For the following delightful ode to this most busy week, we thank Janet
Potter, events and promotions coordinator at the Brookline and
Wellesley Booksmiths in Massachusetts:
'Tis the week before Christmas
And all through the store,
All booksellers were stirring,
Cause that's what they're for!
The books are all nestled all snug on their shelves,
Waiting to be plucked by gift-giving elves,
While we walk around in our sneakers and hoodies,
Telling you which ones are yawnfests and which ones are goodies.
With five more nights of Hanukkah and one week 'til Christmas,
We're experiencing maximum shopping listness.
We're stocking you up with novelists and bards,
Mugs, jewelry, dreidels, and cards!
When what to our wondering eyes should appear
But an apathetic customer who hasn't read in years!
"What's the point of books?" he asked like a goon,
"If there was a point I could buy them on iTunes."
We booksellers responded, so lively and quick,
"The books that we love are what make us tick!
Read some of our favorites and you won't be the same"
And we whistled and shouted and called them by name!
"Read Steinbeck, read Amis, Satrapi, and Pynchon!
Sedaris, Obama, Pamuk, and Didion!
Down the aisle of fiction, on the art book wall,
We've read them, we love them, we recommend all!"
"The prose how it twinkles, magic realism how merry,
The poetry like roses, the sci-fi so scary!
For forty-five years we've sold books, and how!
It's what we're here for, and we won't stop now!"
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the aisles,
And his stack of books grew by piles and piles.
We stuffed them with our bookmarks, and he waved goodbye to us,
Then turned right on Harvard and got on the 66 bus.
But I heard him exclaim a parting creed:
"Literary fiction for all! And to all a good read!"
'Tis the week before Christmas
And all through the store,
All booksellers were stirring,
Cause that's what they're for!
The books are all nestled all snug on their shelves,
Waiting to be plucked by gift-giving elves,
While we walk around in our sneakers and hoodies,
Telling you which ones are yawnfests and which ones are goodies.
With five more nights of Hanukkah and one week 'til Christmas,
We're experiencing maximum shopping listness.
We're stocking you up with novelists and bards,
Mugs, jewelry, dreidels, and cards!
When what to our wondering eyes should appear
But an apathetic customer who hasn't read in years!
"What's the point of books?" he asked like a goon,
"If there was a point I could buy them on iTunes."
We booksellers responded, so lively and quick,
"The books that we love are what make us tick!
Read some of our favorites and you won't be the same"
And we whistled and shouted and called them by name!
"Read Steinbeck, read Amis, Satrapi, and Pynchon!
Sedaris, Obama, Pamuk, and Didion!
Down the aisle of fiction, on the art book wall,
We've read them, we love them, we recommend all!"
"The prose how it twinkles, magic realism how merry,
The poetry like roses, the sci-fi so scary!
For forty-five years we've sold books, and how!
It's what we're here for, and we won't stop now!"
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the aisles,
And his stack of books grew by piles and piles.
We stuffed them with our bookmarks, and he waved goodbye to us,
Then turned right on Harvard and got on the 66 bus.
But I heard him exclaim a parting creed:
"Literary fiction for all! And to all a good read!"