I recently had the opportunity to spend three weeks roadtripping around New Zealand. While I was there, I discovered that there were quite a few Australians living and working in the neighboring nation. However, I frequently could not tell the Kiwis apart from the Aussies. It’s a shame that I hadn’t seen Erik Singers’ helpful video explaining how to tell the accents apart using simple words and phrases.
Leon Underwood (1890-1975), The Siamese Cat (New York: Brentanos, 1928). Woodcut illustrations by the author. Underwood was a British born sculptor, engraver, painter and author who moved to New York City in the 1920s.
On my recent road trip around New Zealand, I stumbled upon what has to be the smallest bookstore that I have ever visited. The owners of the Twizel Bookshop describe their homey establishment as “a little shop, in a little town, close to the mountains and pretty far from everywhere.” Within sight of Mt. Cook, or Aoraki in Te Reo, this miniature bookstore in the heart of New Zealand’s Southern Alps measures a mere 12 square meters. But this little indie packs a world of literature in a tiny space. Utilizing every bit of their retail space adjacent to Twizel’s popular Hyrdo Café coffee shop, this charming store manages to be the soul of the town’s reading community.
I was impressed with Twizel Bookshop’s dedication to its customers. They host a regular reading group, maintain special hours so local school children can visit before catching the bus to their distant homes, and they also maintain “credit” accounts so the kids can pick-up books when they have no money with them.
Some followers of TBTP are aware that I recently returned from a three week roadtrip around New Zealand. Since I was hellbent on seeing as much as I could of Aotearoa as possible, I vowed to limit my time in bookstores and not buy any books at all. While this proved to be a challenge, I did manage to limit myself to thirty minutes in any shop and succeeded at my goal of not purchasing any books to way down my backpack.
The fantastic BookMark in the gorgeous community of Devonport, which is just a fifteen minute ferry trip from downtown Auckland, tested my resolve. I have to admit that within a few minutes browsing the shelves of this secondhand shop I discovered at least a dozen books that I would have purchased if it were possible to carry them home or ship them at a reasonable cost. Sadly, I left the BookMark empty handed. But, if you are ever in Auckland, it’s well worth the ferry ride across the harbor to check out this exceptional bookshop.
If you are familiar with the BBC television series Top of the Lake, you may also know that much of the outdoor shoots were in and around the tiny New Zealand village of Glenorchy. The mountain community quite literally sits at the top of the impressive Lake Wakatipu. And, if you are not au fait with TV dramas, the area maybe familiar since many scenes from the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit films were also shot in the neighborhood. There is not much to find in Glenorchy except gobsmackingly stunning mountain views and a great cup of coffee at the Trading Post. However, the town has a wonderful little free library.
The little lending library is located in front of Glenorchy’s biggest and busiest retail establishment. There are few shopping options in town, but Mrs Woolly’s General Store offers some basic food supplies, a fine cafe, and souvenirs for needy travelers. Surprisingly, they don’t seem to sell LOTR or Top of the Lake items. But if you’re on the road and want to swap out reading material, Mrs. Woolly’s little lending library is just the ticket.
This month the London Review of Books celebrates its 40th anniversary. Over the years, the publication has been a cultural touchstone for literary thought and criticism. To recognize the milestone, the LRB released this wonderful video which demonstrates how the whole thing came together before the computer age. While you may find it all a bit nerdy, those of us of an older generation recall (not wistfully) the old school task of paste up. For a few years, I published a limited distribution newsletter utilizing some of these painstakingly time consuming techniques.
“What Kind of Times Are These”
by
Adrienne Rich
There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.
I’ve walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don’t be fooled
this isn’t a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.
I won’t tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.
And I won’t tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it’s necessary
to talk about trees.
Travel Between The Pages 