Just browsing?

My friend Jenny needed a hand at her second-hand bookstore this week, so I got to spend some time being a bookseller at The Book Junction in Claremont.

The last time I did this, I was a student working at a book retailer in our local mall. (Wrote a column about that time and the politics of political disinterest a while back.)

I used to work night shifts and weekends back then and it was quite a different experience with a leisurely browsing day crowd in a small centre, but I liked the slow ease of it and how everyone had a story to tell as they browsed.

One guy came in, eyes darting, looking for something on Haitian Vodou, one woman told me she’s psychic and can tell her husband will die from the elective op he underwent, one smelled like heavenly rose geranium, another had a three-year-old son who is already a voracious reader – I told her about libraries to spare her the cash she’ll need to slake his reading thirst – and another was appalled, just appalled, that I couldn’t buy her second-hand books since I wasn’t the owner of the store.

Me in the shop, the shop, the book I bought.

I played some Cesária Évora and did some admin for the upcoming release of Neko, organised some shelves, wondered how many people one could fit into a 4x3 space for bookish type events…

Of course, it’s easy playing at being a bookstore owner; the realities of this line of work are harder. There’s a reason indie bookstore owners are weirdos – you’ve got to be to put all your energy and love into this strange venture people desperately need but don’t understand they need.

Still, as a day-tripper, it was a pleasure being reminded about readers, especially the paperback readers – my tribe who like holding a book and smelling it and getting lost in it and plotting their way through it from front cover to back – and a pleasure watching them buy whole stacks of books or pore over the shelves trying to find the one that will speak to them.

I’ll use this opportunity to say that Tangled is the best Disney princess movie.

And it was a particular pleasure because of where I find myself now in the process of bringing Neko into the world to meet its first readers in the wild.

Writing a story is one thing, making the book of it, quite something else (although there is something to be said about the strange and unexpected interplay between typesetting and storytelling, something that is explored in the way Neko is written).

Which brings me to a bit of news: The Akashic Records of The Last People as Written by Neko is open for pre-order until Sunday night!

Usually all direct orders through me get a signed copy of the book, but this time – the first time I’m trying this – pre-orders will get something a little extra: free shipping AND… (drum roll please) …the origin dream of The Akashic Records of The Last People as Written by Neko. I’m going to scan it from my 2021 journal and pop it into a red envelope for you – but only read it after you’ve finished the book, okay? 

Copies are 160 ronds and all you have to do is just pop me an email so that I can send you the details. Pre-orders close on Sunday night.

Unfortunately, this is only available to readers in South Africa. Our postal system here is so shitty I wouldn’t risk it anymore. In fact, I’m still waiting for those Christmas cards to reach their destination.

So that’s it for now.

The Akashic Records of The Last People as Written by Neko launches on 27 March, so you’ll be getting a newsletter next week as well because I don't want to wait another three weeks before I write about something that has been a huge deal for me lately: perimenopause and the fucking fucking fuckity fuck fuckedupedness of the systems that have kept – and still keep – good healthcare off the table for women.

Seems that after all that Dorothy Black business there are still some things I'd like to say about women's sexual and reproductive health rights...

Love and fiery light internet friends,

t

---

Header photo by César Viteri on Unsplash