It’s that time of year again—BookExpo America, during which publishers, buyers, and assorted book-fiends from across the country meet at the Javits Center in Manhattan for a few days of bookish ballyhoo. Last year we met Grumpy Cat (“no touching Grumpy Cat, please”); this year he eluded us, but there were plenty of other (non-feline) folks to meet…
Mr. Javits was there, as always, guarding his Crystal Palace. Much like Grumpy Cat, Mr. Javits does not like to be touched; a man who sat in his chair was promptly moved along.
A ginormous and somber David Mitchell loomed over us all. (If the nightmares don’t stop soon, I shall invoice Random House for the therapy.)
In contrast, the Penguin Mobile Bookshop was fairly adorable and non-threatening… but my heart belongs to the Warrington Perambulating Library.
Inside the main exhibition center, Mr. Chewbacca was sporting this season’s lego tuxedo. (Shameful fact of the day: I have never seen Star Wars and had to goggle-image-search “giant hairy orange and gray lego bloke” in order to identify the subject of this photo.)
We checked out the latest wares from our favorite journal makers, Leuchtturm1917 (thanks for the tour, Laura)! Their notebooks are beautiful, durable, and ethically made; ask us about them next time you’re in the store.
And we also paid a visit to some of our most beloved indie presses, including City Lights, who have a ton of great stuff coming up for y’all. Thousand Times Broken features three never-before-translated texts from the idiosyncratic Henri Michaux… look for it on our shelves in the Spring.
Also coming soonish to Malvern Books… classic titles from the New York Review of Books!
BEA-ing is tiring work, and I really don’t blame this chap for making the most of his “new-fangled, super-comfy and supportive lounge bag.”
We took a little break ourselves… TOO. MANY. CATALOGS. And complimentary tote bags were in short supply this year; it seems stickers and pens are the swag du jour. Also on offer: a bafflingly aggressive invitation to meet Ms. Bethenny Frankel, who has apparently written a book about a resentful dog. We politely declined this invitation, on the grounds that we are not insane. (Leave it to Page Six to make sense of this peculiar incident.)
Recaffeinated, we headed back out to the endless blue aisles, in search of future Malvern vendibles… and furious, untouchable cats.