Your Local Bookstore…A Thousand Miles Away [Joseph Wallace guest blogs]

2010 at 5am     Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky

I feel like I’ve known Joseph Wallace forever. We’ve been Twitter friends (he tweets as @joe_wallace) for quite some time, and I’ve been blown away by how he has connected to bloggers, indie bookstores, and readers nationwide to get the word out about his debut novel Diamond Ruby. Advance buzz for Diamond Ruby was through the roof, and now that it has hit the shelves, Joseph is enjoying rave reviews and well-attended events at bookstores around the country. I’m happy to welcome him today with this post about how the internet is making the book world smaller, in all the right ways.

When I was a child growing up in Brooklyn, bookstores were everywhere. With just a few moments’ thought, I can conjure up at least a dozen stores that were, at worst, a subway ride away. The antiquarian bookshops on Fourth Avenue in Manhattan, with their grand volumes under glass. The row of book palaces up and down Fifth Avenue, especially Brentano’s and Scribner’s. Smaller independent bookstores scattered throughout the city, each with its own style and mood.

And, most preciously, a store specializing in paperbacks that lay a long, adventurous walk from my house. I can still remember finding treasures—old Ace Double sf novels, mystery stories with wonderfully sleazy covers, stacks of P.G. Wodehouse books—nearly every time I visited. Just as vividly, I can recall the store’s characteristic smell, of crumbly paper and old glue.

In all these stores, you could find other true believers: people who loved books, who loved to read. Even if you didn’t fit in so well in the outside world, you knew going into these stores that you would always find kindred spirits there.

Then, just as I became a writer by profession, these bookstores started going away. First in a trickle, then a flood. Scribner’s and Brentano’s closed. Many of the old stores on Fourth Avenue followed, as did countless small independent stores. I still remember the day my older brother told me that our refuge, the store with all the paperbacks, had burned down…the worst imaginable fate for a bookstore.

When I learned that Diamond Ruby, my first novel, was to be published this spring, I was thrilled. But I also felt a piercing sense of loss. Yes, there were still some wonderful independent stores in New York, but so many fewer than there had been. How could I share my own pleasure, my own excitement, as I’d always dreamed I would?

To match the experience I’d had growing up I’d have to visit indie booksellers all over the country—something that was manifestly impossible. Perhaps I’d waited too long to be a published novelist.

I’ve never been happier to be wrong. I hadn’t reckoned on social media, Twitter especially. In an age when you might be the only indie bookstore in your town or county, Twitter has allowed a connection among booksellers that would otherwise never exist. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of indie bookstores are active on Twitter, providing each other with advice, recommendations, and, most importantly, support. It’s a tough world out there for booksellers, and it’s crucial not to feel alone.

For a writer like me, the renewed connection with independent bookstores has also been invaluable…and heartwarming. Soon after following every bookstore I could find, I started sending out advance copies of Diamond Ruby with personal notes, followed soon by some baseball cards/bookmarks I had made. I was reaching out the way I would have in my neighborhood—only now, thanks to Twitter, my reach was nationwide.

Almost immediately, I started hearing from independent bookstores, most located in places I’d never visited. Lititz, Pennsylvania. Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Santa Cruz, California. Bozeman, Montana. Shaker Heights, Ohio South padre Island, Texas. Their enthusiasm for the book helped guide me through the tumultuous times leading up to and after the novel’s launch. More importantly, their willingness to handsell a first novel by an unknown author they’d never met face-to-face continues to be the most stunning part of the whole publication process. It’s hard to express how much it means to me.

How about the kindred spirits I used to meet in little independent bookstores, like the young man who first introduced me to Bill Bryson and the older woman who pressed Robertson Davies on me? They still exist too, of course—on blogs. I can’t overestimate the number of books I’ve learned about on the many blogs I follow…and, more importantly, how important it is for me to meet others who share my love of books.

Just as the indie bookstores have made an enormous difference in getting the word out about Diamond Ruby, blogs have as well. Some of this has come in the form of enthusiastic reviews that both built buzz for the novel and helped get the word out after publication. I value just as highly, though, the chance to interact with readers, both the bloggers themselves and those who comment on the posts. It feels like a huge, free-floating discussion group, and it gives me the needed strength to keep writing.

Unless you’re one of the lucky few, it’s very hard to get a first novel noticed at all. I’ve been lucky that the people who have read Diamond Ruby have mostly been enthusiastic about it. But all the enthusiasm in the world would have made no difference without the interconnected world that the blogs and Twitter have given to us.

Diamond Ruby is set in the 1920s, decades before anyone could even imagine social media as we now understand it. To see my historical page-turner, seemingly destined for obscurity, rescued by people on the vanguard of the new age of communication, people who best understand the importance of the blogs and Twitter, is both a rich irony and a stroke of the greatest good fortune for me and the novel I care so deeply about.

Learn more about Diamond Ruby at Joseph Wallace’s website, and enjoy the book trailer below!

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