[Dean's World] Celia Farber: On Rudeness, Part 1 (The Detestable Strand Bookstore, NYC)

[notify at powerblogs.com]

Posted by Celia Farber:
On Rudeness, Part 1 (The Detestable Strand Bookstore, NYC)
http://www.deanesmay.com/posts/1196139147.shtml


   Nights like this, it seems there is no stitch left that would bind us
   to anything beautiful or hopeful.

   Rudeness is the only real plague. I am obsessed with rudeness and its
   opposite, its answer: Civility.

   Civility, the heavy silver, costs more. It is wasted, given, thrown
   down for the sake of the fleeting sparkle on the pavement as we pass.
   Its own currency, that can transform a slum to a castle.

   There are a few people left on earth that possess it; Another word for
   it is "class" and class has nothing to do with money or status.

   I was wearing a bright red sweater and a smile when I walked into the
   iconic Strand bookstore at 5:35 this evening to rid myself of 8 large
   bags of discarded books from my shelves. Some of them were good, and
   in good shape, and even recent, popular, etc. Some of them were
   rubbish, admittedly. But I was proud of the haul, felt it to be
   substantial and of good quality.

   "I have eight bags," I said cheerfully to the nearest Strand employee.
   Strand runs its business on USED BOOKS that people just like me
   schlepp down there, for a few shillings.

   A Strand employee barked at me: "You walk in here at 5:35 with eight
   bags of books..."

   I raised my hand like a traffic cop. "Stop. You are not going to abuse
   me for bringing books here, when this is what your business runs on,
   other people's books."

   I demanded to have dealings with anybody other than this rude man.

   I was referred to another man, behind the counter, and a third man
   started unpacking my books upon the counter. About ten minutes later,
   the man behind the counter, who had singled out about a third of the
   books as desirable, looked up and said: 'These are pretty low end
   books you have here M'aam."

   The blood rushed from my face to my feet, and I meekly said: "Ok."

   I stood there uncomfoirtably, not knowing where to put myself, until
   finally the conclusion. He cleared his throat: "These books here," he
   said, pointing to the chosen stack, "are worth $85 to us. These others
   have seen better days."

   "Fine," I said.

   "Go to the end of the counter and sing your name and he'll give you
   the money."

   I did.

   "Thank you," I said, and walked out with my crumpled plastic zippered
   bags.

   All the way home I felt numb, as though kicked in the shin and groin.
   Why was it necessary for him to insult me and my books like that?

   Why?

   Eventually, a chill came over me, and I started crying. I've been
   through much much worse, God knows, but the tiny knife cuts are the
   ones that fell us, sometimes. I started writing emails stating that I
   didn't think life was worth living and asking certain friends to
   please state their position on suicide. This happens some nights--when
   all the world seems rude, ugly, run amok with pig people. When nobody
   takes the extra two seconds to say something the nice way, the gentle
   way, the deftly gracious way.

   It drives a person mad.

   My father is a Southerner, and has spent a lifetime buiding these sand
   castles of decency--the right way to say things. The right flair, the
   extra cymbal crash, the reassuring twist. He reads every word of every
   fan letter he receives, and answers it. He sits and listens to every
   singing Christmas card and patiently waits for the snow, the bells,
   the lights, the snowman to start dancing...and he isn't even
   Christian, he is Jewish. Then he starts composing an reply about how
   nice the e-card was. He never simpy turns down an invitation to an
   event or party--even if he knows he can't make it. He hangs up, waits
   a decent interval, then calls the person back to stress that he really
   searched his schedule for a way to make it happen, but just couldn't.
   This way they walk away feeling intact or better. Nothing taken away.
   Their party was perfectly terrific--he just could not make it.

   In every communication, however short, he gives that little bit extra.
   Tries to remember a river or town in the part of Poland this person is
   from and exclaim its properties and even pronounce it right, so they
   feel valued.

   It's a monument to waste, a thing of rare beauty. I wish I had it all
   in one room, in one place, to walk all the way around it and see what
   all went into it.

   Why? How? What was America...before?

   We are fighting back, vigilante style.

   Vincent and I were in a restaurant one night and the waiter was rude
   bordering on violent. He snapped the menus on the table to indicate we
   had better order dessert right away or get out. He even said that
   people were waiting for the table.

   Vincent looked at me and said: "We're leaving."

   I nodded. We stood up, and we walked right out. Once we turned the
   corner, we started laughing. The life force came back to us.

   "We're not taking it anymore. It ends here, tonight," he said. I
   smiled and nodded. I wouldn't have cared if we went to jail that
   night. I think Henry David Thoreau would have approved.

   One day Vincent was walking in midtown and a woman pushed him. He is
   an athlete, and held his body still, while the perpetrator flew
   backwards, cursing him. "Somebody's gonna mace you!" she shouted.
   Because he kept his space and held his ground. Vincent grinned from
   ear to ear and shouted after her: "Oh yeah? You want to party? What
   are you doing tonight?"

   Six months later, that still makes me laugh.

   Be kind. Be precise in your language. Be decent. Be imaginative.
   Flairful. Generous.

   Tomorrow, we die.

   If people try to zap you, zap em right back.

   Do not under any circumstances peddle your books at The Strand
   bookstore because they are abnormal in there, and they don't deserve
   your books, or mine, and now I shall go an consult my book of Orisha
   curses to see which one might be fitting for this latest transgression
   against my God Given rights.