My graduate education has been amazing and unlike any other grad program I know of—yes, lots of papers and research, but also a TON of hands-on trade experience that comes out to two years of actual industry experience gained working for a real publishing press and creating actual USABLE materials in my case that enabled the launch of Pear Shaped Press last quarter, which I was inspired to do during my digital skills class when challenged to make a digital object that was of interest to me. In the last 19 months I have learned how (and utilized said knowledge and experience to launch my absolute dream business venture with my absolute dream team) to make marketing plans, collateral, social media posts, SEO-rich blogs, create and manage metadata, make book covers and beautiful book interiors, logos, ebooks, audiobooks, do exceptional copyediting and developmental editing, write and evaluate query letters and book proposals, create sales projections, business plans, budgets, profit & loss statements, and more. There is literally nothing I have learned in this program that won’t be useful to me and bring me joy in the future in some way, whether I make my living in publishing, or just happily pursue my passion through Pear Shaped Press while earning my paychecks in some other industry. And as I approach the completion of my thesis/final research project and my degree, with the uncertainty of the future before me, there is an incredible sense of peace that comes with knowing that no matter what, I’m going to do what I love one way or another because I took this chance.
One of the best lessons I’ve learned in this past two years has been ask for advice from every woman who inspires me, and especially LISTEN TO ABBEY. My publisher, the incomparable Abbey Gaterud, knows it all. From parenting to literary recommendations to inside industry knowledge, literally every time I have asked my mentor for advice I have gotten exactly the answer I needed. So when she told me to take Archeology of the Book for my final graduate class, I did it without hesitation. Our very first assignment was to write a one-page paper on our first memory of a book as a physical object. We are learning about material textuality, and it is basically the study of texts as objects in history, and figuring out what their physical characteristics can reveal to us about the time and people and societies who made them. It truly is a class that brings my entire education full-circle, and is the only real theory-heavy class I’ve taken in grad school, but is the perfect combination of theory and real world experience I have come to treasure. We take field trips, like the one I posted about recently on Facebook to the rare books collection at the Wilson Room in the Multnomah County Central Library, and our final project is to write a research paper about a single text that we can have a physical encounter with and study.
At first I was discouraged by the prospect of this research project—so many of my classmates and previous students in the course had incredible libraries at home and came from rich literary backgrounds with parents or grandparents who were collectors, writers, literary agents, poetry lovers… My first paper for this class was about my most vivid memory of a book from my childhood, which turned out to be a very early (and now very rare) edition of the Boxcar Children, as well as some other early editions of The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. I’m sure at some point I possessed a few of these volumes in my own collection, but between a flood that wiped out a lot of my storage unit at my childhood home after I moved away for college, and having to later pair down my most prized possessions to what could fit in my car, only to lose those too, I have none of my original book collection today. I felt such fresh heartbreak and painful nostalgia when I realized anew all I’d lost to a string of bad luck and poor decisions that made up my mid-20s, and that I would not have the experience of so many of my peers in this course of creating new connections to their family histories through studying a single old book in their attic or a collection of antiques at their grandparents or parents home.
And then something unexpected happened tonight. Looking longingly at the single bookcase in my hallway—comprised of about one quarter of my brother’s book collection and literally all of mine, starting from about 2016 when I went back to school—there was one book that suddenly seemed to jump out at me, and brought memories flooding back that I thought I would never want to revisit in my lifetime. This book, I suddenly remembered, was something I found shortly after the birth of my son, when I was paying for my mistakes in the most literal sense—I spent a month at a work release program in San Diego, having decided that more than anything in this world, I wanted to do whatever it took to turn my life around and be the best mom I could be. During the month I spent there, I kept my nose clean, figured out in about the first two hours what I needed to do to go back to school and how long it would take me to get my degree (one year if I went back slightly more than full time, which I did), and spent the rest of my time reading anything I could get my hands on, and ultimately reconnecting with myself.
There was one small bookcase in a corner of the room that held all the board games and puzzles that had a truly unique selection of books. I’m pretty sure I must have read every title during that long month of keeping to and finding myself. This abundance of time and this odd collection gave me the opportunity to somehow both finally read Hemingway (THE SUN ALSO RISES) AND an extensive selection of thrillers and trashy romance novels. And then, towards the end of my stay, sitting on the shelf literally shoved behind a stack of romance novels, was this—THE CRISIS, by Winston Churchill. I will admit, sadly, that to this day I have not actually read this book, and had in fact completely forgotten I had it until seeing it on my shelf tonight brought all of these painful memories flooding back. But something in me at that moment I found it buried in that bookcase made me pick it up and put it with my things, and take it with me when I left—something in me knew it belonged with me more than it belonged in a place where romance novels were valued so much more highly. And maybe somehow it knew how much I would need it someday.
So here I am, reliving all these less than delightful but still necessary memories of my past, and contemplating a research paper—my LAST research paper—on this crazy happenstance volume I happened to “accidentally” carry with me for 5 years without knowing why or giving much thought to it at all. I opened it tonight, probably for the first time since bringing it home, and marveled at the binding, and the mysterious handwritten inscriptions on the inside cover, and turned to the copyright page to see when this was actually printed. I wasn’t hoping for much, friends. Mostly I figured it would be a reprint that had been through some exceptionally hard times considering where I had found it. I thought about how *I* had been through some exceptionally hard times too, and how much this book was kind of a reflection of my journey, being dusted off and rediscovered somewhere new with newfound potential and purpose, but still not far off the original path somehow. I thought about how old things seem to find me in my life time and time again and reconnect me with exactly what I need, whether I want it or not. I thought about how this book was reconnecting me with the broken girl I once was and have tried so hard to overcome, but also in that same moment, helped me see exactly how far I HAVE come to be the strong, independent woman I am today. All the mistakes and painful detours led me to the most valuable things in my life: my incredible son, my amazingly confident and talented friends, and the passion that we turned into a business that gives me the indescribable gift of peace and creative fulfillment even in the face of an uncertain future.
The copyright page reads “Copyright, 1901, By the Macmillan Company” and then, at the bottom under the reprint dates from the time it was “set up and electrotyped May, 1901” through October, 1903, “Special edition, June, July, 1904.”
