To the Well-Organized Mind

Yes. That's Albus Dumbledore speaking on page 297 in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

"After all, to the well-organized mind,
death is but the next great adventure."

I've been trying to think of something to say about Joe Drabyak, my fellow bookseller who died just over two weeks ago. All of us in the bookselling community and especially at Chester County Book & Music Company are shocked and saddened by his death. Joe was a staunch supporter of independent bookstores, and of new authors who had slipped between the cracks and were left behind by the big chains. Joe was the only bookseller I knew who had at least a dozen characters in books named for him. You can read more eloquent obituaries here and here and especially this touching one from Michelle of Michelle's Minions.

I wanted to say something here, but I didn't know what to say. But then I thought of Dumbledore.

It's not such a stretch. Joe was a wizard of a bookseller. And although he sold adult fiction and nonfiction and didn't know much about kids' books, Joe agreed to portray Dumbledore once for a midnight Harry Potter party. Unfortunately, I have no pics of that momentous occasion.

But you can see the resemblance, right?

Rest in peace, Joe. Hope you are having the next great adventure.

And that it involves lots of books.

The bookseller as counselor

Sometimes my job is awesome. I mean I get to read books (ARCs or Advanced Reader's Copies, but more commonly known as galleys) -- on my own time, of course. But then I get paid to tell customers how great these books are. How I couldn't put this one down. How I cried over the ending of this book. Or laughed out loud throughout this book. Or how this book didn't work for me. Or I couldn't get past chapter 2 of this book.

Let me repeat: I get paid for that.

Of course, I also have to shelve the books, straighten and alphabetize, pull books that aren't selling so they can be returned, clean up empty coffee cups and crushed Cheerios after the customers leave.

But then there are parts of the job that are more difficult. Like hairdressers and bartenders, we hear all the stories. People tell us details of their lives, their hopes, their dreams. We hear that someone's 2-year-old grandson is a genius who is already reading. We hear that a child is jealous of a new sibling, and is there a book for that? (yes, of course, several). We hear that a child is sick or has a broken leg or just lost a grandparent (or, worse, a parent) and is there a book for them? Always.

Today ranked right up there with the most difficult days. I just learned last night that my 19-year-old son's former classmate died suddenly over the weekend. And today, at work, his older sister came in with a neighbor to buy a guest book. For the funeral. The neighbor could barely bring herself to ask me, in a whisper, if we had something appropriate. Ahh. Of course we did and I found the guest books for her. But I'd rather not have to do things like this.

RIP, Matthew.