chin music press - indie presses

Independent Booksellers Across the World

Profiles
Confounded Books | Reading Frenzy

Bookstores with Chin Music

We've been hearing a lot about the two Americas recently, and it's true that any culture can look vastly different depending on your vantage point. When we started Chin Music Press in the US, we were a little nervous. We expected surliness, disdain, mockery -- and we got plenty of it. (Starting a publishing company ain't easy, after all!) But we also found something else. We found that there was a friendly, inquisitive, open America that seemed genuinely supportive of what we were doing. At the very heart of that open America are the independent bookstores.

The same is true in Japan. Big distributors had no time for us. But smaller media outlets and bookstores gave us advice, said we were crazy, but cheered us on and helped us grow.

We'd like to feature our favorite bookstores here. If you're in the area, drop in and buy a heap of books. We need independent bookstores more than ever.

Confounded Books, Seattle, Washington

Brad Beshaw wears torn jeans, a T-shirt over long underwear and a scarf wrapped casually around his neck. But what gets my attention is the tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. His friend gave it to him last year to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Confounded Books, a store dedicated to zines and small presses. I mention that Reading Frenzy in Portland was founded in the same year, and Beshaw nods in acknowledgement. "I mean, it's just uncanny how many publications and stores are 10 years old," he says. "Quimby's in Chicago is just about 10 years old. Atomic Books In Baltimore has been around about the same amount of time. They opened up in '92.

"For a lot of people, myself included, it was kids who grew up on punk wanting to get more into literature because we felt - at least I felt - a debt of gratitude. I wouldn't have been able to get into punk rock if it hadn't been for the zines and what have you. And there are record stores everywhere. There will always be record stores, but there weren't any stores that dealt exclusively in small press, zines and the books that came afterwords."

Confounded's shelves are stocked with homemade zines, vintage comics and an eclectic array of books (including Kuhaku, which fits in smashingly). The space is shared with record store Wall of Sound. The walls are decorated with posters from Beshaw's favorite illustrators, including kozyndan.

Beshaw is an accomplished illustrator himself. While we talked, he put the finishing touches on a spoof of an old cereal ad featuring a cowboy. Beshaw's cowboy is sweating profusely. Above the cash register is a cute little picture of "The Man" and a succinct explanation of why Beshaw doesn't accept credit cards (because The Man gets 1.57%).

Beshaw's store used to be in Fremont, but it never felt exactly like home. Passers-by were often ... well... confounded by his offerings.

"They would say, 'Ew, what's this, a porn store?' Over in Fremont we used to hear that a lot. It was funny because maybe we'd have a backpage magazine in the window. I guess it's the Bellevue housewife mindset. But the catalogues that they probably get in the mail from Victoria Secret show 20 times more skin and in an effort to sell you a bill of goods, which is way more pornographic than a 1950s pinup bearing nothing, everything covered up, et cetera, et cetera. But you know, if they see something that makes them feel uncomfortable and it's sold at a store, it must be porn. It's like commodified badness."

Talking with Beshaw, you forget you're in a bookstore. His rapid-fire, stream-of-consciousness delivery shakes my stereotype of bookstore owners being carefully eloquent and cerebral.

In fact, Beshaw is a living example of how punk naturally morphs into lit. As mohawk haircuts and punk clothes became mainstream, the real punks put on their reading glasses.

"I had a conversation about this with Tom Frank (author ofWhat's the Matter with Kansas) who was the editor of The Baffler and now writes for Harper's. (The Baffler is) one of the longest running zines to come out of that scene in the late 80s," Beshaw says. "We were talking about as kids taking the train from suburban New Jersey into New York and going to see the hardcore matinee every Sunday afternoon, maybe five or six bands for five bucks. You couldn't beat it. And some kid from another town in New Jersey would come up with a mohawk and we'd say hey and be friends for the whole day. What bands do you like? How's the scene in your little town? Oh, we've got four or five bands, a couple of good zines ....

"Nowadays, these same signifiers signify nothing. You go up to someone with a mohawk and say,' Hey, how're you doing? What's your scene?' And they're like, 'Fuck you, I just want to get drunk.' That's what happens when anything comes above ground, and that's fine. They can have that. And there are still enough people really working. My wall here is testament to it. I can only afford about one-third of what I really want," he says.

Beshaw works at the bookstore six days a week and has a part-time job to make ends meet. Yet when I approached him about selling Kuhaku, he bought three copies right away. He said he doesn't believe in consignment.

So why does a colorful little bookstore with homemade zines feel so underground, so clandestine in today's America? Beshaw has a theory:

"In the 80s, punk rock was completely unpopular. It didn't get you laid, it got you beat up. And now literature is almost in the same place. It's very unpopular; it's not reality television; it doesn't move you like Coca-Cola or the Teletubbies. People have this idea that there is nothing new going on because the only stuff they find out about is through kids books. And that's fine. Harry Potter. If it's getting kids to read, more power to 'em. But for the most part, it's very invisible. You can't have a TV show ... well, actually Mister Rogers used to read to the kids, as did Captain Kangaroo. But not anymore. No one would do that today unless you could read during jump cuts."

- Bruce Rutledge

Reading Frenzy, Portland, Oregon

Chin Music loves Reading Frenzy. We went to Portland in spring 2004 to find an intimate home for Kuhaku in one of our favorite American cities. At that point, we had never heard of Reading Frenzy. We had our sights set on another store in a trendy part of town. We went there with our promotional packet, gave it to the owner, who glanced at it for about two seconds and said he'd get back to us. Of course, he never did.

On the way to the Amtrak station, and after a revitalizing session in Powell's Rare Books Room, we stumbled on Reading Frenzy. It was perfect.

The racks were stuffed with zines, edgy reading from Soft Skull Press, Evil Twin Publications, a whole shelf dedicated to Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky, another with just McSweeney's stuff on it. And there was a Japanese twist to it all, with manga and Japanese toys here and there.

Reading Frenzy is intimate, tucked in a trendy but often overlooked block of stores in the shadow of the almighty Powell's City of Books. It's also often abuzz with activity, with a busy schedule of readings, performances and parties (especially this September, when they celebrate their tenth anniversary). And best of all, the woman who runs it is a gem.

Chloe Eudaly has been one of the most supportive independent bookstore owners we've met. Her initial order for Kuhaku was ten copies. Most places that have agreed to sell our book have bought one or two (and we are very grateful), but Chloe went straight to ten.

"I have always had a fascination with other cultures, especially Japan," Chloe writes in one of her many emails to us. "My parents' first landlady was an amazing older woman who was a world traveler and teacher. She had visited Japan in the 1930s, and the trip had a profound effect on her. When I was a child, she served me tea and took me to the Japanese Gardens in Portland. When my parents bought her house in the late 1970s, the only thing she left behind was a box of all her souvenirs from this trip, including her travelogue. I absolutely treasured these items and spent hours poring over the photos, woodblock prints and writings.

"In my late teens I discovered contemporary Japanese youth culture via Hello Kitty and Kinokuniya books in Seattle. I still have a treasured stash of magazines from these trips such as Street Fashion and Crazy Virgin as well as a collection of stationery and office supplies with the most sublime, albeit accidental, poetry I have ever read.

"What's interesting to me about Japanese youth culture is how they seem to assimilate everything that's coming at them, including American culture, and reflect it back in such unexpected, original, shocking, sweet and uniquely Japanese ways. For instance, I don't care if I ever see another image of Elvis or Marilyn or James Dean, but I will never tire of seeing photographs of Japanese teenagers dressed up like them. Of course, it's interesting (and disturbing) to see different cultures adopt and interpret Western customs and culture, but in Japan it seems to be a national pastime that everyone has an amazing knack for! At the same time, there's a strong connection to their own history and cultural heritage that most Americans are severely lacking."

Chloe has never been to Japan. But the shelves of Reading Frenzy are alive with travel opportunities for the mind. Every book lover goes to Powell's when they're in Portland. We hope you walk across the street and visit Reading Frenzy too.