An archive of past books featured at one point or another on our Urchin Bookshelf.
Geo’s past reads
Rising Up and Rising Down: Some Thoughts on Violence, Freedom, and Urgent Means by William T. Vollmann
More specifically, the abridged, seven-hundred page version of Rising Up and Rising Down. Let me tell you a little bit about Mr. Vollmann and his collection of ’some’ of his thoughts. The original, unabridged edition of Rising Up and Rising Down is a seven-volume literary juggernaut with a page length totaling about 3,500. Vollmann spent 23 years of his life on the project. As of November 2009, he is 50 years old. In an ideal world, there wouldn’t be such a thing as factory farming and I’d own the seven-volume original edition, but that thing is expensive and Urchins play it cheap. I can only hope to happen upon the complete set collecting dust in a used book store.
Mirrors: Stories of Almost Everyone by Eduardo Galeano
In case it isn’t yet obvious, I am most intrigued by ambitious projects. According to its dust jacket, Mirrors is a book ‘taking in 5,000 years of history, recalling the lives of artists and writers, gods and visionaries from the Garden of Eden to twenty-first-century New York and Mumbai, and told in hundreds of kaleidoscopic vignettes.’ Señor Galeano, you had me at ‘5,000 years.’ Check out my review in the January Diesel newsletter!
Moby-Dick or, The Whale by Herman Melville
One of the blessings/curses of working in a bookshoppe is that I find something I want to read almost everyday. And last week, despite my ridiculously high stack of unread material, I felt the sudden urge to read Moby-Dick. I don’t suppose that happens often. So last Sunday, on my day off, I woke up early and headed down to library, only to find out the doors opened at 1pm on Sundays. I then figured I’d obtain a used copy, since the book would certainly be an investment given its length. If my memory served me correctly, the used bookshoppe near my house had a copy. My memory did not serve me correctly. This was supposed to be easy. I came all this way and was still empty-handed. Eventually, I went back to library and grabbed a copy, but for a while there I felt like Ahab. Hey! I get it now.
Argall: The True Story of Pocahontas and Captain John Smith by William T. Vollmann
While at the library searching for that great whale of a book, I happened upon William T. Vollmann’s section, whose books – I kid you not – took up an entire shelf. Argall, published in 2001 and totaling 736 pages (written entirely in 17th-century prose), is part of a series called Seven Dreams: A Book of North American Landscapes, which consists of seven thematically-linked books, each focusing on a different historical expedition in the settlement of North America by European explorers. And if it wasn’t clear – or you still remain incredulous – every book is written by Vollmann. Seeing his books on the shelf, the physical evidence of writers bringing their visions into fruition, is the reason why Vollmann remains an Urchinspiration.
Working: People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do by Studs Terkel
The description is pretty much all in the subtitle. Studs Terkel, one of the most important historians of his generation and possessor of one of the weirdest names ever, utilises oral history to string together a series of interviews from people all over America, workers of all kinds of different jobs. You’ll hear from the farmer to the hooker to the receptionist to the factory owner. From the lower class to the upper class. Everyone gets a voice in this book from 1974, which is something that happens less and less as time moves on.
The Arcades Project by Walter Benjamin
German philosopher never finished The Arcades Project, having chosen to commit suicide whilst fleeing the Nazis in 1940. After a difficult editing job by a handful of different minds, a fragmentary edition of The Arcades Project is what survives. Still, in its incomplete form, The Arcades Project is a fascinating exploration of Parisian city life, revolving around what Benjamin believed acted as the hubs of the city: the Paris arcades.
Dreamers of a New Day: Women Who Invented the Twentieth Century by Sheila Rowbotham
Renowned feminist historian Sheila Rowbotham devotes this book to British and American women who’ve played important yet overlooked roles ‘amid the growth of globalised trade, mass production, immigration and urban slums that dominated the period from the 1880s to the onset of the First World War.’
I Hotel by Karen Tei Yamashita
I normally don’t read contemporary fiction (yuck!) but I’m taking a chance on this one. Revolving around San Francisco’s Chinatown in the 1960s, Yamashita’s ambitious novel weaves the stories of students, labourers, artists, revolutionaries, and provocateurs into a tale of civil and class struggles, violence, politics, and change.
The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs
Because of NaNoWriMo, I won’t get to read all that much in November, but whenever I have the chance, I’ll be searching for information and inspiration in this seminal work by influential Canadian urban theorist Jane Jacobs. Here she takes us on strolls of the sidewalks and deep into the pulsing heart of the American city, from the building to the housing to the populace to the money.
The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey
Because I’ve always wanted to know how to sabotage a dam. Kidding! Hah. Environmental activist Edward Abbey also wrote some fiction during his day, and this novel is his most well-known. In fact, this was where we got the term ‘monkeywrench’, now widely used to describe an act of sabotaging or damaging a machine for the purpose of environmental preservation. Check out this particularly cool edition featuring illustrations from artist R. Crumb!
Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan
Here’s a riddle: Francoise Sagan is cute little Frenchwoman who published Bonjour Tristesse when she was eighteen. Do we hate her or do we love her? Do we engage in throes of jealousy or do we celebrate her success? I had to find out, so I read it and… Break out the glitter confetti! This short novel is maturely written despite her age. Very subtle and nuanced, with characters and a plot that is gradual and maddening. Sagan’s handle on her writing seems effortless, as if she only happens to stumble upon deep themes when constructing a simple story of characters. She is like a less witty, more serious, but equally thoughtful French female Oscar Wilde (whom she of course references in the book!).
Punching Out: One Year in a Closing Auto Plant by Paul Clemens
Jon Stewart told me about this book. (Yes, personally.) Actually, he just told me to watch his interview with the author of the book, Paul Clemens. Upon first viewing the interview, I could’ve sworn a reference was made to Studs Terkel, author of the book that changed my life last year, Working. After watching it again, I realised that I had just imagined the reference, most likely because of the similarities in the premises of the two books. Like Working, Clemens spends time with workers, especially those who aren’t used to telling their story. In covering a year in a closing auto plant in Detroit, Clemens discovers that ‘taking apart industry is sort of its own industry’ and that ‘the same sort of muscle memory that used to be going into making things can now be applied… to take apart the equipment used to make the cars.’ Clemens goes on to tell Stewart: ‘This book doesn’t really have a thesis because I don’t really have an answer. I wish it had a thesis. When I finished it, my editor said, You know, this is kind of a weird book.’ Those interesting dichotomies, along with the author’s humility that I can’t help but find refreshing and adorable, make me want to read this book.
How’s this for a story: An adult little person writing his life story from inside a mental hospital in Germany, from his grandparents to his mama meeting the two men, one of whom is his real father, to his own birth to his third birthday where he gets his very first tin drum and decides then and there that he will never grow up – and he doesn’t – to the first World War and on to the next to his time with the circus and the time he got his very first love pregnant and how she stopped loving him shortly thereafter. Wild story, great story.
Green Is the New Red by Will Potter
An up-to-date crash-course overview of the history of radical environmentalism as well as a study on the scare tactics that the government, the CIA, and several multi-million dollar corporations use against environmental activists, which share certain similarities with tactics used during McCarthyism and the Red Scare. This book is about the Green Scare – this book is at times scary, at times hopeful, and at all times important.
Europe Central by William T. Vollmann
It’s that time again. That time where I put a book by William T. Vollmann on the Urchin Bookshelf and never finish it. Vollmann is easily one of the most interesting and thought-provoking writers today, and I have loved a lot of his books, but I have put down a few of them as well. It isn’t that they fail to hold my attention – far from it. Quite simply, you gotta be ready to take on a Vollmann book. He’s not the writer you can read during commercials – believe me, I’ve tried. His work requires your patience and your full attention. But believe me: if you get through it, it’s absolutely worth it.
Rebel Bookseller: Why Indie Bookstores Represent Everything You Want to Fight For, From Free Speech to Buying Local to Building Communities by Andrew Laties
Andrew Laties founded and co-founded three independent bookstores and, somewhere along the way, wrote the first edition of Rebel Bookseller. Six years after its publication, Laties released an updated second edition on a topic that has increasingly become more important to my life and, in my opinion, life in general. The title and subtitle on their own get my heart pumping. Fun fact: Greenlight Bookstore’s two co-proprietors (also known as my bosses) are featured prominently in the second edition! Perhaps I’ll be in the third.
Margaret’s past reads
The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Originally, I bought The Idiot so I’d look smart. But I do that anyway. Until now, my only experience with 19th Century Russian literature has been entirely with Chekhov, so The Idiot is a bit of a 700-page commitment into an incredibly foreign psyche. The story of a virtuously perfect human thrust into an imperfect (and to our reasoning, completely normal) society, Dostoyevsky begs the questions: ‘Is a completely, 100% virtuous person, in fact be virtuous at all?’ and ‘Does human society allow for virtue at all?’
The Science of Good and Evil: Why People Cheat, Gossip, Care, Share, and Follow the Golden Rule by Michael Shermer
Michael Shermer, founder of the Skeptics Society, examines the scientific proof for fate, free will, the existence of good, evil, and why humans attempt to follow a moral code. I grabbed a copy of The Science of Good and Evil for research for a future script, but with chapter names like ‘The Devil Under Form of Baboon’ and ‘Can We Be Good Without God?,’ I’m now interested to read a Ph.D. skeptic’s take on predominantly religious issues. Also, check out Shermer on this Mr. Deity episode.
Candide ou l’Optisime by Voltaire
Many months ago I made the mistake of going to the Collected Works Bookstore in Santa Fe. After drinking an excessive amount of coffee in the cafe, I left several hours later with a few pounds (Get it? Get it? This pun would totally work in London…) worth of new books. Now, in my new flat, with the turntable spinning Bossa Nova and Joni Mitchell albums, I can finally sit back in my overstuffed arm-chair and read Candide. A classic of satire, Voltaire mocks everything from religion and politics to our conceptions of romance. It was quickly banned for its blasphemous content and political dissent. Despite The Man trying to keep Voltaire down, the novel eventually became the most taught work in French literature. Who doesn’t aspire to that?
Don’t tell Geo, but Dubliners has been sitting on my shelf, alone, unread, for nearly a year. For having such an obsession with Ireland, I have clearly waited far too long to read Joyce. And you’d at least think watching Urchin-favourite Ewan McGregor play Joyce would’ve sped things up a bit, as well. His first publication, in 1914, Dubliners depicts middle-class, Catholic Dublin through a series of 15 short stories, or chapters. As positively depressing as this sounds, my copy’s insert asserts ‘the artistic boundary is set only by Joyce’s far-reaching genius.’ Well, duh.
The Long-Legged House by Wendell Berry
Berry’s first collection of essays, The Long-Legged House depicts impoverished East Kentucky through the lens of environmental/sociological ethics and morality. He goes on to explore the meaning of “belonging” to a certain place. Also a poet and fiction writer, Berry’s non-fictional work centers upon many all-important Urchin issues: environmental preservation, success at what cost, and the “good life.”
Citizens of London: The Americans Who Stood with Britain in Its Darkest, Finest Hour by Lynne Olsen
One night, driving through a dark and snowy canyon, I was able to catch a bit of NPR before losing the signal to the mountains. On air was an interview with Ms. Olsen on her latest book, Citizens of London. When the United States stood safely across the Atlantic and watched the conflict in Europe, three Americans, Edward R. Murrow, Averell Harriman, and ambassador John Gilbert Winant lived in shell-shocked London, struggling to bring American support to the side of the British. Though it was finally the bombing of Pearl Harbor that would send American troops abroad, these three men are an interesting case study of the beginnings of our “special relationship.”
The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov
Oh, Chekhov, you and your plays full of miserable Russians who talk of everything and accomplish nothing for four long acts. Only a true literary genius could create the most painfully real characters, rife with the torments of life, stick them in a room, write a play where nothing happens, and wind up with a masterpiece. The Cherry Orchard was originally intended as a comedy, but Constantin Stanislavski insisted on directing it as a tragedy.
Day Out of Days by Sam Shepard
Actor, writer, director, Sam Shepard has brought us characters as lonely and distant as the Western world they live in since the sixties. Day Out of Days is his latest collection of short stories, poems, and dialogues. Though many reviews claim the collection is too dark and dreary for extended reading, I am very much looking forward to anything by Sam Shepard. Just don’t be surprised to find me in a small Western town dreaming of something lost someday.
Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv
I grew up identifying poop in the woods, and I feel sorry for anyone who didn’t. I take it personally when I meet people who’ve never been camping. Or at the very least, hiking. Unfortunately, this seems to be more and more common. Richard Louv coined the term ‘nature deficit disorder’ in his 2008 book that went on to inspire the Leave No Child Inside movement. Louv details how this disconnect with nature leads to many child developmental problems we see in society today.
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
It’s time for the truth to come out. I’m not ashamed to admit it (and I’m totally not blushing right now). I’ve never read Charles Dickens. Any. At all. Not even David Copperfield. I did see The Muppet Christmas Carol, though. Does that count? Great Expectations was originally published as a weekly series in All the Year Round. When an orphan boy, Pip, is sent to stay with the lovelorn Miss Havisham, he grows away from his family and common place roots and goes on to lust for a life in high society, but when he moves to London to become a gentleman, things aren’t quite as he expected. Oh, I can’t wait to start making analogies!
Sure, I’ve seen the movie many times: spectacular cinematography, an eternally moving score (actually played by Holly Hunter), blah, blah blah. The script is where it all starts. Jane Campion’s tale of a mute mail-order bride who can only speak her heart through the piano is a fascinating character study. It isn’t her new husband, Alistair, who would rather see her subdued and voiceless without the piano, that succeeds in awakening long repressed emotions, but Baines, who essentially strikes a bargain with her: the piano for sex. Through her relationship with Baines and her disintegrating one with Alistair, Ada loses the use of her voice, the piano, but succeeds in breaking mentally and physically away from the 19th Century societal restrictions she was born into.
What Are People For? by Wendell Berry
I’ll admit it. I bought this book for its title. But Mr. Berry quickly became one of my favourite thinkers after I read The Long Legged House, another collection of essays, last summer. Approaching the topics of both art and farming, Mr. Berry discusses the divide between work and pleasure in American culture. What I think are becoming very contemporary issues regarding our societal health are in fact problems Mr. Berry has been highlighting for the last fifty years.
I have a reading list. A two-year long reading list, in fact, and Jane Eyre has been waiting patiently near the bottom for, oh, two years now. A classic in feminist literature, Charlotte Bronte’s novel appears to be on the surface a standard Victorian work; our protagonist however, is anything but. When Jane falls in love with the arrogant (and sexy) Rochester, she seeks an equal standing in marriage and life, demanding quite a bit from him for the time. So, why did this book suddenly appear at the top of my list? Hollywood. A new film starring Mia Wasikowska, Michael Fassbender and Judi Dench (released 11 March) looks phenomenal and I clearly can’t justify seeing the film without reading the book!
Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes by Robert Louis Stevenson
Not gonna lie. I initially picked this book because of its title. And to my discovery, Stevenson was very much an early Urchin himself! To raise money for adventures, he decided to go on an adventure… with a donkey. Who doesn’t love this guy? Travels with a Donkey details his 12o mile journey through France (yay!) with Modestine, his four-legged heehawing friend.
The Great Plains by Ian Frazier
“Away to the Great Plains of America, to that immense Western short-grass prairie now mostly plowed under! Away to the still-empty land beyond newsstands and malls and velvet restaurant ropes!” The first two sentences of Frazier’s classic travelogue immediately sent me scurrying to the library. How could I not? I’ve always been enthralled by the romance of the West and continually perplexed with how the sometimes ugly, dirty, and ignorant clash of reality can simultaneously destroy that romantic vision and build it up at the same time. Frazier recounts his time spent living in Montana and driving across the Great Plains interjected with pieces of history.
Places, Strange and Quiet by Wim Wenders
Back in April, I wrote about places to be and things to see in 2011. Among my top picks was Wim Wenders’ exhibition at the Haunch of Venison in London. Now, for those of us who couldn’t make it, Wenders’ photographs from the exhibition (and his entire career) are available in book! If ever you sought for a definition of ‘wanderlust,’ you need look no further than Wim Wenders. Known for films Paris, Texas and Wings of Desire, Wenders also has an equally impressive photo portfolio. His images, shot around the world, invoke such a sense of loneliness and longing in their simplicity. I can’t wait to get a hold his new book!
Sarah’s past reads
Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson
Sometimes when Notes from a Small Island and I are alone in the flat, we curl up with a nice big cuppa, some digestives, and have a snog. That is, of course, if Jeremy Kyle isn’t on. Okay, not really. But Bryson’s hilarious accounts from his time living in England do give me a warm, cozy feeling hitherto only associated with mornings spent watching In the Night Garden with Geo. This book is a steaming cup of nostalgia, and I recommended pairing it with some biscuits.
History Lessons: How Textbooks from Around the World Portray U.S. History by Dana Lindaman and Kyle Ward
I used to dream about traveling the world and sitting in on U.S. history classes in every city I visited to see if I could discern that elusive thing between what ‘we’ say and ‘they’ say called the truth. Now, thanks to Dana Lindaman and Kyle Ward, I can save my travel pennies for exotic chocolates and continue my fact-finding mission from the comfort of my couch and pajamas! Also, this book was a remainder. So I bought it. Urchins can never pass up a bargain. Or a book. It was destiny.
I spent my entire first New England winter thinking about rereading Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome, but I only felt it was safe once there was more than 7 hours of sunlight a day. Boy, is this book depressing. However, despite being a total downer, the story is compelling and really captures the destitution and isolation of harsh northeastern winters. I would know.
St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves by Karen Russell
I have heard nothing but rave reviews for this collection of short stories, so I decided to give it a try. I started reading the first story before bed the other night, but Russell had crafted such an eerie ambiance that I was forced to hide the book in the living room, only to be revisited in the light of day. Once I gather the courage to let this book out from under the couch cushion, I have a feeling I’m really going to enjoy it. Also, the fact that this book was written when the author was 24 makes her a shoo in Urchinspiration.
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson
This book is a hilarious memoir recounting Bryson’s childhood in Des Moines, Iowa in the 1950s. Interspersed with his personal memories and exquisitely nostalgic depictions of growing up in a more innocent time are very serious accounts of what was happening around the world while he was busy reading comic books and working his paper route. From the ‘American dream’ to nuclear weapons to the Red Scare, this book offers a fascinating glimpse into the psyche of small town America while the world grew around them.
A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
Paris in the 1920s was the creative playground of choice for writers and artists from around the world. In this memoir, Hemingway poetically relates his time living and writing there amongst the likes of Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ezra Pound, and James Joyce. This book is an essential “how-to” guide for any Urchin, and, in fact, one of the things that inspired us to begin the Movement in the first place.
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Whenever I long for London and good writing, I turn to Woolf’s lovely novel, which never fails to restore my faith in the world, even if it’s just for the time the book’s well-loved pages are held in my hands. Good writing does exist, and so does London. What more could I want?
At Home: A Short History of Private Life by Bill Bryson
Though Bryson’s latest book won’t be in your local independent bookstore until October, I happen to have the privilege of knowing a little fairy of joy at such a bookstore and will be getting my eager little paws on At Home much sooner! After exploring, well, pretty much everything in A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bryson now turns to his personal abode in England to examine the histories of the everyday objects that surround him. I wait with bated breath.
Little Book of Letterpress by Charlotte Rivers
I am slowly but surely developing an all-consuming obsession with letterpress. I love everything about it: the tactility of the indented type, the artistic manipulation of the written word, the return to a time-tested art form. When I happened upon this happy little yellow book at library last weekend, I knew it had to come home with me. After a brief history of and commentary on letterpress, the book is filled with a dreamy portfolio of modern letterpress images, complete with a directory of the featured presses’ websites. This book is beautiful and inspiring. Let’s just say I’ve already googled ‘at home letterpress.’
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Yes, it’s winter again in good old Vermont. This morning I awoke to a snowy/sleety wonderland of ice-caked windshields and undrivable roads. So when I began to ponder what book I’d like to read next, my first thought was naturally something that would reflect the milieu of the Vermont winter ahead of me: As I Lay Dying. Any longtime readers may remember that it was around this time last year that I picked up Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton. Something about a Vermont winter just makes me want to read the most unfathomably depressing novel I can get my hands on. Can’t wait!
Grounded: A Down to Earth Journey Around the World by Seth Stevenson
After years caught up in Manhattan’s rat race, author Seth and his girlfriend Rebecca quit their jobs and meander across America, eventually ending up in Alaska. When money runs out, they’re forced to re-enter the ‘real world,’ this time in Washington, D.C. It doesn’t take long, however, for their inherent desire to roam to resurface. After years living as zombies placated by tv, the internet, and other ‘comforts’ of modern life, Seth and Rebecca experience a rude awakening when all conversations with friends suddenly revolve around real estate or babies. Selling everything they own save what will fit in two tiny backpacks, they set off to traverse the world solely via ground transport. Not wanting to ‘press fast forward’ on their journey by hopping plans from place to place, they hope to experience everything along the way while markedly reducing their carbon footprint. I see this book as research, and I can’t wait.
Educating Alice: Adventures of a Curious Woman by Alice Steinbach
Oh, look. Another book about travel. I sense a theme here. Steinbach quits her job at the Baltimore Sun to study everything, everywhere. From cooking classes in Paris to writing in Prague, Steinbach seeks to satiate her eternal curiosity and live a life of constant learning, writing, and traveling. Could that sound any more dreamy? I’ve recently added an adventure requirement to any current and future travel plans, and I’m hoping Alice has some good ideas and tips.
Sharks in the Rivers by Ada Limón
What better way to kick off National Poetry Month than with my favourite modern American poet’s new book? I first fell in love with Ada Limon after reading her poem Crush in The New Yorker and have been anxiously awaiting the release of her third book of poetry ever since. Sharks in the Rivers is a collection of beautiful and poignant poems strewn with imagery and themes of rivers and water. Limon has a transcendent way with words. I would highly recommend this collection to poetry novices and enthusiasts alike.
The rest of this book’s title reads ‘The Adventures of a Guilty Liberal Who Attempts to Save the Planet, and the Discoveries He Makes About Himself and Our Way of Life in the Process.’ When Beavan decided his paltry environmentally-friendly efforts were no longer enough, he embarked on a year-long commitment to make as little an environmental impact as possible. This included finding alternatives to toilet paper, electricity, and motorised transportation. This lifestyle of complete ethical immersion sounds infinitely appealing, and I’m hoping to discover applicable tips and ideas from Beavan’s experiences. I have this book on loan from my coworker Krysta, who is about to start a year-long ‘no trash’ diet, meaning she will buy only in bulk using her own containers and produce no food waste (from packing, throwing away food scraps, etc.) Go, Krysta!
How to Get Lost & Found in New Zealand by John W. McDermott
I found this 1976 gem growing old on the shelves of a used book store last week. Part memoir, part travel guide, the book actually now reads more like a history, as so much has changed in New Zealand and the world over the past 35 years. If you can look past the not-so-subtle sexism (‘If you are travelling with a lady who won’t leave the house without her electric haircurlers, the bane of any male traveller…’), McDermott provides both a history of New Zealand and some interesting insights about the country. But mostly it’s a fascinating look at how much travel, New Zealand, and political correctness have changed since the ’70s.
A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson
This is likely this book’s third appearance on the Urchin Bookshelf. Though it is arguably Bryson’s most famous book, I have been putting off reading it because he has written about so much else I’m more pressingly interested in (England, Australia, Iowa in the ’50′s, language, history; quite the over-achiever, isn’t he?). But when I found A Walk in the Woods at a used book store, it felt wrong to just leave Bill on the shelf! Alone! So I brought him home. After living in England for 20 years, Bryson attempts to reacquaint himself with America by hiking the Appalachian trail. Both belly laughs and giggles surely await me.







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