Half of the great writers in the world have walked down this carpet to give readings at the Northshire Bookstore in Vermont, one of the country’s most celebrated and influential bookstores. Almost every well-known writer in the country comes here for signings. Northshire just opened a snazzy new store in Saratoga Springs in a dramatic expansion and I was asked to give a reading for “Second Chance Dogs” there the week the book came out, and I went, it was a nice night with a great crowd. But it bothered me, for 15 years I’ve been giving readings at Northshire’s original Manchester store and some of my readers complained that they wouldn’t get to see me this year, so I asked Northshire if I could go there also, and they graciously said yes.
Northshire’s Manchester store evokes the golden age of bookstores, in which it came of age. There are books all over the place and a staff that loves to talk about them. Northshire, like everything else to do with publishing, is changing, there is a whole floor of children’s books and clothes and sections devoted to soap, hats and Vermont-made clothing. But it still very much feels like a bookstore, it is an especially inviting place to come in the winter, there is a cafe and a lounge where people clack away on their computers and read.
These people are very loyal to me, I wish to return the favor.
I am so glad I did. I am doing a reading and signing at the Chatham, N.Y., Public Library in January, but this reading marks the official end of the main book tour for “Second Chance Dog,” we are coming up on Christmas and I need to turn my attention to my next book. A snow and ice storm was predicted for this evening in Manchester, it was just beginning when I arrived at the book store, we got there early and Red began working the crowd – this remarkable dog worked his way up and down the aisle, saying hello, warming up the crowd while Maria and I waited in the back.
We got a solid crowd – not a full house – of brave souls who ventured out in the weather to see me and talk to me, and we had the kind of book talk I really love – there were lots of good questions and we had a real conversation about animals and our feelings about them. I’ve always had readings like that at Northshire, and I value the audience they attract – Vermont is a special place, an oasis of community and connection in a fragmenting world. The reading and talk went for more than two hours, I could have stayed another hour but my voice was going fast.
It was the perfect note to end this very different book tour for my 25th book. It is a pleasure to talk about this book, and I am sorry to see the real world part of the book tour ending, I love talking about this book for many reasons, and people seem to love hearing about it. I’m grateful it ended this way, it felt very right.
Hubbard Hall is this very unique arts center based in an old opera house on Main Street in Cambridge, my town. I teach classes there – the Hubbard Hall Writer’s Workshop, The Art Of The Blog and this Spring, The Short Story. It is the culture center of our town, there are all kinds of classes there, from drumming to Tai Chi to singing and dance and pottery. Walking on Main Street this morning, I ran into Benjie White, the retiring director of the Hubbard Hall Arts Center, he was raising a “now playing” banner announcing a performance of “Ondine,” the play currently being performed here by the theater’s acting company.
I told Benjie I had to take a photograph of this local rite, it was like the Royal Pendant announcing the Queen was in residence at Buckingham Palace. Benjie smiled, and I said it was a banner for the play Ondine. “For Nelson,” he said, and turned and went inside the building. That was all he said to me.
I don’t feel the need to add to the chorus of comments about the death of Nelson Mandela, politicians on Twitter and all sorts of people on Facebook were heaping praise on him, including many politicians who didn’t seem to know Mandela despised many of the policies of the United States and consider us a violent, destructive and imperialist country. I don’t feel the world needs a comment from me about it.
But I was glad Benjie mentioned him on Main Street in my town, I did not expect it, it is the sort of surprising thing that makes me love being here.
I had a wondrous codeine dream last night (one-fourth of the bottle left, cold is getting much weaker, I am getting stronger), this one involving aliens and a pre-dawn argument with my former girlfriend about the demonizing of extra-terrestrial beings.
In my dream, it was the dark of night, I saw a powerful light out in the pasture over the barn, I grabbed my camera and rushed outside, there was a slender green woman with radiant, almost radioactive eyes out in the apple tree behind the pole barn, she was sitting on a limb and talking earnestly to Lulu, one of the donkeys. At first, I thought it was a fairy or an elf, but then I looked up and saw a ship pulsating above the pasture, there was no doubt this was an alien being, I reached for my Iphone to call my friend George Forss, he is a UFO Investigator with an investigations van, he talks to alien beings all the time. But the cell signal was somehow blocked.
I walked up to the alien, she smiled and waved and then I got a text from her on my Iphone, it said “I am friendly. We have no desire to snatch people and bring them back. Why would we? We don’t have guns or anger or violence on our planet, we have no need of you people.” I texted back, “Welcome, I have never understood why everybody on earth assumes aliens must be dangerous and want to snatch us, we are ego-centric, xenophobic and short sighted.” It turns out the alien loved Lulu and has been communicating with her for several years – so this, I thought, is what Lulu has been out staring out all this time! We had the nicest time, she loved Red and was excited to see him herd sheep in the night, she read one of my books and liked it, she was happy about me and Maria – she said she had been watching me fall apart at Bedlam Farm and she coyly suggested she had something to do with transporting Maria over to the Studio Barn, and made sure we met. Hmmm…I’ve always wondered how I could find my love in a town with more cows than people.
She advised me to look at the bug-eyes of the sheep. These are my sisters, she said, they have been here for years.
I woke up and told Maria about this dream and she said she didn’t want to hear it, aliens scared her, they didn’t want to be snatched. I accused her of being an alien bigot, why assume they mean us harm, they could just as well be wishing us good? “Yeah,” she said, “what about Mulder’s sister!” Oh, I said, speechless, the X-Files. That was fiction, I sputtered, but she didn’t want to hear it.
We had a good (and real) argument about whether aliens get a bad rap, I described the sweet creature I met in the pasture, and she sort of darkly hinted I was flirting with her, that she had charmed me somehow. I was huffed, I got up and fed the animals and let her sleep some more, we have some really wonderful arguments, this was one of the best.
Couple of teaspoons of codeine left, it’s good stuff, I have had some of the best dreams. When you think about it, aliens do get a bad rap, I hope to see mine again. Meanwhile, take a good look at Zelda’s eyes.
There is a new sheep line-up at the farm, Tess is gone, and we have a ram – Ted – and a new ewe, Kim. Zelda seems to back off a bit in deference to Ted, who is gentle for a ram, but not used to dogs. He tried butting Red away once or twice, that didn’t work. Red is the epitome of the businesslike-working dog, he brooks no nonsense and makes things instantly clear – he is the boss. It just took him a day or two, but everybody seems to have gotten the message. Kim herds quite well and Ted also seems to want no trouble. Red marched them all into Lulu’s Crossing and kept them there for a bit.
