

Bookends are displayed along the top of many of the store’s bookcases — I don’t know when or where I’ve seen so many in any one place.

While it may not look big from the front, the store is suprisingly large inside, with a maze of rooms tucked at the back, all chock full of books. Here’s a shot of the front room, facing the counter and front windows.

At the back of that front room is what was once a bank vault, as its door clearly indicates.

I like the quote on this plaque, which sits above the bank vault door: "The only book you’ll ever regret is the one you didn’t buy."

To your right as you face the bank vault are (what else?) more books, tucked into every available inch of space.

To your left are… WOW! The store seems to go on forever!

Here’s one of the rooms off the corridor above. Note that there’s a lack of shelf space in the place, despite its seemingly endless bookcases.

Here’s another room:

And another:

Here’s one that has both books and antique prints on display.

Here’s a print I had my eye on:

After touring that maze of rooms at the back I returned to the front of the store again, this time to the room that’s to your right as you enter  — the one behind the display window printed with the store’s name. It’s chock-a-block with huge art books, mostly, on every artist and era imaginable. Here’s how that room looks as you enter it:

Here’s how that same room appears as you’re facing the street. (Note the bookends atop the bookcases on the left-hand wall.)

I loved the cozy feel of this room on a sunlit day. It made me wish I had several hours in which to curl up with a copy of… any number of books I saw in this store! Here’s one I was particularly tempted by: Heroic Women of History.

What I was tempted by most, though, was not any particular book, but a bookcase: the beautiful rotating bookcase that sits just inside the store window. Tell me you don’t covet this:

That bookcase is good evidence of the fact that the Lyrical Ballad offers as much candy for the eyes as it does for the wallet. I was so taken with the beauty of the spines lined up on many of the shelves that I went a little camera-trigger happy. Here are three shots, just to give you a sample:

What can I tell you about the history and operations of the Lyrical Ballad? Not much, unfortunately. I spent too much time browsing and quickly found myself with none left to chat with the owners and pepper them with questions. Fortunately the Book Trout blog has filled that void with a wonderful post about this wonderful bookstore. Be sure to read what Book Trout has to say, and check out their other blog entries too. Reading them makes me think I definitely need to visit THEIR store, Old Saratoga Books, on my next Upstate NY trip!

I drive a silver 2002 VW Beetle, which I’ve dubbed "The Notorious B.U.G." (or "Buggy Smalls"). For brevity’s sake, though, I often refer to "her" (I believe my car’s a girl) as "Nory" which is sort of derived from "Notorious" but really just reminds me of the beloved main character of Nicholson Baker’s The Everlasting Story of Nory, whose comic adventures remind me not to take Boston drivers so seriously.

Why am I telling you all this? Because while my B.U.G. may have a superior name, it has indeed been bested. By whom? THE ERIC CARLE MUSEUM OF PICTURE BOOK ART!! They’ve got their own Bug for museum outreach purposes, and it looks like this:

How great is that?? Oh, for a car that looked this fun! (Or at least for a car with a left front hubcab that does not fly off at the mere sight of a pothole….)

The Bug-related info. on the Eric Carle Museum’s Web site says: "The next time you Spot the Bug, send an email noting the date, time, and location… to receive a free Family Pass to the Museum and the chance to win other great bug prizes."

I think this is a great idea, but I do admit to being shocked that a museum concerned with the education of young children is actually encouraging violence. YES, encouraging violence!! I say this, because as the driver of a Bug I can tell you that kids haul back and punch one another when they see me driving by or stopping at a light behind the family wagon (more often an SUV these days). I have watched countless children’s mouths form the words "Punchbug silver!" a half second before someone in their posse gets walloped. Yes, it is a sad (but rather entertaining) fact that we Bug drivers are the cause of many a bruised sibling.

I don’t know if the museum Bug bears a moniker other than "the Bug" but it’s easy to see why they wouldn’t have wanted to dub it "The Very Clumsy Click Beetle" or pattern it in that fashion. My last car (before Nory) was called Nancy, after Nancy Drew and Nanci Griffith (whose music played often on my car stereo during my college days). What about you? Does your car have a name? (And if so, do you know what that says about you…?)

Gareth and I recently had a conversation about the first books we memorized and could recite in full, believing ourselves to be actually "READING." His was Clifford the Big Red Dog by Norman Bridwell. Mine was One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss.

Wondering if I could find entertaining evidence of contemporary kids confused on the same "memorizing vs. reading" point, I turned to… (where else?) YouTube. I didn’t find exactly what I was looking for but nevertheless unearthed a few relevant "faux reading" gems.

For starters, there’s a pretty fascinating, completely charming video of a 15 month-old "READING" One Morning in Maine, using no actual words — or at least, no words in the language of grown-ups. But boy does she get the cadence of speech right!

Six year-old Sasha does a pretty convincing act of reading one of the Rainbow Fairies books, but if you try to follow the story you’ll find she’s clearly making it up as she goes along.

A non-fiction book about trees gets pretty exciting in Susie’s "reading" of it. Trees with wings? Who knew.

What about you? What book did you believe you could "READ" before you could actually do so? Do tell.

Last Thursday "Morning Edition" did a great feature on what a script supervisor does on a movie set. The piece was interesting, insightful, and gave me a solid introduction to a profession about which I’d previously known nothing. The story got me thinking about the many jobs in the book industry about which I know the same (nothing) or at least very little. Heck, I have a career that I didn’t even know existed until I stumbled into it!

Knowing that I’m not the only one who could benefit from a larger book world education, I’m launching a recurring feature on this blog, in which people explain what it is that they actually DO. My hope is that these explanations will be enlightening for those of us who don’t have these jobs but also interesting for those who do — perhaps you’ll find that you’re in the same role but have completely different responsibilities or that you enjoy your work for very different reasons..If so, please share those observations with the rest of us by commenting on that particular post.

And now… On to this week’s feature!

In our first Occupation Explanation Cathryn McHugh, Managing Editor at Candlewick Press, reveals just what the HECK a Managing Editor actually does, or at least what a Managing Editor does at Candlewick. Cat’s first word was "hooligan" (how great is that?), she’s the mother of the world’s most mellow baby (Cian), and she’ll soon be a resident of California. (She, Cian, and her husband Josh are moving to Los Angeles in April.) Here’s what Cat has to say:

My job title is Managing Editor… and as I’ve been with the same company since I left university 9 years ago, I don’t know if this job title has the same responsibilities elsewhere, or if my job is unique…

I love working with so many different people on a daily basis, and despite not being creatively inclined, being able to feel that I have had a hand in the publication of some truly fantastic books.

Do you have a title no one can remember, or perform tasks you feel that no one truly understands? Do you want a chance to explain why you enjoy the job you have, be it in a publishing house, in a library, or in some book-related place most of us know nothing about? If so, send me an e-mail (shelftalkerATgmailDOTcom), explaining what your title is, what it is that you actually DO, and what you do (or don’t) like about your current position. Please also tell me whether or not I can use your name and your employer’s name in my post. I can’t promise to use everyone’s submissions, but I can promise to read them at least! One more thing: remember that these are Occupation Explanations, not Occupation Obfuscations, so try not to use too many "industry terms" that might completely baffle outsiders.

She’s been the star of merchandise galore and featured on a U.S. postage stamp, but did you know Olivia, porcine wonder, also stars on a line of FABRIC? It’s true! I was recently very entertained to stumble upon four different Olivia fabric collections that are available at Repro Depot.

I believe my favorite might be this one, on which the text reads "Exercising is good. Accessorizing is better." (I’m sure Fancy Nancy would agree.)

Although, this print with the repeated phrase "worn out" would make very appropriate pillow cases:

And surely anyone with the name Olivia should have a garment made out of this:

The other day at the gym I suddenly realized I was staring right at the subject of a new ShelfTalker post. No, it wasn’t Spandex that caught my eye (though I’ve love to try to find a way to work in THAT theme!). It was my water bottle.

My take-to-the-gym water bottle happens to be one that I purchased a few years ago at Powell’s, the venerable independent bookselling institution headquartered in Portland, Ore. Powell’s sells several different water bottles (mystery, outdoor lit, modern art, mathematics, philosophy, literature), but the one I own (go figure) is the kids’ bottle, which holds 16 ounces of liquid, making it half the size of the others.

Below is a photo of  my Powell’s bottle on a (shamefully dusty… how embarrassing) bookshelf. It looks like a typical 16 oz. Nalgene bottle, no?

No indeed! This is not a typical Nalgene bottle. If you read the fine print on the front side, you see that the details look like this:

In case you can’t comfortably read those details, I’ve reprinted them for you here:

Suggested Serving Sizes:
KID’S LIT

Serving Size: 15 pages
Servings Per Bottle: About 4

Suggested Daily Reading *
Excitement   34%
Fun   23%
Magic   26%
Suspense   17%

*Serving sizes are based on a 60 page per week diet

The fluid ounce markings on the back of the bottle, though, are what I think REALLY sets this one apart.  Beside each of the fluid ounce markings is the name of an author whose books are typically read by kids at the age corresponding with that number:

Again, in case it’s too small to read on your monitor, the printing looks like this (from the bottom to the top):
At the 4 ounce mark = Seuss
At the 6 ounce mark = Sendak
At the 8 ounce mark = Lobel
At the 10 ounce mark = Pilkey
At the 12 ounce mark = Cleary
At the 14 ounce mark = L’Engle
At the 16 ounce mark = Hinton

I’m assuming "Lobel" refers to Arnold, but who says Anita can’t take the credit? I could quibble a bit over the idea that 12 year-olds are reading Beverly Cleary, but why bother? Cleary grew up in Portland, so I certainly don’t question the need to have her name *somewhere* on this vessel. Besides that, does anyone ever really outgrow Ramona Quimby?

Still, every time I look at that bottle I try to figure out who I’d put beside each of those volume markings, were I in charge of a similar bottle’s creation. It’s pretty hard to whittle down the list of potential names to just one per age level! Who would make it onto YOUR bottle list?

When I packed books to read on my trip to East Tennessee last December, I included a copy of Jen Bryant’s new novel in poems, Ringside 1925 (Knopf, Feb. 2008), without thinking about its setting. I cared only about two things: 1) the fact that I loved Jen’s first two novels, and 2) the fact that this book was about the Scopes trial, on which I was due for a refresher course. To this short list of reasons, I should have added the fact that I’d be traveling in the same general region in which the Scopes trial took place. Unfortunately our trip was too short for me to tack a three-hour drive to Dayton onto our brief stay in Johnson City, but after finishing and loving Jen’s novel, I was especially sorry I hadn’t been able to.

Written in prose poems, Ringside 1925 is narrated by several characters, some of them permanent Dayton residents and some visitors who have come to town for the trial that’s attracting national attention. Each member of the story’s ensemble cast speaks in a distinct voice, representing a range of ages, classes, and races, each person having a different tie to the case and a different opinion about how it’s unfolding. As is the case in Karen Hesse’s wonderful novel Witness, the advantage here is that the reader is able to view the same story from several different angles. In less capable hands this might make for cumbersome storytelling, but Bryant keeps the plot moving and keeps the story from becoming overly complicated by its conflicting points of view.

In the end Ringside 1925 reads like the portrait of a small town that’s been caught up, however briefly, in the tide of some BIG questions — questions that are still surfacing and resurfacing today more than 80 years later. In the notes at the end of the book Bryant urges readers wanting to know more about the Scopes trial story to visit the town of Dayton, Tenn. (as she did during her research), and see the places that helped her conjure up visions of Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan holding court.

Reading this book in Dayton would have been an extra special treat, as I love reading historical fiction or non-fiction in the place where it all happened, feeling that sense that important history was made on the very spot where you are standing, that you’re seeing the same general horizon line some prominent person once gazed upon. I thought of this "it happened here" feeling the day after Christmas, when Gareth and I stopped in New Hampshire to have lunch with my former landlord and dear friend Larry Howard. Larry’s a 76-year-old landscape painter and devoted history buff. During our visit Larry shared a gem of a story with us about a trip he’d taken to Canada with two friends, on a quest to find an obscure but significant site all of them had read about in the same historical novel. With Larry behind the wheel and his friends navigating, the three of them drove and drove, finding nothing and growing almost hopelessly lost. Finally Larry suggested that he be allowed to look at the map his friends were using, only to learn that they weren’t using a map at all — they were navigating using the historical map and references in the novel!! Larry was flabbergasted. His friends were cowed. Eventually, though, the three found the place they’d been looking for, making it a bit easier to forget that times change, geographies change, and novels contain fiction.

In doing research for my own book I was ridiculously entertained by the discovery of a seafaring map from the 1750’s that had been reprinted in a 20th-century book and labeled with the words "Not to be used for navigation." WHO, I wondered, would be so stupid as to try such a thing?? Now I know the answer!

Thankfully, you don’t have to read Ringside 1925 while in Dayton, Tenn., to enjoy it. But if you decide to make the trip south to do so, I’d recommend picking up/printing out a map before you go.

I’ll admit it. When I saw this t-shirt design, I laughed out loud!

Click on the image to find out how to purchase your very own shirt sporting this win-them-over slogan. (And, no, I don’t know whether or not any royalties from the sale of this shirt actually go to Nicholas Sparks.)