Bookish People
great books, great company
I love being alone. I thrive in solitude. Still, it’s nice to occasionally get out and see other human beings. I did that a lot this past month, much more than usual. It turns out being social isn’t so bad, especially when it’s with bookish people.
Here are some of the people I met and places I went to.
Katherine Rundell at Hicklebee’s Bookstore
The energy in the bookstore was electric. I could tell I wasn’t the only one eager (and a bit nervous) to meet Katherine Rundell. I kept embarrassing my 10-year-old daughter, nudging her to pay close attention because one day, when she’s older, she’ll be amazed she got to meet the legendary author. Not that Rundell isn’t already a big deal. Her latest, the award-winning Impossible Creatures (2023), is the first book in an epic fantasy series. It grips you from the first sentence and never lets go.
The first sentence is everything to Rundell. At the event, she described herself as a meticulous editor. She changed the first sentence of Impossible Creatures many times, until the very last minute, right before it went to print.
Here it is:
“It was a very fine day, until something tried to eat him.”
What kid is going to read that and not want to find out what happens next? A few sentences later, the sentence is repeated with a slight twist.
“It was a very fine day, until somebody tried to kill her.”
We’re only two paragraphs in, and our protagonists have already escaped death!
The first sentence of her spellbinding biography, Super-Infinite: The Transformations of John Donne, is also killer:
“The power of John Donne’s words nearly killed a man.”
And that’s just the introduction.
Even her essays begin with violent enthusiasm. Her review of Randall Jarrell’s The Animal Family (1965), illustrated by Maurice Sendak for The New York Review of Books, begins with the following:
“Randall Jarrell was the kind of literary critic who carried a knife in his shoe.”
Rundell is the kind of writer who carries a knife in her shoe. Her writing is piercing, but it’s not just her writing; every sentence that comes out of her mouth slays. Throughout the Hicklebee’s interview, the awestruck host had to keep stopping. “Is it normal that I want to write down everything you say?” she asked. Yes, it is normal. It is what I call the “Rundell effect.” She could read the phone book out loud, and we’d beg her for more.
I first felt the “Rundell effect” in late 2020 after reading her essay “Why You Should Read Children’s Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise.” At the time, I’d slowly begun including articles about children’s books in my digital lifestyle publication, Glitter Guide, and I was sharing them daily on my Instagram. I wanted to write about them in more detail, but I was intimidated. Then, I read Rundell’s essay. It embodied everything I’d been thinking and feeling. Clearly, I was not strange—or worse—cute for taking these books seriously. Rundell confirmed what I’d already been thinking: reading children’s books as an adult isn’t foolish; it’s smart. A few months later, I started Moonbow.
Now, you can pair that brilliant essay with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wonder, a series of five essays where Rundell explores the world of children’s fiction in a journey that reveals its fundamental importance to us all.
Carson Ellis, Daniel Handler, and Adrian Tomine at Club Fugazi
When I was a little girl in the early ‘80s, my parents regularly took me to see “Beach Blanket Babylon,” a campy pop culture musical revue at Club Fugazi in San Francisco. At the same time, The Pickle Family Circus, an avant-garde, European-style circus act, was performing throughout San Francisco and around the Bay Area. They revolutionized the industry, changing the model from wealthy businessmen profiting from the mistreatment of workers and animals to an intimate, narrative art form for the people by the people.
When “Beach Blanket Babylon” closed in 2019 after a remarkable 45-year run, Gypsy Snider, the daughter of the founders of The Pickle Family Circus (her debut performance was at 4 years old), brought her new immersive circus act, "Dear San Francisco,” to the historic venue. It’s been successfully running there ever since.
(Read: The Pickle Family Circus took the art of clowning to new heights)
It’s been around 35 years since I visited Club Fugazi, but last month, I got the chance to go back for a fun Litquake event featuring three incredible artists: Carson Ellis, Daniel Handler, and Adrian Tomine. Ellis is a pioneering children’s book author and illustrator (Du Iz Tak?, Home, In the Half Room), Handler (aka Lemony Snicket) is the author of the highly successful, strange and satirical middle-grade series A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Tomine is a cartoonist best known for his comic book series Optic Nerve and illustrations for The New Yorker. I greatly respect all three but was most excited to see Ellis.
I remember the first time I read Du Iz Tak? (2016) to my daughter. I was confused. What was this thing? It’s written entirely in bug language. There is no introduction, no backmatter—nothing that explains how to read the book or what it’s about. During the first few readings, I fumbled my way through it. I felt a little self-conscious in front of my 3-year-old, but she thought it was great fun. Eventually, I fell into a rhythm, and with the help of my perceptive little noticer, I started to see the story or at least our version. It was a humbling but ultimately thrilling experience. Here is an innovative book for children that will stump most adults unless they actively participate with children to decode the images and recognize patterns. It’s a book that allows children to teach adults how to read.
Ellis continually pushes the boundaries of the picture book form. Reading In the Half Room (2020), a strange book of half things—a half moon, a half chair, a half cat—is like reading Gertrude Stein. It is abstract and poetic—a nonsensical, dreamlike spell of words that befuddle and delight, and the surreal, velvety illustrations are equally thought-provoking.
It’s clear that Ellis is an ambitious artist and storyteller who's not afraid to take risks. Her most recent book, One Week in January: New Paintings for an Old Diary (2024), is for adults and is another example of her experimental approach. Part diary, part art book—it chronicles a lost era and period in Ellis’s life when she was emerging as an artist and falling in love with her now husband, writer and musician, Colin Meloy. Ellis called it “a droning catalog of my life at twenty-five, broke and unemployed, on the cusp of the digital age.”1 It’s more mood than story, which may dull some readers. However, I found it wonderfully boring. The expressive illustrations brilliantly capture a sense of wanting during a period in life that is so fleeting.
In an interview for KATU, Ellis explained that no one, not even her husband, understood why she wanted to turn this boring, old diary into a book. “I think sometimes the best projects happen that way; people don’t get it, and you’re like, ‘Just trust me.’”
Thankfully, Ellis has proven to us time and again that we can.
Rachel Michelle Wilson in Oakland, CA
How To Pee Your Pants: The Right Way (2024) by Rachel Michelle Wilson is one of my favorite picture books of the year, and I’m not just saying that because Rachel is my friend (although I’m lucky to know someone so talented!). It’s a heartfelt piece of auto-fiction disguised as a hilarious self-help book that encourages children (and adults) to share their stories, even the most embarrassing ones.
Rachel’s illustrations are playful and accessible, and her witty writing, though sparse, has a big impact:
It begins with:
“It can happen when you are sleeping. It can happen in class. It can even happen when you are sleeping in class.”
As you turn the first few pages, she holds it in, and the anticipation builds.
“You probably tried to prevent it using a number of scientifically tested methods. Sitting very still. Holding your breath. Crossing your legs. Even the grab-and-hold. (Obvious but effective.) Yet despite all your efforts, it still happened.”
Then, you turn to a dramatic double-page spread, and it comes pouring out.
“You peed your pants.”
What do you do next? Rachel shares many humorous ideas, but ultimately, bonding with someone over shared shame is the most effective way to get through it. She calls them PFFs (Pee Friends Forever). Rachel and I are PFFs. Who’s yours?
Rachel recently visited the Bay Area for her book tour and asked me to curate a unique selection of picture books for a celebratory lunch. We played a version of White Elephant to make it fun and fair. It was interesting to see which books they fought over (but I’m keeping them a secret).
“The First Cat in Space LIVE!” in Palo Alto, CA
Now that I think about it, The First Cat in Space LIVE! is a show that captures the spirit and energy of The Pickle Family Circus. It’s refreshingly cheerful with an intimate, immersive vibe. Part of this stems from the graphic novel’s origin as a cartoon that Shawn Harris and Mac Barnett created live on Zoom during the pandemic. Every Saturday, we’d tune into Mac’s Instagram to see what would happen next. We felt like we were a part of something unique and exciting. Shawn and Mac have kept that feeling alive by involving their fans in every stage of the story’s evolution. To celebrate Book 3, The First Cat in Space and the Wrath of the Paperclip (2024), we sang songs, we danced (like a rock), we laughed, and, as always, we dressed up as characters from the series. There’s something special about coming together with this group. We bonded over a love for these characters during a scary and uncertain time. It gave us hope. It still does.
(Read Getting to Know Shawn Harris to learn more about The First Cat in Space.)
My current favourite Rundell line, from her BBC series about children’s literature, is “We need more strange women in our children’s books”. And she’s not wrong.
Brilliant, all! And I'm so grateful to learn about Katherine Rundell!? Can't believe I hadn't heard of her yet. Already swept away by that quote you caught on video.
I recently bought myself a copy of How to Pee Your Pants, which I owned for a precious, delightful, heady 30 minutes until my 7-year old niece assumed I had gotten it for her and was so excited to take it home. Nothing quite so glorious as watching her slowly sound out the words on the cover, realization setting in on her face. PFFs!