Last week on our blog, Slanted and Enchanted author Kaya Oakes wrote about the struggles of independent bookstores and first-time authors, and how the DIY ethic can repair much of the damage.

June 25, 2009:
Circles and Cycles

I write a lot about cultural cycles. Within indie culture, the cycles of DIY creativity are directly impacted by the economy, politics, and the mood of the nation. Historically, independent artists have reacted to the state of the world by taking matters into their own hands, and an engaged dialogue with your community — whether it's local, national, or international — is a crucial part of the evolution of what we call "indie" today. Indie artists have always depended on one another, but they also depend on independent businesses to sell their wares, and all those record stores, book stores, comic book shops, music venues, and art galleries have developed intimate relationships with artists.

In this depressed economic climate, it's interesting to be setting off on a mini tour of independent bookstores. On the one hand, I'm stoked to bring the book out at a time when DIY is something we're all doing (whether we like it or not). On the other hand, the impact of the economy on independent bookstores has been severe. As I sat last summer writing a chapter about independent publishing, Cody's Books in Berkeley disappeared after 52 years in business. Having grown up in Oakland, the city next door, I'd been making pilgrimages to Cody's since I was in the womb. Seeing Cody's close was a heartbreaker, and doubly sucked because I never got to read there. By the time my first book was published, they'd already cut way back on events....

Oreo glimpsed her first on the stairs of a fire escape. He figured she lived in the building.

He didn't think of the cat again until a few days later, when sunlight caught her face peeking out from under a parked car. No doubt there was some resemblance to Fup (the same green eyes, same white cheeks and chin), but he never gave it another thought.
More than a week passed before she reappeared, along 10th Avenue near Jamison Square. This time, he approached her.

Who's Fup? She had to be told. She'd come to Portland from far away. By herself? Had she ever quite answered Oreo's question?

When the following afternoon they crossed paths again, in the parking lot at 13th and Glisan, he offered, "I'd like to introduce you to some friends."

But as they approached the Park Blocks from Flanders Street, bystanders, one after another, stopped in their tracks, startled. Double-take after double-take. One redheaded woman actually said, "G'day, Fup," without breaking stride.

By the time Zooey started barking at them through the door — and Zooey rarely barked — Oreo was so freaked out that he plumb chickened out. Made up a hasty excuse and turned the cat away.