Hello, my dear reader,
thank you for being here and also for your feedback on my previous one. It is always a challenge to start something after a hiatus.
Today, I write to you in the most unusual circumstances, as I went to the writing group meetup in Barcelona. I saw the information about it at the Instagram stories of Backstory - a newly opened English books bookstore in the city. Of course, it was an excuse to arrive here in the shortest notice. It is not that I had to go to the city. Today I could just have stayed home.
Before coming here I did not know what I will write about in this dispatch. But sitting here among 15 typing people and being surrounded by books, brings me one idea. I suppose it is very fitting to write about my relationship with books. There is always something about books in my letters to you. So naturally you must have guessed that I am a book nerd. Today it is will just more explicit confession.
I decided that I really would love to read more in 2024. To use reading books as a spell against doom scrolling and social media addiction and anxiety. I even went that far as brushing my old goodreads account. My profile picture there is from 15 years ago or something (I did not change it by the way).
It is so interesting how differently people write. Somebody does it on paper, somebody has their headset on, somebody brushes quietly over the keyboard, somebody bangs it as pianist doing expressive solo. I like to observe people. Altogether we occupy 3 tables and a sofa. I like to listen to the sound of typing.
I am obsessed with stories. It was so interesting to hear what other people are writing about. And what languages they are doing it in. We are pretty international bunch here, as far as I understand.
Something in my heart moves when I choose a book. When I finish a book. When I start a book. When I talk about books. I am still not sure what I feel when I write myself though. Is it excitement mixed with hesitancy? Is it a fearlesess act with a pinch of doubt? Or maybe half courage, half cowardice? I don’t really know.
I just know that I love to write, to read, to collect, to gift, to discover second hand finds, to touch and smell, to observe design and illustrations, and I also love to help books to get their visual shape as a book art director and letterer.
I don’t draw a line between books, here I am with Neil Gaiman who says there are no bad books. Books just are. They are these bricks of magic. Fiction, genre, literary, non-fiction, educational, entertaining, eye opening, children, beautiful and plain.
I am so glad that we are able to write to be honest. Writing is slow and not perfect, sometimes words just don’t come to one’s brain. I was playing with chatgpt help, and to be honest I don’t like it that much. Maybe it corrects my English (which is not native to me), but it also changes my voice. And I don’t really like it.
Isn’t it amazing how we connect with each other over the stories? To get heard? I know that stories have been here before actually written word arrived. But I hope you know what I mean.
As you also maybe know, I am a collector of books. My library is a weird fusion of stuff that delights me. And almost all of it is in Moscow. It used to bother me greatly. Now I am just sad sometimes. But I know it is there. And I know that I will do something about it one day. And I am slowly building one here. I know it is highly impractical. And sometimes a bit of an obsession. But it brings me peace. And if you ask me, it is not the worst way to calm one’s nerves these days.
This weekend is the day of bookstore Bruna opening, an independent bookstore in the village where I live. It will sell books in Catalan, Spanish and English. I hope to spend a lot of time there. I met Eli, who is actually the owner of Bruna, in the whatsup chat before we moved here. Her daughter’s name is the same as mine. Which is pretty rare. It felt like magic to me.
Marmaris in Turkey had Books & Coffee bookstore, where Ali and Gamze were the sweetest owners and the selection of books in Turkish, English, German, Arabic and Russian was just superb.
I need bookstores, I need people who are in love with books, I need to read, and I need to write. I highly doubt that I will ever produce a book out of myself. But I do these letters. And scripts for my videos. And messages to my friends. But I consider it all writing. Because it is.
There are very low chances that I go to a bookstore and leave with no book. This time was not exception. I got myself a copy of I love Russia by Elena Kostyuchenko. It is an assembly of her journalistic writing about very dark sides of my country. She writes so painfully good, her piercing eyes are those of a witness. It hurts to read what she writes. She doesn’t cover the ugly truths with lovely words. She just brings it to you.
Every time when I write anything about these things, I hesitate. We have enough of gloom in the news and I don’t want you to feel bad after reading my dispatch. But then I think that life contains both sides. I don’t feel adequate if I only write about how happy I am doing all this bookstore-hopping here in sunny Spain (even if I am). If you have a desire and opportunity - tell me how do you feel while reading my dispatch?
Simultaneity of good and bad is something that blows my mind away. Everything just happens all at once. Most of the times I am able to not get overwhelmed by it. I have learnt how to appreciate the light and not to be drowning in the dark.
Wow, it ended up to be quite a big dispatch. It shows me actually how much I can write in silence among other writing people in approximately one hour with close to zero procrastination. I think of hosting a writing group at my discord server. To have schedule when me and other people can come to the virtual writing room and just write in silence. People need people in the end.
I am very tired and hungry now. I will stop writing now, and hopefully will send it out tomorrow after some editing.
Please tell me about your book devotions, I am genuinely curious.
And as always thank you for reading me,
V.