Sunday, May 6- Less

Good morning!

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Here is my book: Less by Andrew Sean Greer (the winner of this year’s Pulitzer Prize for Fiction)

Here is my breakfast: coffee and a baguette from Eric Kayser

I’ve been on a great book binge recently, and Less is no exception. I’m embarrassed to say I’d hardly registered the novel before its surprise Pulitzer win last month. It had great quotes, great reviews, but it hadn’t appeared on a lot of awards lists (probably in part because of an annoying bias against comic novels). In any case, it has been an absolute delight so far. I’ve already noted several lines for my quote book, including two below:

“There were the politicians sizing him up as for a suit fitting. There were the actors trying him on the red carpet. There were the photographers getting him in the right lighting. They might have done, many of them. So many will do. But once you’ve actually been in love, you can’t live with “will do”; it’s worse than living with yourself.”

and

“New York is a city of eight million people, approximately seven million of whom will be furious when they hear you were in town and didn’t meet them for an expensive dinner, five million furious you didn’t visit their new baby, three million furious you didn’t see their new show, one million furious you didn’t call for sex, but only five actually available to meet you.”

I’ve had a pretty stellar month in reading. Among the highlights: Rules of Civility (the book I’ve been joking I was born to read), The Rules Do Not Apply (a pattern emerges!), I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, and now Less. I was disappointed by Behind Her Eyes, mostly because I found it such a slog to get to the twist ending, a twist that made me want to hurl the book across the room.

Most of my weeknights and weekend have been taken up with editing and submissions, which I need to get back to, no matter how much I’d like to continue with my recreational book today.

Happy Reading!

Books for a Long Plane Ride

An old friend texted me out of the blue a few weeks ago. We live in different cities, so we don’t see each other often, but last summer we were both in New York for several months, and I lent her some of my favorite recent reads. A month ago, she was traveling and had several long plane rides. She liked my recommendations last summer, did I have any more for her?

I tried to keep my reads within the last year (with an exception for a series). And two books that I recently read and wanted to recommend aren’t yet out, but are listed below.

EDUCATED by Tara Westover- This memoir had been on my radar for a while before it was released in February, and I’d heard from a number of readers I trust that it was a gripping read. The general premise is almost hard to believe–a young woman from a survivalist family in Idaho, whose homeschooled education has been largely ignored, teaches herself enough math, science, and English to take the SAT and get into BYU. From there, she goes on to get graduate degrees from Harvard and Cambridge while struggling to reconcile her new intellectual life with her upbringing. I found the latter half–her (fraught) assimilation into higher education–most interesting, but Westover’s writing about the rural landscape around her and the complicated dynamics of her family is worth the read alone.

THE IMMORTALISTS by Chloe Benjamin- I read this over my holiday break–another book that had been on my radar for a long time. Another startling premise (this one fictional): four siblings visit a fortune teller on the Lower East Side and learn the dates they will die, with huge implications for how they live their lives. I fell hard for the Golds. Simon and Klara, the youngest siblings, move to San Francisco in the ’80s and find work as a dancer and magician, respectively. The elder two siblings, Daniel and Varya, finds respectable jobs in science. I was most drawn to Simon and Klara, younger and more vivid in the novel itself, but I wonder if that’s more a symptom of my age and experience than anything else. This is a spellbinding novel about fate, purpose, and how to live a meaningful, engaged life, whether or not you know exactly how much time you have.

ELEANOR OLIPHANT IS COMPLETELY FINE by Gail Honeyman- The joy in this novel is in how it all unfolds for the reader. I have to confess to have mixed feelings about this one; I loved it all the way until the end, when one twist made me throw the book across the room. But the read was good enough to make it on here. It’s hard to talk about this book without giving much away; Eleanor Oliphant lives a very ordinary, solitary life (with the exception of phone calls from her “mummy”), that is never better than “fine,” until she falls in love with a musician who doesn’t know she exists and meets a new friend from IT. The plot doesn’t sound like a page-turner until you realize that the real story is Eleanor’s mysterious past. I had some doubts until I got about 40 pages in, and it slowly dawned on me–oh, this is going to be messed* up.

*Fine, I used a different term, but my parents read this blog

CRAZY RICH ASIANS Series by Kevin Kwan- My CRAZY RICH ASIANS (and CHINA RICH GIRLFRIEND and RICH PEOPLE PROBLEMS) obsession has been well documented on this blog. These books are perfect plane fare: funny, smart, jet-setting. They’re not slim tomes, so one volume might last you one cross-country flight, but if you’re headed to Asia, I’d go ahead and bring the whole set.

BONUS: The two books I wanted to recommend but are not yet out:

THE LOST QUEEN by Signe Pike (pub date: Sept. 4, 2018): Full disclosure, I work on this one, and when I describe it to people I always start out the same way: Did you know that Merlin of Arthurian legend had a twin sister? This is historical fiction set in sixth century Scotland–I time I’ll admit I’m not particularly passionate about, except here–about Languoreth, the twin sister of the man who served as the historical inspiration for Merlin. The children of a powerful chieftain, Languoreth went on to become a powerful queen in her own life, but has gone mostly unnoticed in history.

SOCIAL CREATURE by Tara Isabella Burton (pub date: June 5, 2018): I’ve been recommending this book to almost everyone in New York. Pitched as a Mr. Ripley for the digital age, it delivers exactly that. It’s effervescent, beguiling, almost aspirational until it isn’t. The New York references (some lightly disguised) make you feel like you’re in on some inside joke. It’s unlike anything else I’ve read recently.

Sunday, April 8- Rules of Civility

Good morning!

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Here is my book: Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

Here is my breakfast: croissant and coffee

In our last installment, I was reading Jessie Burton’s The Miniaturist, which I highly recommend. I don’t want to spoil the novel, but as the end neared, I realized just how much I had become invested not only in these characters lives, but in their happiness, which hasn’t happened to me in some time.

Recently, in my submissions pile, I’ve been finishing full manuscripts to realize I don’t have “that feeling.” I don’t want to talk to someone immediately about it, I don’t feel my heart race, I don’t think “I need this book now.” It’s the reading equivalent of a shrug–and a shrug isn’t enough to acquire a book. It’s disappointing, but I’m optimistic something that makes me feel bright and shiny and awed and jumpy will come around soon.

You know those books that are just pure magic? The ones where you read one sentence and know that you’re in. The ones that make your heart flutter and your eyes linger over a single page. The book you’re convinced was written just for you?

Well, that’s how I feel about Rules of Civility. Except I’ve taken it a step further: this book wasn’t just written for me; I was born to read this book. After many years staring at and referencing this cover, I finally bought myself a copy. (Whoever recommended this to me about two weeks ago, please make yourself known! It gave me the push I needed.) This does have an exemplary cover. It tells you everything you need to know: sophisticated, aspirational, slyly sexy historical fiction. And the inside delivers.

I will probably have much more to say about it soon, but for now I’m savoring each word.

Sunday, March 25

Good morning! It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these.

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Here is my book: The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton

And here is my breakfast: Coffee (and baguette, not pictured, from Eric Kayser)

I’ve had this ARC of The Miniaturist since 2014 or 2015, swiped from the free take shelf at work. I remember thinking it was such a prize. I don’t often keep books from the take shelf around for long; if I haven’t read them or added them to my home collection within a couple months, I usually put them back. I have enough unread material at home and a pipeline of submissions on my iPad to keep me reading until the world ends.

But I love this cover so much, I couldn’t bear to get rid of it. I was going to read it someday, I promised myself. Because who wouldn’t love a novel about a dollhouse during the Dutch Golden Age? I’ve never been to The Netherlands, but I’ve armchair traveled there plenty (The Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Goldfinch–just putting those in the same sentence makes me laugh!).

I’ve been reading a lot of great historical fiction on submission recently, which makes me wonder if a renaissance is on its way (pun intended). Much of it has been set in Britain in the 18th and 19th centuries, all with a mystery or thriller component. World War II fiction has dominated for the past several years, and the rest of the historical fiction market has stagnated. I think fondly of the authors I read as a teenager–Sarah Dunant, Tracy Chevalier–and the historical thriller period I went through– The Rule of Four, The Shadow of the Wind–and wonder if those books would have found their audience today. I hope that the great rash of submissions in the category means that great writers and readers have renewed their appetites for these kinds of books. I’m certainly ready.

In the meantime, I’ll be savoring The Miniaturst.

Happy Reading!

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

I’ve been in something of a reading slump this fall, and I was counting on my winter vacation to pull me out of it. The last novel I read I had loved–until I got to the last five pages, when a late (unnecessary) plot twist had me ranting for days. But that’s a different book.

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The Immortalists at The Magic Castle

The Immortalists had been sitting on my shelf since BEA way back in June, and by the time I reached the end, I wondered why I waited so long. (But a note of warning: reading on an airplane while trying not to cry is perhaps not the best place.)

The setup requires you to suspend disbelief for a while, but it’s simple enough. Four siblings, ranging from ages 7 to 13, visit a fortune teller and learn the day that each will die. From there the story spins off into four parts, following each of the Gold siblings as their lives diverge and intersect in places you might not have expected. The narrative runs chronologically from 1978 to the present day, but so much of it feels timeless. But the big questions always have a way of feeling present, don’t they? This is a novel about how we live our lives in the face of inevitable loss; about how we tether ourselves to our families; and how we grapple with knowledge we’d rather just forget.

I was most drawn in by Simon and Klara, the two youngest siblings, who narrate the first half of the novel. Creative, unconventional free spirits, I thought they made for the most intriguing characters. Once I finished, though, I wondered if I might identify more with Daniel or Varya if I read this at a different point in my life. That’s some of the magic of this novel.

And speaking of magic–as a longtime lover of magic, having spent many evenings at The Magic Castle–I’m a sucker for a novel about magicians. Klara begins as a close up and parlor magician, but makes her name as a mentalist, specializing in a trick called Second Sight (which I’ve seen done at The Magic Castle), which she and her partner perform by using synchronized counting. Her narrative offers some of my favorite passages in the book, including this one:

“Most adults claim not to believe in magic, but Klara knows better. Why else would anyone play at permanence–fall in love, have children, buy a house–the the face of all evidence there’s no such thing? The trick is not to convert them. The trick is to get them to admit it.”

But the magic in this book, like so many books I love, is in the telling. It’s perfect for those who love a family saga, nuanced characters, and an elegant structure. It’s the “what if” that matters here–what if the psychic was right?

 

The Exterminating Angel and Bel Canto

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On Friday, I went to see The Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Thomas Adès’s The Exterminating Angel. I was initially a little nervous. The Met performs a contemporary opera each year, and although I love trying new works, the results tend to be controversial. Some of that could be ascribed to the older audience and some of that could be due to the (possibly outsize) expectations for each new production.

I did (some of) my homework before I went. The production received a rave in the New York Times. I read about the unusual instruments in the orchestra and watched all of the promotional videos. I studied the Wikipedia page for the source material, Buñuel’s surrealist film of the same name. The only thing I didn’t do was watch the film itself.

Some friends who went to the dress rehearsal warned me that they had had trouble distinguishing between some of the characters, which was helpful to know so that I could pay greater attention to it.

I bought a ticket through the Fridays Under 40 initiative once I realized that I wouldn’t be able to make the performance date I had previously planned to attend (Nov. 7). I’ve been to a few Fridays Under 40 before, and I enjoy them. Although I’m more accustomed to the Young Associates evenings (friends! prosecco! fellow opera lovers!), Fridays Under 40 has given me the chance to introduce a number of my friends to opera, and the pre-performance talks and demonstrations are always interesting. In this case, members of the Met Orchestra came by to play and discuss some of the unusual instruments used in the show, including—but not limited to—a slamming door, 1/32 size violins, and the Wagner tuba. (I have a feeling I’ll force everyone at the office to listen to a portion of Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze” played on the tiny violins.)

I knew also from articles and the pre-show talk that repetition is an important part of the opera. I’d never before seen the sputnik chandeliers inside the hall lowered and raised as part of the production itself, which was a real treat. It helped to have the repeated portions obviously signaled.

Although I don’t want to delve too deeply into the production here, I greatly enjoyed it. Best of all, no one told me it was funny. Not just comic opera (it’s certainly not a comedy), but laugh-out-loud funny.

The crux of the plot is this: after an evening at the opera, a group (including an opera star, a pianist, a conductor, a doctor, a colonel, and assorted others) attends a dinner party at the home of their hosts. The servants all mysteriously flee as the dinner begins. And as the night wears on, the guests realize that they cannot leave. Some strange force keeps them from crossing the threshold of the drawing room. While Acts I and II take place over the first two nights, Act III takes place two weeks later, as the group has descended into illness and madness, and as those on the outside try to find a way into the house.

As I watched the beginning two acts and then at intermission, I couldn’t help but think of Ann Patchett’s Bel Canto. Bel Canto is one of those books that flits in and out of my awareness on a fairly regular basis. After all, it combines two of my great loves: books and opera. I think of it often while at The Met, but never has it seemed so relevant as it was when I watched The Exterminating Angel.

The initial premise is similar: a large group of diplomats, businessmen, and other guests gather in an unnamed South American country to celebrate the birthday of a Japanese businessman the country wants to convince to build factories to boost economic development. The businessman only agrees to attend because the country has hired his favorite opera singer to perform. As the opera star’s performance ends, the house (the residence of the vice president) is overtaken by a group of terrorists, and all of the guests are taken hostage.

Both parties are trapped, one force more obvious than the other. Both of these works, though, are about what unfolds between people when unable to leave. People fall in love, they grow mad, they rely on one another to ensure their survival.

I can’t remember exactly when I read Bel Canto; my best guess is around my freshman year of college (likely the summer before or after). All I know is that the book had been sitting on my shelf for a couple years at that point. My parents had purchased it at the end of one school year. It seemed made for me—all about opera and language. But I’m sometimes resistant to things that I will likely love (see: Crazy Rich Asians; also, if I had a therapist, this would really be something to unpack in therapy) and so I let it languish until I found the urge to pick it up.

After the opera, I came home and plucked the novel from my shelf, determined to reread it. I turned it over, pages facing toward me, to find them dog-eared.

I have a thing about making notes in books—namely, I don’t do it. Sometime when I was a teenager, I got it in my head that making notes, highlighting, or underlining is disrespectful to a writer’s work. It seems a little silly, but I’ve stuck by it for all these years. Instead, if I find a line I love and want to remember (usually to add to my quote book), I dog-ear the page to come back to it.

Except that in the case of Bel Canto, I never came back to it. No quotes from Bel Canto appear in my quote book; I only have dog-eared pages.

It was fun, going back and scanning the pages I’d noted. I wanted to see if I could pick out the lines that had resonated with me some five to eight years ago, and in some cases, I found the lines right away. They struck me now as clearly as they did then.

For example:

“Gen, in his genius for languages, was often at a loss for what to say when left only with his words.”

or

“‘People love each other for all sorts of different reasons,’ Roxane said, her lack of Spanish keeping her innocent of the conversation, slow-roasted guinea pigs on a spit. ‘Most of the time we’re loved for what we can do rather than for who we are. It’s not such a bad thing, being loved for what you can do.'”

But there were other pages turned down for reasons I couldn’t parse. Sometimes I thought I could pick out which line, but not why it felt important to me at the time. That’s part of the beauty, I think, of rereading. I’m a little glad these quotes never made it into my book, because I get to test my theory: do the things that resonated with me years ago still resonate when I don’t read them again on a regular basis?

I guess the answer is sometimes.

In any case, I’m glad to be rereading Bel Canto, which is even more beautiful than I remember it being. And I’m immensely grateful I took a chance on The Exterminating Angel, which I think will stick with me for some time.

 

 

A Monday Breakfast: October 16, 2017

Good morning!

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Here is my book: The Wangs vs. the World by Jade Chang

Here is my breakfast: Maple bacon biscuit (c/o Huckleberry cookbook) and coffee

It’s been an awfully long time since I’ve done one of these, and today I’m coming forward with a special Monday edition.

I’ve had an ARC of The Wangs vs. the World for a while now, but hadn’t cracked it. After getting sucked into Crazy Rich Asians, though, I decided I needed more in the same vein. The cover of the ARC and hardcover (the paperback cover is different) long perplexed me; I couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to represent, and I always believe that a cover should give you some indication of the story. I was about 20 pages in when the realization hit me–the Wangs made (and lost) their money manufacturing cosmetics; the dots on the cover represent lipstick swatches. I only wish I had known that from the outset! I would have thought it was terribly clever.

Now that fall submissions season is slowing down, I hope to get back to my regularly scheduled programming (reading recreationally) and posting here. In the meantime, you can follow some of my reads on Instagram. 

An (Overdue) BookExpo TBR

BookExpo happened two months ago, but it’s still fresh in my mind thanks to my recent reading choices. For those who don’t follow New York publishing as closely as some people track, say, baseball stats or college football rankings, BookExpo has become the industry’s de facto trade show. It highlights fall books, the publication season for many publishing heavyweights–particularly in literary fiction–and buzzworthy debuts.

BookExpo (and I struggle here not to use its old abbreviation, BEA) has become something of a phenomenon, particularly since the addition of BookCon, a consumer-facing weekend for fans. Bloggers, media professionals, and publishing professionals now compete alongside librarians, booksellers, and distributors for advance editions of coveted fall titles. It’s become, well, something of a circus.

Last year, BookExpo occurred in Chicago, and I missed the opportunity to go. But I made it to Javits the previous two years to attend for a few limited hours. This year I had my own badge, and so I decided to take advantage of it.

BookExpo is best experienced with a plan. If your goal is to accumulate books, you need to find out when signings and giveaways will occur, some of which can be found online in the days leading up to the show (I had located some dates/times for giveaways from sources like Publishers Weekly, then found a helpful Google doc a couple days before the show). I mapped out a game plan the night before the show started. I printed out a list of giveaways and signings, highlighted the ones I was interested in, found dates and times, and arranged them all in a color-coded Google doc. Since many happened at the same times, I bolded my priority titles.

This year, I decided, I would only get books I really wanted to read. It didn’t exactly work out that way, but I managed to snag copies of almost every ARC I set out to get.

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A peek at some of my ARCs on Instagram @breakfastatkaits

Here’s what I’m looking forward to reading (asterisks denote that I’ve already read):

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng*

I loved Everything I Never Told You, so I had high hopes for this one. It did not disappoint. Celeste Ng is a master of complicated mother/daughter dynamics. (Side note: my signed copy was swiped from our editor-in-chiefs desk, and I am devastated.)

Forest Dark by Nicole Krauss*

If anyone else has read this yet, I’m eager to discuss!

Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Egan*

Fine, I didn’t actually acquire this one at BookExpo, but I’m obsessed. I don’t think anyone else can construct a narrative like Jennifer Egan, and my investment in some of these characters caught me off guard. I admire the risks she takes with every book–especially her fearlessness in taking on something new, like historical fiction.

Sourdough by Robin Sloan*

This has all the hallmarks of his debut novel Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore: quirky characters, futuristic technology, cult-like groups of those with narrow interest. Set again in the tech scene of San Francisco, Sourdough was a delightful read that had me constantly Googling the latest in food tech. Also, it’s inspired me to find a San Francisco-worthy sourdough loaf in New York.

The Misfortune of Marion Palm by Emily Culliton*

I just finished this today, so still processing my thoughts about it, but this is a perfect read for people who loved Where’d You Go, Bernadette.

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine

Code Girls by Liza Mundy

The Girls in the Picture by Melanie Benjamin

The Twelve-Mile Straight by Eleanor Henderson

Buzz Books:

The Buzz Panel, which usually occurs Wednesday afternoon for adult fiction, has become something of a tastemaker. Every year, six books–usually a mix of fiction and non-fiction, although all fiction this year–are selected as buzzworthy titles. They are presented by their editors. The only requirement is that the author not be well-known, which means that many are debuts. They often include some of the year’s biggest breakouts (Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven or Ruth Ware’s In a Dark, Dark Wood, for instance). At the end of the Buzz Panel presentation, attendees can grab advance copies (if you can fight your way through the sea of people). I managed to get all six books this year.

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Buzz Panel books on Instagram @breakfastatkaits

Unravelling Oliver by Liz Nugent

Stay With Me by Ayobami Adebayo

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent

The World of Tomorrow by Brendan Matthews

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn

If you want to read/are reading/have read any of these, please let me know!

Books and Breakfast: Sunday, March 26

Good morning!

It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these.

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Here are my books: The Guineveres by Sarah Domet and Bleaker House by Nell Stevens

Here is my breakfast: homemade hash brows and sausage; coffee (obviously)

This blog is like my journal in a lot of ways: I always say I’m going to write in it, then I don’t. I come up with ideas I forget to jot down. And then I’m always surprised that it’s been so long.

Instead of New Year’s resolutions, I come up with birthday resolutions. I’m on my (gulp) 26 at 26. And one of the major items on that list is to come up with a more consistent posting strategy for this blog. So hopefully you’ll see me hanging out here a bit more.

I’m working my way through two books right now (see above). Bleaker House is mostly a memoir of a young woman who spends several months on Bleaker Island in the Falklands to work on a novel. The memoir is interspersed with short stories and excerpts from the aforementioned novel, which I really enjoy in context. A coworker and I had both received books in the mail on Wednesday and swapped. At first I was a little miffed because Bleaker Island is about 700 miles from Antarctica, and I have a longstanding semi-joke that I’m going to find a publisher for a memoir about moving to a French base in Antarctica (to be funded with the advance). But the writing is beautiful and the characters are vivid, and now I just want to go visit the Falklands.

I first read part of The Guineveres on submission, and I’m excited to read the full novel in its final form. The book follows four girls named Guinevere at a convent. I’m not far into it, but it’s drawn comparisons The Virgin Suicides (one of my favorite books), and the cover is gorgeous. You can’t tell here, but the strands of hair are embossed, and I keep running my fingers over the jacket.

Happy Sunday!

 

The Joys of a Bookstore

New year, new posts!

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The Last Bookstore, Los Angeles

After a rather lackluster few months, I’m back. And excited to share what I’ve been reading.

I’ve been in a bit of a book slump. Nothing was holding my attention. It’s not that I wasn’t reading– I was doing plenty of that for work– it’s that I couldn’t work up the enthusiasm I usually have for recreational reading.

Because I believe very strongly in recreational reading. I chose to work in publishing because I love to read and share books. If I’m not doing that, then what’s the point? (Because the pay certainly isn’t.)

In early December, I was rooting around for some comp titles for an acquisition, and I kept coming back to two books: Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore and The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry. I hadn’t read either, but after scouring online descriptions, reviews, and those first chapter previews on Amazon, they seemed like the right fit. So I added them to the list. On a trip to L.A.’s The Last Bookstore the next week, I spotted both on the shelves and purchased them.

Turns out, they were just what I needed.

I’m going to be writing about both novels later, but the two books have reminded me of the joy of bookstores and the power of finding exactly the right book at the right time. I know that serendipity has changed my life. The influence of the right book at the right time remains a constant for me, but as I’ve noticed over the past few years, bookstores have changed for me.

I have loved bookstores all my life. Hours spent at Bookstar in Studio City, at Vroman’s in Pasadena, at the late Portrait of a Bookstore tucked into Aroma, at Bart’s Books in Ojai. Lately, it’s been McNally Jackson, Shakespeare & Company, and The Last Bookstore.

Bookstores represented the thrill of discovery. I will never forget waiting in line for the next Harry Potter book, wondering what would happen next. I still remember exactly where I was standing when I picked up Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian (the Barnes & Noble at San Francisco’s Union Square). I can still tell you about the shelf talkers at Vroman’s.

I love bookstores for the opportunity to discover something new. But lately, that something new has become more elusive. I work with books every day, I flip through Publishers Weekly every Monday, I read Shelf Awareness on an almost daily basis. As a result, I know of most books– especially the books most likely to capture my attention– before they even come out. When I go to a bookstore, I see the same books that have been circling my mind for months.

There are some bookstores that reliably turn up something novel (pun intended). McNally Jackson does an exquisite job of mixing popular reads with gems from smaller presses. I remain impressed by their fiction organization by country and region, which gives greater voice to underrepresented works in translation. I know I won’t see the same 50 books face-out that I always do there.

I get my thrill of discovery these days somewhere else: my inbox. It’s hard to begrudge that. Nothing makes me happier than reading a submission and getting that feeling– a flutter in my chest, a tapping in my feet. I call it “getting hoppy.” I get so excited I (literally) bounce through the office, and I pop into people’s offices because I just have to tell someone about what I’m reading.

And sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get to see finished copies in a bookstore– the kind where I did and still do browse. Because even in a digital world, bookstores are still magic. The right ones lead you to the right book; sometimes one you didn’t know you needed.

And in 2017, we need that more than ever.