"Later that year, I hosted an event in the store for the anthology “This Is Not a Border: Reportage & Reflection from the Palestine Festival of Literature.” The anthology was a collection of witness writing, by primarily American and British based writers who traveled through the West Bank with the Palestine Festival of Literature. This was a book and an event that meant a lot to me. I had recently traveled to the West Bank with a peace delegation, and as a writer I had really struggled with writing about that experience in a way that didn’t center myself. Many of the essays in the anthology openly embraced the perils of witness writing while also keeping the focus on the Palestinians they met. Even uttering the word Palestine, as you know, can upset people. But I had figured that we were in one of the most progressive, intellectually curious pockets of the country. Boston, for all its shortcomings, is an extraordinarily literary city. And I wanted to challenge that by making us confront one of the more taboo and difficult subjects.
"To promote the event, I did sort of a grassroots marketing effort, reaching out personally to friends and people who I thought might be interested. Because of that, and in large part thanks to extraordinary panelists who participated—Ru Freeman, Teju Cole, Khury Petersen-Smith, and Tom Hallock, who each brought their own audience—we had over 100 people come to the reading. To tell you the truth, I can’t remember how many books we sold, but I can remember the look and feel of the room that night. The audience was quiet and incredibly focused. Reverent. There were many activists in the audience, people of color, students, academics. But also a lot of people, regular customers, who were just curious. For the first time I really understood the privilege of having a community space, and how we could really use it.
"Initially, the idea for the series was that I would create four events similar to the PalFest event— panels with writers talking about places where the American narrative is limited and fixed. I was thinking Vietnam, Cuba. Quickly though, when we focused on both the migration theme and works in translation, we realized how many individual books fit. So instead of panels featuring a region of the world (which, while interesting, didn’t allow us to get deeply into a subject) we stuck with our usual format of featuring a book, but always making sure that the events were in conversation so that the readings were about more than promoting the book.”
On the role Brookline Booksmith has played in the TLS, Shuchi noted:
“Without the Booksmith management, ownership, and our events team, who all have been incredibly supportive of the series, it would not exist. I have to spend more time off the floor, at my desk, than I do on the floor, and I used to shelve a lot of sections. The events team has been enormously helpful with operations and helping me pitch and book events, and our events coordinator has designed the logos and flyers. Co-owner and manager Lisa Gozashti, the biggest advocate for this project from the start, reads books alongside me, talks about the series to friends, customers, regulars, and is constantly answering my questions. So the Booksmith has created the physical and mental space for me to explore what this series can do and they’ve trusted me to be the face of it.”
Kudos to Shuchi, Lisa, and the team at Brookline Booksmith for being a voice of conscience in a world gone mad. Yours is an example of the extraordinary work independent bookstores are doing all over North America to create the "physical and mental space" to get people thinking, and deeply.
Booksellers, we owe you.
