Books suck

Why are bookshops always going out of business? Don't worry. This is going to be the short version. Because books suck. You're waiting for us to qualify that statement, but we mean it. Like the fat tick under the puppy's ear. Books suck.

They're parasitic. They inspire fierce protective instincts in those who have been bitten by them and fierce indifference in those who have not. And the faithful are intensely devoted. So much so that we give over huge chunks of our free time and money- and in the case of the most unlucky (those who seek to make a living from the things)- every drop of our soul juice. Somehow convinced of the greatness pent up in these lumps of rotting wood mush, we sign away our very soul juice. In other words, books make you stupid.

We risk our livelihood, our capital, our very future on these dead, dead objects- objects which require fully-developed human minds (rarest commodity in the universe?) to reclaim even the tiniest amount of the effort that went into making the fucking things. Does that sound like sanity?






















Bookshops are always going out of business because the basic concept is flawed. Trying to sell a product that mocks you if you haven't read it, demands all your concentration if you try, and provides dubious rewards if consumed... yeah, that's smart.

It's like trying to sell a diet pill shaped like Marilyn Monroe that may make you fatter, may make you thinner, but definitely will give you the runs. Or something like that. Or maybe it's like selling a teddy bear that stabs you with hidden knives when you try to cuddle it. A stabby bear. Except not even as cool as a stabby bear.

Einstein read a lot of books. Look where that got him. Dead. Just like he would have been anyway. Oh. And his brain is in, like, 55,000 slices at Princeton. Learn from the example.





















Porn. Porn is much better. You'll still end up dead, but, wow, books vs. porn? Are you kidding? Bambi vs. Godzilla? And have you played Super Halo Mario Gear? How can we compete with Super Halo Mario Gear? So screw books. They suck. Goddamn low-profit-margin pieces of crap!

Now get your asses down here and buy an armload, because stupid loves company. And if you don't we'll be both stupid and broke.

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This week:

All items mentioned below are first come, first serve. If you want something, let us know post-haste (because they're also for sale on the interweb)! All new items sell for cover price, used items as marked. Sadly, trade credit cannot be used for new items.

Our books are always searchable via ABEbooks.

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Loading Mercury with a Pitchfork, Richard Brautigan.
(Paperback, out of print)

His third book of poetry. Brautigan would go on to write six more. His collected works totaled more than twenty volumes of short stories, novels, novellas, poems, and miscellaneous prose. At the age of 49, he stopped writing entirely to concentrate on film direction, winning the Jury Prize at Cannes in 1989 with his masterpiece, "Two Crows, Out of Sequence." Compared variously to Terrence Malick, Andrei Tarkovsky, and Yasujiro Ozu, his films are credited with reshaping the landscape of American cinema. He died in 2006, at the age of... Oh, sorry, that's the Richard Brautigan of Earth 12-D. The Richard Brautigan of THIS reality shot himself in the head in 1984. He was not a well man. Sorry for any confusion. "Two Crows" is magnificent, if you're ever on Earth 12-D.

($12) [Sold]

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Squeeze Play, Paul Benjamin (Paul Auster).
(Paperback, out of print)

Paul Auster's first novel, written pseudonymously. He now no longer acknowledges the book and when asked to sign it at readings reacts violently. Legend has it, he attacked one fan with a dose of deep ennui laden with overtones of inadequacy and intimations of his own mortality. It wasn't pretty.

($20)

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Dust Covers: The Collected Sandman Covers, 1989-1997,
Dave McKean and Neil Gaiman.
(Hardcover, out of print)

In every newsletter, there's usually at least one book we describe seriously (or as seriously as we are able), often because we deeply admire the work contained therein. This is not such a book. And not because Mr. McKean lacks talent. He is, in fact, a sickly, deliriously talented painter. However, he uses photoshop as a crutch at virtually every opportunity, and this is unforgivable. So he is not deeply admired round these parts. But this IS our serious review.

($45)

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Home Tanning Leather & Small Fur Skins, F.P. Veitch, et al.
(Stapled pamphlet, out of print)

Ever stroked a little bunny rabbit's soft, soft fur? Ever wished you could take that experience home with you but didn't know how?

($7)

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Japanese Homes and their Surroundings, Edward S. Morse.
(Paperback)

Reprint of the 1886 edition. There is no chapter on chairs. Tables, check. Beds, check. Porches, hearths, cushions. Check, check, check. Hello! Japanese people! There are chairs!

($9.50) [Sold]

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Worm Therapy

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Gummi Bear Surgery

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Everything's turning into a pile of shit.

Except this.


















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Bambi vs. Godzilla



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# of weeks since Spine and Crown inception: 186

# of weeks since inception that no mention of Spine and Crown has appeared in the print edition of The Stranger: 186

What does anthropology tell us?

Not much that we'd care to hear, unfortunately. Jared Diamond, in his erotic thriller Guns, Germs, and Steel, contends that the natural state of the humanzee is small group communal living within well-defined territory, with a lot of roving, hunting, and gathering thrown in. That's how we lived prior to agriculture, sowing and reaping requiring, as it does, staying put. These mobile groups top out at about 100 members. Everyone else, the whole world of everyone elses, is an enemy. This according to Diamond, but accepted broadly.

Think about that for a minute. Everyone in your tribe is ok, even that bastard in the hut under the baobab tree, the one who's always picking his nose and flicking it in your direction. They're all ok because you know their faces and have since birth. The immutable laws of the group don't allow you to be at odds with another member of the group. So you know who your friends are. On the other side of the coin, you instantly know who your enemy is, too. It's anyyone whose face you don't recognize.












You might imagine stand-offs in the forest, one hairy, heavy-browed nitwit hooting and shaking a sharp stick at another hairy, heavy-browed nitwit, an unknowing trespasser. Two nitwits, the same in almost all respects, but pushed to extremes simply because they've never seen each other before. One chases the other until he crosses some imaginary line, and it's all over. Sound and fury, signifying nothing. You might imagine it that way, but you'd be wrong.

You'd be wrong because homo sapiens (otherwise known as "the ape that weeps," aka You and Me) has existed in pretty much its present state for about 150,000 years, give or take. And we only started farming about 10,000 years ago. Meaning that we've spent 93.3% of the existence of our species ready to attack strangers on sight. So that one nitwit who's trespassing? That's You. And the other one? That's Me. And I'm not hooting and shaking my stick. I'm trying to shove it through your throat.

This is generally accepted, capital "A" Anthropology. The tribes of Papua New Guinea, some of the last (mostly) unmolested humans on the planet, still roll that way.

This is pretty bleak. And fairly unwelcome news. If we're to keep our cherished illusions about brotherhood and sisterhood and the whole world joining hands to start, say, a love train, for instance- then we're not trying to hear that shit.

But the payoff for having your spirits dragged through the gutter draws nigh, o faithful reader. How about this: When was the last time you tried to gouge out the eyes of an unknown innocent? Have you recently had a set-to with a gang of roughs who claimed you were on their turf? Probably not. And why?

You can call it a social contract, if you like. Golden rule. Human decency. Belief in human rights. Ethics. Morals. What it boils down to is that we've made more progress toward being humane to each other in the last 6.7% of our species' existence than we did in the entire preceding 93.3%. And that's pretty goddamn amazing. It is a feat that has no equal in the history of all known life.

So the next time you're thinking they should just nuke the entire Middle East and start from scratch, or that everything's turning into a pile of shit, just remember that we haven't had a lot of practice being good to one another, relatively speaking. But not even the world's most cynical curmudgeon could deny that we've changed, most would say for the better.

Maybe we've plateaued. Maybe we'll regress. We might just progress. One way or another, as bad as it is, we've never been this nice to each other before. It may be a wintery kind of sunlight for May, but it's all you're getting out of us. We're going away to strangle our optimism now- you may wish to withdraw. Back next week, properly dismal.












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This week:

All items mentioned below are first come, first serve. If you want something, let us know post-haste (because they're also for sale on the interweb)! All new items sell for cover price, used items as marked. Sadly, trade credit cannot be used for new items.

Our books are always searchable via ABEbooks.

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Maakies, Tony Millionaire.
(Paperback, first edition of author's first book, signed)

Belching. Farting. Suicide. Drinking. Vomiting. Sailing ships and alligator-faced Frenchmen. Wachtel is the new Acme. That goddamn little boat bobbing around! No jokes here: It's a work of genius.

($75) [Sold]

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The Man Without Qualities, Robert Musil.
(Paperback, two volumes)

"That one is not famous is only natural: that one has not enough readers to live is a shame!" - Robert Musil

Considered one of the great Modernist novelists today, in his lifetime, Musil could find no audience. Only eight people attended his funeral. This massive novel, his masterwork, was unfinished at the time of his death. Only Musil's working draft survived, which he had written on a grain of rice with very tiny brushes. Nearly boiled as an accompaniment to a dish of gyoza, the book was rescued, translated, and printed in an edition that decimated a forest the size of Brazil. The gyoza were never consumed; have grown cold and unsavory.

($25) [Sold]

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Behind the Pink Curtain, Jasper Sharp.
(Hardcover, limited edition)

Exploring Japan's notorious "Pink Films," a soft-core sub-genre not well-known outside Japan. The truly astounding thing is that all these films were made by ONE MAN. Written, produced, acted, the whole shebang. He was equally fetching in pink and blue, and no one ever suspected.

($150)

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Kramers Ergot no. 5, Sammy Harkham, ed.
(Paperback, out of print)

If Art Spiegelman was a twenty-something right now, the version of Raw he would be publishing would be called Kramers Ergot. So cutting edge, it was irrelevant three seconds before the ink hit the paper, then got super relevant again five minute later. Now it towers like a statue of Anubis over the great cities of the West, commanding their doom.

($50) [Sold]

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Tissue Cleansing Through Bowel Management, Bernard Jensen.
(Paperback)

A classic in the field of bowel management. Includes a color photo section, and we'll let you guess what that might be about. The kind of book your crazy uncle gives you on your fourteenth birthday, along with the words, "You're a man now, Gary." We're not sure who Gary is.

($6) [Sold]

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How fast do we rot?

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Everything's turning into a pile of shit.

Except this:















Dust to Digital is perhaps the finest re-issue label going these days. They produced the fantabulous Victrola Favorites, and they've knocked the ball out of the park once again with Take Me to the Water!

Get it now at Wall of Sound!

Take Me to the Water from Dust-to-Digital on Vimeo.

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BBC Radiophonic Workshop:

Experimental Tribute from Chris Carter on Vimeo.

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# of weeks since Spine and Crown inception: 185

# of weeks since inception that no mention of Spine and Crown has appeared in the print edition of The Stranger: 185

Stupefaction: Yes!

We all know it's more fun to get blitzed than to get books.

No, no. Don't argue. We know you'd like to put a good face on things, what with our choice of vocation and everything. That's sweet. You're sweet. Have we told you lately that we love you? Well, we do. But don't cue up the Barry White just yet. The sad truth is that we love booze more than you, and it's come to our attention that you love booze more than us.

And that's fine, really it is. 'Twas ever thus. However, we've got our weedy tentacles stretched to all parts of the neighborhood, and word comes back that the local bars are doin' fine! Our flying monkey corps includes employees at half a dozen area gin joints... the data keeps trickling in, but the pattern is clear: Bars seem to be recession-proof!

We find this disturbing for two reasons:

1) Bar patrons don't seem to know the end is nigh! Or, more likely, they do... and are trying to float their brain in a pool of booze as quickly as possible! But there are certainly cheaper ways to drown the bitter misery of being a thinking, feeling human organism than $10 double shots of Makers' Mark. Which leads us to conclude that:

2) If people have enough money to not mind being hosed on their way to inebriation, then they goddamn well have enough money to buy a book! Come on people! You're necking that swill as fast as biology allows, and it's only going emerge again, under pressure, from one end or the other in short order! What have you gained by the experience?

And this causes us to ask, as it should also cause you to ask: "Why do people stupefy themselves?" Or rather, since the reasons for that are myriad and often manifest, "Why is stupefaction preferred to almost every other distraction ever devised?" Now THAT is a real poser. There are some mighty fine distractions out there...
















Sure, sure. We hear you. Drinking's a social thing (unless it isn't). You pay a hefty markup at a bar, but look- there are all your pals! And ooohh la la! The saucy ladies! And the sexy mans! No saucy ladies or sexy mans back in your lonely hovel with your value-sized jug of corn squeezins, no siree!

But if you thought it was all about friends and sexual liasons (often with soon to be ex-friends), then you thought wrong! Ok, actually you didn't. It IS all about those things. The id unleashed. The orderlies knocked unconscious and the inmates running the asylum. Glorious Dionysian frenzy! A slap and a tickle and a hug and a cuddle and watch out stomach, here it comes!!! Phew. Got carried away there!

If you've followed this river of thought as it empties into the Sea of Conclusion, you'll already know what we've decided. Until book shops can offer you, at the very least, a dose of Thuderbird and a grimly stained mattress to writhe upon, we don't stand a chance.

So we've already instituted some changes. If you stroll by the old Spine and Crown and spot a sign on the door that says, " Back in 10 Minutes," don't be fooled. The upstairs is just rented out, that's all. Maybe we're simply getting coffee- but maybe we're getting PAID. How else are we going to afford a pitcher when it's our round?













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Maybe we downplayed the Yelp thing a little too much last week. Writing a review for us will potentially be a great help. People who know nothing of Seattle read things like Yelp before coming to town. We want them to know we're cooking gooses down here at S&C, and they can get theirs cooked just like everybody else. We're also hauling ashes, so if you'd like to get your ashes hauled, speak up! We may even turn your damper down!

Spine and Crown on Yelp

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This week:

All items mentioned below are first come, first serve. If you want something, let us know post-haste (because they're also for sale on the interweb)! All new items sell for cover price, used items as marked. Sadly, trade credit cannot be used for new items.

Our books are always searchable via ABEbooks.

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Why Do Men Stupefy Themselves?, Leo Tolstoy.
(Paperback, out of print)

Isn't this what we were just talking about? What are the chances that some Russian dude would rush out a book on the same topic? Great minds, right? Hey, if Tolstoy wants to bite our material, who are we to complain? We'll take it as a complement, Leo! Backatcha!

($20) [Sold]

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Child of God, Cormac McCarthy.
(Paperback, first PB edition)

In our continuing quest to feature a Cormac McCarthy item each and every week, we offer the first paperback edition of Child of God, McCarthy's third novel. It's the story of Lester Ballard, necrophile, arsonist, and murderer. If we could have thought of a fancy word for cave-dweller, we'd have added that as well. Supposedly based on real stuff that happened back in Great Depression I. Not to be confused with Great Depression II.

($60)

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How to Get a Teen-Age Boy & What to Do With Him When You Get Him, Ellen Peck.
(Mass market paperback, first printing)

Another one of those "title says it all" books. This one's for the ladies, because the next one is definitely for the fellows. And yes, that is Cheryl Tiegs on the cover.

($25)

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The Imp, No. 4: Historietas Perversas, Daniel K. Raeburn.
(Magazine/Journal)

Prison rape, eyeballs gouged out with fingers, and a guy being beaten to death with stiletto heels. That's all in here, along with a full exploration of the industry. See, south of the border, they've got a thriving comics business that makes las telenovelas look tame. Sexist, shameless, and gloriously incomprehensible. Well, unless you read Spanish. But don't bother learning another language; we're pretty sure that one-handed reading is universal.

($35) [Sold]

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Who Wants a Cheap Rhinoceros?, Uncle Shelby (Shel Silverstein).
(Hardcover, first edition)

We all do, but Craigslist is fresh out. This copy is from 1964, before they started putting Silverstein's name on the cover. It's a little beat and lacking the dust jacket, but copies with jacket are extremely scarce. About as scarce as cheap rhinoceri. Sniff, sniff...

($25)















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Mysterious Roar from Faraway Space Detected

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Everything's turning into a pile of shit.

Except this.

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This IS a species worth saving!



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# of weeks since Spine and Crown inception: 183

# of weeks since inception that no mention of Spine and Crown has appeared in the print edition of The Stranger: 183

sempre crolla ma non cade

Another week of life's rich pageant here on Mud Ball 1, and what have we got to show for it?

Have the heavens rained golden manna into our upturned mouths? Have they legalized "it"? Have people all over the world joined hands and started a love train? They have not.

And why do people refuse to start this love train? Why are we inflicted with these ever-grudging heavens? What is "it," and where can we buy some? Good questions all, but sadly, this is just a stupid bookshop newsletter, not an all-expenses-paid trip to Answerstan.











Off the cuff? Bomb the sky. Just bomb it. It's too damn bright today anyway. Then criminalize NOT having "it". See how they like them apples. Finally, burn all trains, love or otherwise. Burn them! Then rip up the tracks! And burn the tracks! Crack the earth with fire because there is... no... LOVE TRAIN!!!

But that's just off the cuff.

Coming up with real answers takes consideration, introspection, and time. It takes a looooong view, which we don't favor on Mud Ball 1. Some people are trying to change that- to which we say, "Good luck!" But you may want to check them out, anyway.

Long Now Foundation, meet Spine and Crown blog audience!

Founded by Stewart Brand and Brian Eno (yes, that Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno), the foundation seeks to encourage long-term thinking in all aspects of life. One of their projects is to engineer and build a clock that, once wound, won't need tending by human hands for 10,000 years. Absolutely bonkers!























Authors Michael Chabon and Neal Stephenson are allies. Chabon wrote a great piece about the clock, called "The Omega Glory." You may download the pdf here (Clicking the link will download a pdf file onto your computer. Do not be alarmed!):

The Omega Glory

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Another question which seemingly has no answer is, "How do you keep a bookshop running in these spectacularly panic and pandemic-ridden times?" One helpful fellow suggested renaming the shop Swine and Crown. What a card! Really, there is just no end to some people's creativity! Taken under advisement, buddy!

But what recourse if rebranding fails? Maybe we'll just swallow hard, be brave, and beg all of you to help promote us on Yelp. It's probably pointless, but you could make it fun, if you tried really hard. You think writing newsletters is a trip to the race track? It ain't! Big us up, you lazy apes!

















But maybe you don't know about Yelp. They're one of these website things that's filled with people's opinions about local businesses. We're told that people actually read it and actually, sometimes, believe what is said there. You have to register with them to post something, but you're welcome to give them false information if you don't like them knowing about you. Anyway, here's our page on Yelp. If you have something to contribute, that would be grand!

We used to have 10 reviews, but two were taken down. Written by Mark and Ula, they not only praised the shop, but also managed to use filthy language, put down all other bookshops in Seattle, and advocate excessive drug use. We're not saying you should use their example as a template, but... you could do worse.

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This week:

All items mentioned below are first come, first serve. If you want something, let us know post-haste (because they're also for sale on the interweb)! All new items sell for cover price, used items as marked. Sadly, trade credit cannot be used for new items.

Our books are always searchable via ABEbooks.

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Brought to Light, Alan "Watchmen" Moore and Bill Sienkiewicz.
(Paperback, out of print)

Whacked out in every sense of the term. Imagine a non-fiction graphic novel about CIA drug-smuggling narrated by a coke-snorting talking eagle, and you're getting there. Aimed right at the black hearts of the miserable bastards who wrecked this country. So successful were they at rooting out the bad apples, the twenty intervening years have been filled with peace, light, and good governance. Thanks, boys!

This is the only major work of Moore's high period that's out of print... so maybe they stepped on somebody's toes, after all. ($65) [Sold]

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Cities of the Plain, Cormac McCarthy.
(Hardcover, first edition)

Border Trilogy, round three. First edition, so that's great. But, you say, this is the most common of McCarthy's firsts- it was remainder table fodder ten years ago. What's it doing in the newsletter? To which we respond: Oh yeah? Well, why didn't you buy it then? 'Cos it goes for twenty bucks now, smarty pants. Oh, and this a review copy, with publisher's slip laid in- and there ain't too many of those around. Only one online at the moment, going for $150. That's a ludicrous price, we all agree, but we'll be dipped in the Rio Grande if $50 don't sound about right.

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Everything is Illuminated, Jonathan Safran Foer.
(Hardcover, second printing)

Everything is Pretentious. "I spleen her." "He dubs me." "She licks my chops for it." Horse shit. Cynical, self-satisfied trash. Maybe it improves after the first page, but who can be bothered? You wanted off the cuff; you get off the cuff. It is signed by the author. ($45)

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The Collected Later Poems, William Carlos Williams.
(Hardcover, first edition)

This is your chaser. Following the above overblown crap, you are rewarded with the sublimely minimal:

The Great Figure

Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
firetruck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city.

Painter Charles Demuth was sufficiently fired up by the above to paint his famous "I Saw the Figure 5 in Gold," about as harmonious a communion as exists between poem and image.






















So, WCW. Nothing to sneeze at.

($40)

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Star Wars: A Pop-Up Book, Wayne Douglas Barlowe.
(Hardcover, second printing)

It's 1978. You're in Wal-Mart. You need a pop up book. Are you gonna reach for Cookie Monster, or are you gonna reach for Star Wars? Is there really a decision to be made here? The only thing really in question is, "Why isn't the entire store made of Star Wars shit?" "Why isn't this Star-Wars-Mart?" The desire for Star Wars branded merchandise is a flame burning fiercely within... It still scorches you today, 31 years later. Feed it. Feed the flame. Hey, most of the pop-ups still work!

($15) [Sold]

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Top 10 Grimoires of all time:

Collect them all!

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Everything's turning into a pile of shit.

Except this.

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The Official Spine and Crown Art Exhibition:


Machines that Almost Fall Over from Michael Kontopoulos on Vimeo.

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# of weeks since Spine and Crown inception: 182

# of weeks since inception that no mention of Spine and Crown has appeared in the print edition of The Stranger: 182