The Bookstore: A Poem by Elizabeth Newstat

 

Elizabeth Newstat was the manager of Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles. Sadly, she died recently, but the store published one of her poems in its most recent newsletter, along with a sweet memorial to her and her spirit. The poem is such a brilliant look at bookstores, book buyers, book sellers and book lovers. In other words, our people. (Image: Maple Street Books, New Orleans, from Marriott Bonvoy Traveler)

The Bookstore: A Poem by Elizabeth Newstat March 5, 2010 At work I get attached to strangers Who are dying Whose dogs are dying Who have hot diamond engagement rings Whose checks bounce Whose cats are dying Who bring in paper sacks hiding whiskey bottles before the binge Whose husbands are having quadruples Who love Eat, Pray, Love Who hate Eat, Pray, Love Whose father-in-law loves Sarah Palin Whose dog needs a wheelchair Whose dog can’t eat wheat (Good! No biscuit for you!) Whose dog attacks me Who show me their novels, scripts, poems and make me happy Who flirt with the beautiful young Lesbian bookseller straight men Who flirt with the handsome young gay bookseller gay men Who flirt with me for practice with the young and beautiful Who forget the author Who forget the title “Begins with moon” “Begins with the” “Author is John” “Author is Jane” Who buy a book by the cover Who buy a book by the weight Who show me their Kindle but buy my pick in solidarity Who write books themselves and check shelves and complain “Where is my book?” Who write books themselves and don’t check the shelves Who are geniuses and don’t care if their book is here Whose dogs are mellow, fat, lazy, crazy Remember the baker in La Femme du Boulanger I talk to the dog instead of the owner.

And here is Chevalier's remembrance of Newstat:

It is with a stone in our heart and a lump in our throat that we inform you that Liz, the Chevalier's manager—and its crutch and soul and nagging conscience—has passed away. There is no way to describe Elizabeth Clare Newstat other than through literature. When Liz came to Chevalier’s she had more stories than any of the books on our shelves. Her taste was capricious and endless, and she filled the store in kind: provocative fiction, terrifying thrillers, discarded classics and the most beautifully illustrated kids books you’ve ever seen. She fought for the authors she believed in and every book she pressed into your hands would become your new favorite. Her drivers license claims she was 5’4” (but only in her signature platform sandals), a force to be reckoned with whether she was behind the counter or shuffling along Larchmont Boulevard—most likely decked out in her favorite t-shirt emblazoned with Bartleby's 'I Would Prefer Not To.' What she did prefer was calamari, American Spirits cigarettes, sweetened iced lattes, white wine and brie, Karl Ove Knausgaard, her bookstore staff, her incredible son Orson—and when you’d put on Otis Redding we’d be damned if she didn’t start dancing around the store.  If you’ve ever been to Chevalier’s, consider yourself lucky. Every book on that shelf was handpicked by Liz, a Los Angeles icon who knew even better than you did what you should be reading (even if it wasn’t what you wanted). She wanted everyone to do more, ask more, be more, love more. And, most of all, read more.

Posted by: Carroll