According to Ancient Greek chronicler Herodotus, the phrase “earth and water” was used to represent the demands of the Persians from the cities that surrendered to them. It meant that they were giving up every product of the land—unconditional surrender.

Since 1995, book retailers have been wondering if they’d have to use a similar token of surrender to Amazon.com. With 17,000 employees and the GNP of a small rogue nation, it’s easy to be impressed. Until you wander into your local independent bookstore, Borders, or Barnes & Noble.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Amazon—but I also love the smell of a real bookstore, the sensory overload. In fact, there’s a B&N less than a mile from my house. My wife and I have a couples night there once a week with a group of friends, something we can’t really do online.

So what do I use Amazon for? The reviews. It’s like judging Olympic gymnastics. You throw out the highest score (the author’s proud mother) and the lowest (the author’s angry ex-girlfriend) and in the middle lies the truth. Do I buy online or at my local bookstore? It doesn’t matter, I have a membership at B&N, so the Amazon discount is kind of a wash. In my mind, both can peacefully coexist.

Of course that doesn’t stop some from trying to blend both experiences. Have you heard of Zoomii.com? My friend Eric sent this link—it’s sort of the Google Earth of the written word.

So, where do you buy your books?

If you’re a Mac geek like I am, then you know who Steve Jobs is, right? The vegan, New Balance wearing, Pixar founding, CEO of Apple. But does anyone remember the famed French engineer Jean-Louis Gassée?

When Jobs was ousted by Apple’s board of directors in the mid-80s, they appointed Gassée as Chief Technology Officer. Under Gassée’s watch, Apple gave us the $6,500 Mac Portable, which started a revolution in portable computing despite the fact that you needed a forklift to move it. (Critics called it the Macintosh Luggable). Like Jobs, Gassée was more evangelist than engineer. He wore black leather, sported an earring and was responsible for some truly bizarre and memorable quotes of the early tech boom:

On personal computers––“We must always give our users pure sex. It's like a rendezvous in the back seat of an automobile with a beautiful girl.”

On the Apple logo—“One of the deep mysteries to me is our logo, the symbol of lust and knowledge, bitten into…”

But my favorite was his quote on the roles of advertising and public relations––"With advertising, I, Jean-Louis, say, 'I am the most wonderful lover in the world. But if two of the most beautiful women in the world say they spent the evening with Jean-Louis, this is PR.” (I’m sure it sounds better when spoken with a French accent).

As wince-inducing as that last quote is, he does sort of have a point, that when it comes to promotion, word-of-mouth is golden. Which is why I’m jazzed about this feedback page for HOTEL. Check it out.

I’ve never had to go off heroin, but I hear it’s quite unpleasant—according to James Frey anyway, but then again, what does he know?

I imagine it’s probably not unlike a writer having to live without the Internet for two weeks whilst moving across town. (I now have a greater appreciation for the frenzy my daughter goes into when she loses her cell phone).

But (breathing deeply), it’s better now. The cable man arrived yesterday on a golden chariot, pulled by unicorns, heralded by cherubim and seraphim. Harps played, doves flew, the modem sang…

So, the blog is alive and well once again. And what’s new?

• The Advance Reader Editions of HOTEL are officially finding their way out there. The pleasant anonymity of writing out here on the hinterlands is slowly eroding as people actually get to check out the literary merchandise. What can I say? If you like it, I wrote it. If you don’t like, um, well, I still wrote it.             
  


• I’m gearing up for a little book related travel in two weeks. First to Portland, Oregon for the Pacific Northwest Bookseller Association’s Feast of Authors. I’m looking forward to meeting Ivan Doig. He’s from Montana, writes about Montana, but lives in Seattle. I’m from Seattle, write about Seattle, but live in Montana. Go figure. I fully expect that when we shake hands there will be some sort of matter, anti-matter explosion.


• I’m also heading back to NYC––more on that in the weeks to come.


• Book #2, tentatively titled, Whispers of a Thunder God, is moving again. It’s been plagued by acute scriptus interruptus. Symptoms include summer travel, school orientations and moving


• In unpacking stuff, I found old poetry from high school and a dream journal from college. Wow, apparently a little Pink Floyd goes a long way.
  

That’s all for now. Must. Keep. Unpacking...

When I was in NYC a few months ago, I couldn’t help but get sucked into those little TV monitors conveniently installed in the back of the taxis—those little touch screens that show you where you are (in case you’re thinking your non-English speaking cabbie is taking you on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride).

On those little screens you’re flashed the news, which ironically featured traffic accidents, as well as ads for posh NYC real estate bargains.

One that caught my eye was an 800 square foot Upper West Side apartment that could be had for the “bargain price” of $1.2 million dollars. (What is that, like $1,500 per square foot?) The photographs that I clicked through on the touch screen had all been taken with a fish-eye lens to make them look grander and more majestic, thus hiding the fact that the bedroom was probably outfitted with dollhouse furniture. The Lego people used as models were a dead giveaway.

So I wasn’t surprised when New Yorkers reacted with awe and wonder when I told them I was buying a home back in the hinterlands that was roughly the size of Staten Island. (Okay, it’s not that big, but it does have 8 bedrooms—butler not included). Plus we bought it for roughly the cost of the bathroom in that NYC apartment. Granted, I don’t have a view of Central Park, but our little league field is nearby, does that count?

In rounding out an already busy summer, we started the move-in process this week. Moving always makes me rethink the merits of my comic/book collection, which has grown, like a benign tumor, since the second grade. Also of dubious merit is the family piano (suddenly accordions make sense to me).

And how’s your summer going?