Yesterday I flew into San Francisco in the early morn. I was picked up by yet another incredibly hilarious media escort, a professional musician named David Golia. His wife–he gave me one of her CDs–is a bodybuilding, accordion-playing, seismologist who performs under the name Big Lou.

I must meet this woman. I’m a little miffed at not having the strangest resume around anymore.

Everything is spread out here. We drove 45 minutes from the airport to the Pleasanton Library, which was indeed, pleasant. Had a great talk with a book club atmosphere. As much as I like giving talks, I think I enjoy the intimate atmosphere where everyone just chats even more.

Also,I got to meet a great, tough kid with Tourette’s named Steven. Steven, if you read this, you made my day and inspired me to stop whining! Keep banging on those drums! We’ll start our band soon.

We had Mexican food twice yesterday. That was once too many.

Yusuf Clack came, another online pal. His beard was every bit as fierce in person. It is a beard that says, “This is not a negotiation.”

Everywhere I go, there’s a giant banner of David Sedaris waiting for me. He’s always in town, if not the same night, very soon. This has become the running joke with my wife. “Oh, looks like David’s coming too! Hey! Is that a stack of 500 of his books over there? Looks like they’ve already been paid for! Wow!”

Mr. Sedaris, no hard feelings. Perhaps one day I’ll have as many books in print as you can sell in an hour by just showing up. Please don’t lose any sleep over never having heard of me.

The Golden Gate Bridge is incredible. Everywhere I go, I just wind up thinking, “I can’t believe people can build these things.” Buildings, bridges, whatever–people are so smart. I don’t have that sort of ingenuity but I’ll kill just about anyone in a spelling bee. Be wary.

The event at the Fairfax Library was a blast. And I got to meet Sam Barry, whose harmonica playing I’ve admired from afar for too long.

Also, Tara Sophia Mohr came. I’ve known Tara online for years, but finally got to meet her. From her Twitter avatar, even though it’s just a headshot, somehow I got the idea that she was tall. She’s like 4’1″ I think. Not a good estimator, me.

Also, Uma, another wonderful kid with Tourette’s, came. I made her sit up front by me, which might have made her uneasy for a second, but then she stole the spotlight, as was only fair.

I’m tired. It’s been so fun, but I’m ready to go home. I’ve got a bunch of stuff to do locally next week, but I want to sleep in my own bed and run around with my son. And I want to lift! Traveling hasn’t been great for my training. I’ve done lots of pushups and running, but I’ve wasted away to nothing. To nothing, I say.

Also, my hotel is very trendy and there are improbably handsome men holding the doors. They’re probably being built in a lab. They all look similar, and like they just stepped out of a magazine. It’s weird to see people so pretty they look airbrushed in person.

the end

Hi all, I’ve been in Seattle for two days and have now eaten five bowls (excuse me, four bowls and one “tanker” of clam chowder). I also got tricked into a four dollar cup of orange juice this morning when I was waylaid by a smiling waiter in a restaurant. I thought he was just being polite. Come to think of it, perhaps it was being poured even as I said “sure.”….

But I officially love Seattle. We went to the space needle yesterday. It’s tall. I went to the Museum of Art. Still have no idea how to talk about art, but I liked what I saw. I think.

I went on a four mile run yesterday morning and wound up at Top Pot Doughnuts. Thank you, man in Atlanta who said I had to come have these doughnuts, you were right.

I had a talk and signing and Third Place Books on Saturday night, which was great fun. TPB was one of the most charming bookstores I’ve ever been in. “Third Place” refers to this, not “We’re the runner up of the runner up.”

I’m at the Alexis Hotel. In the fitness room, there are three five pound dumbbells and some treadmills. Feeling uninspired, I must say. Three dumbbells–well what do you know? Time for juggling, I guess.

Tonight I have an event at the main Seattle Library. It looks like a spaceship. I’ll be in conversation with Diane Mapes, who is quite sassy and has been a great new friend. Diane is also coming back from a bout with breast cancer, so I can’t wait to see what she has to say about strength, faith, and keeping on.

Oh, I rode the Ferris wheel down at the pier with my mom. Great view of the city, and the water.

In the hotel I’m re-reading Roughing It by Mark Twain and had an X-Files binge last night.  Scully sure gets puts through the ringer. Mulder usually comes through with a couple of scratches, but she gets abducted, beat up, and more in just about every single episode.  In the FBI, I can’t imagine that there is a job one hundredth as perilous as working on the X Files.

And for now, that’s that. Off to wander the city.

Hey everyone, I fly out to Seattle in the morning for two events, and then I’ll be in San Francisco next Tuesday for a few things. Hope to see you on the road! Also, the link to the NPR interview on RadioWest is up if you’re interested. Doug Fabrizio made it really easy and we had a great time.

Last night at my Salt Lake Library event, someone asked me how I respond to criticism? If you’ve been following the last few weeks, you know that I don’t read reviews of my book. So I haven’t seen a lot of criticism, or praise for that matter, although I know the reaction has been largely positive. Hooray!

But other people do read the reviews and some have sent me snippets that, while largely positive, also mention aspects of the book that didn’t quite work for them. These helpful emailers are often wondering how I react to any type of criticism. (I’m not saying don’t send me these, but I am going to tell you what my reaction is going to be just about every time)

The best answer I can give is that, as a librarian who just wants everyone to read, it’s not my place to tell anyone how they should react to my book (or any other).

What if someone says, “This part of your book was preachy for me?”

Should I argue? Should I  say, “No it wasn’t, I’m never preachy, go read it again!” If that reader thought something was preachy, I say that reader is right. If another reader says it’s not preachy, that reader’s correct as well.

If someone says a section “dragged,” compared to the rest of the book, I’m not going to say “Oh no it didn’t!” If it dragged for that reader, then it dragged for that reader. Should I say, “You know, if you really think about it, that was actually the most exciting section for you. Try to remember.”

And if someone says, “It’s kind of all over, not super cohesive,” I’m not going to protest that it is, in fact, the very definition of cohesion. What would be the point?

I wrote the book, it’s out there, and I don’t get to insist on how people react to it. Nor am I interested in everyone having the same reaction, the differences are what keep things lively and lead to such great conversations about books.

The only response that makes sense to me as a writer is:

It’s a privilege to have readers, and not everyone has readers. Thank you for reading!

Howdy folks, I have a couple of quick things to share with you today,

1. Yesterday the interview Janette and I did for Parade posted on their homepage. You can watch it here to see who will play me in the movie. I seriously had no idea they were filming it, which probably helped. I knew there was a camera there, but I thought it was audio only for soundbites.

2. The book got a brief but very positive review in People Magazine, which just hit stands. It’s about time I started sharing magazine space with the Kardashians.

Here’s a scan of the page: 

3. Read Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, who is currently my favorite author (always after Mark Twain, always). This book is trippy business in the best way.

4. I’m trying to work Bon Jovi lyrics into all of my interviews. Please post some lyrics you’d like to hear on the air in the comments.

The end!

Josh

Hi all, I wanted to give you an updated list of places I’ll be speaking and/or signing. Some are open to the public, some are just for library folks.

But! If I’m in your town and you want to hang out, and I have time, I’d love to meet everyone I can.

Here’s what’s coming up.

June 7, Denver, CO – speaking at a library conference

June 28 and 29, Chicago, IL – Panelist and signing at ALA Annual

July 17 – Hartford, CT – Speaking at a library then touring Mark Twain’s House. I’ll also be around the next day for the Stephen King event. 

September 26 and 27, Loudon County, VA – Talk and signing, along with visits to a school and a juvenile detention center

October 12 – Pinedale, WY – Two Talks And Signings as well as a Meet And Greet

October 30, Monterrey, CA – Closing Keynote at Internet Librarian 2013

Hi all, despite having done nothing but talk, eat, get driven around, and watch Iron Man 3 for the past week, I was whipped when I landed in Salt Lake last night. Seasoned traveler? Not I.  Not yet. But I’ll say that I’ve never had more fun in a week.  Such a good time. Now I’m home for four days before heading off to the jewels of America that are Seattle and San Francisco, or so the legends go.

A few more observations from St. Louis and the event:

• If you can get 50 people in a library on a Saturday night at a free event, someone at that library is doing something right

• The event was wonderful and I was thrilled to see some Tourette’s kids there. Also, a strength coach from the St. Louis Rams came out and if I am half the brute at 58 that he was, I’ll be happy.  Very nice, very strong.  Lifting will help you age well. I have seen the evidence!

• Parts of St. Louis looked like New York, except that there weren’t any people on the street. Like, none.

• On Saturday morning we got trapped by a 5k–we almost had no choice but to start running or get trampled, but we escaped into a place called Smoothie King, which turned out to be even more crowded than the street.

• The St. Louis City Museum might be my favorite place in the world

• I asked someone, “tell me why a person might visit Missouri?”  He immediately replied, “There are three things we do really well–meth, portion sizes, and hate crimes.”  Then he laughed.  I have no idea if it was a joke.  I did have some big portions (of food).

• I ate at a steak house where the booth had “privacy drapes.”  I had to close them, I couldn’t help it.  Then I said, “Let’s talk loud and make everyone think celebrities are in here. I’ll be Lebron James.” That was the night the Heat were playing, but I forgot, so nobody bought my fabulous imitation.

•  Five dollars is too much for a can of Sprite (don’t ask)

• I ate great food on this trip, but I didn’t eat that clean and I’m paying for it.  I also didn’t get enough exercise outside of walking. Will remedy this on the next leg of the trip.

• The more times I sign my name, the worse it looks. I’m not sure how to fix this.  When I run out of clever things to write, I start drawing pigs, but then even the pigs start to get sloppy. 

More to come!

If you’re in the Salt Lake area, this Thursday evening is the big Author’s Live event. It’s going to be fun. Hope to see you there.

Hi everyone. Part of the introduction to The World’s Strongest Librarian is now available on a few websites, so I’m going to post it here as well for anyone on the fence about reading and/or buying it. enjoy!

Today the library was hot, humid, and smelly. It was like working inside a giant pair of glass underpants without any leg holes to escape through. The building moved. It breathed. It seethed with bodies and thoughts moving in and out of people’s heads. Mostly out.

“You tall bigot!”

I stopped and wondered if these two words had ever been put next to each other. The odds were astronomical; even someone with my primitive math skills knew this. I laughed, which didn’t help the situation, which was this: A guy wearing a jaunty red neckerchief had walked by the reference desk, yelling about the “motherfucking Jews and lesbians on the Supreme Court.” I had asked him to lower his voice and voilà! Now I was a tall bigot…the worst kind of all.

“What are you, some kind of Jew?” he sputtered. I’ve never seen someone so enraged. I wondered what he’d do if he knew I’d been raised Mormon.

Maybe he was mad because he couldn’t find the anti-Semitism section. The library has a robust collection of what I call non-cuddly hate lit. This is one of my favorite things about working here: If you believe censorship is poison, here lies paradise. We have sections on anti-Mormonism, anti-Semitism, anti-anti-Semitism, anti-atheism, anti-God, anti-feminism, pro-gay…there’s something to offend everyone.

Moshe Safdie, the architect who designed the Salt Lake City Public Library, won numerous awards for his vision and technical derring-do. He thought big, appropriately, because a building that can hold 500,000 books is enormous. The number of items circulating each hour is rivaled only by the number of people napping in the corners. But nothing is as impressive as the way the building looks. I work in a beautiful building made almost entirely of glass. Seen from the air, it looks like the Nike Swoosh if it got frightened and began to cower.

An older librarian—one of the few other males—once said to me, “Whatever we deal with, coming here is always a visual reward.” This statement is poetic, accurate, and maddening. Because most of the time it feels like people show up just to fight about something with total strangers like me. Which is fine. I’m not here for the good company.

One of the reasons I work here is because I have extreme Tourette Syndrome.* The kind with verbal tics, sometimes loud ones; the kind that draws warning looks. Working in this library is the ultimate test for someone who literally can’t sit still. Who can’t shush himself. A test of willpower, of patience, and occasionally, of the limits of human absurdity.

A patron recently took exception to a series of throat clearings I couldn’t suppress. As he approached, I put on my customer service smile and readied myself for one of those rare, mind-blowing reference transactions that I hear about from other librarians. Instead this man said, “If you’re going to walk around honking like a royal swan, you don’t belong in the library. I’m going to call security. Somebody needs to teach you a lesson.”

I stood up. I’m six feet seven inches tall, and I weigh 260 pounds. “Is it you?” I’m not confrontational, but I don’t lose many staring contests. I’m good at looming when it’s helpful. He walked away.

I also work here because I love books, because I’m inveterately curious, and because, like most librarians, I’m not well suited to anything else. As a breed, we’re the ultimate generalists. I’ll never know everything about anything, but I’ll know something about almost everything and that’s how I like to live.

Earlier today a young woman asked me to help her find a book about how to knit lingerie. This is the sort of question library school recruiters should feature in their dreary PowerPoint presentations, not claptrap about how we’re the “stewards of democracy.” They would definitely attract more males to the profession. When I arrived in my library department two years ago, the alpha male was a sixty-six-year-old woman.

On our way to the lingerie section—yes, the official subject heading is Lingerie, call number 646.42—I tripped over another young woman who was lying on the floor beneath a blanket, nestled between two rows of law books. I’m thirty-five years old and it both relieves and elates me to know I can still be surprised.

“I’m sleeping here!” she yelled.

I’m rarely at a loss for words outside the library. But within its walls I’m required to form sentences that no logical person should ever have to utter, for instance, “You can’t sleep on the floor at the library under your blanket.”

“I don’t snore!” she said, gripping her blanket with both hands, as if I might snatch it away.

“I’m sure you don’t,” I said. “That’s not the point.”

“Well, there’s no other point!”

This was an occasion when my need to be right didn’t feel that important. I made a phone call. Security interrupted her derailed slumber and led her out of the building. And stay out, I pictured them yelling, tossing the blanket after her, where it would be swept into traffic by a sudden gust of wind.

I felt a twinge of envy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a nap. I’ll admit to often feeling sleepy in the library. Most of the time, in fact. The building was constructed with the ability to save power and warm itself, so the glass walls make it difficult to find an area that isn’t bathed by soporific sunbeams. I briefly considered lying down on the floor between Black’s Law Dictionary and the Morningstar investment guides. Someone would probably report me, but I might be imposing enough to buy myself a power nap. Then someone came to the desk for help and the plan ended before it began.

I really want someone to ask me a question that is not “How many times can I fall asleep in here before I get kicked out?” I really want this building to serve the purpose for which it was intended—as a breeding ground for curiosity.

I work on Level 3. If you’re on my floor you’re probably looking for information about Bigfoot; the healing powers of crystals, self-help, or psychology; you’re trying to expunge something from your record and need the law section; you need to lose weight; you heard that people make money on the Internet; you need to summon some pixies; you want to get into hat-making; you can’t sight your rifle; you’re sick of the Jews; you’re sick of the people who won’t shut up about being sick of the Jews; you’re looking for a Bible; or you’re cramming for the SAT. Unless you’re just looking for a place to sleep, in which case I’d direct you to any of the comfortable chairs laid out around the perimeter, out of my direct line of sight. And if you’re hooking up with your drug dealer, that’s usually conducted in the restrooms.

Later this morning, something actually happened that didn’t require me to wake someone up or tell him to watch porn at home. An African American man asked me if the Hutu tribe in Rwanda had any Jewish ancestry. What a fascinating question. We started hunting through the library’s incredibly expensive, underpromoted, and underused research databases. After an hour we realized that the question was bigger than we could complete during one session, but he had enough leads to pursue on his own. We’d forgotten that the rest of the world existed as we leaned over my computer and hurried to and fro in the stacks grabbing books.

As always, many patrons wanted to research their genealogy. I always wonder why. Were they trying to discover whether they might have an inheritance coming to them? Being kept from them? Researching the people who led to their own genetic impairments? I have Tourette Syndrome because of some combination of my parents’ crazy innards. His genes met hers and said, “Hey, let’s get stupid!” I can’t blame them for not knowing any better. If there’s a memo out there that says Never cross a Navajo and a Mormon or you’ll create a twitchy baby who will be a burden forever, they never got it.

At lunch, many of the librarians lurched up to the staff room and fell onto chairs and couches with their books and magazines. Librarians as a rule move about as well as the Tin Man did before Dorothy brought him the oilcan. Their heads often sit so far forward on their necks that they look like woodpeckers frozen in mid-peck. Their shoulders are rounded from answering the phone, typing, eating, and reading. Their hands at rest inevitably rotate into the typing position. They spend so much time looking down at computers and into books and talking down to people from their tall desks that it’s become an unnatural effort to raise their eyes to make eye contact during conversation.

I move quite well, partly because during my lunch break, I go downstairs to the library’s diminutive fitness room, wrap my hands in thin, well-seasoned leather strips to protect them, and bend horseshoes. I’m also working on the goal of deadlifting six hundred pounds, but I do that outside the library walls. The sound of six hundred pounds hitting the ground is serious. Dropping that much weight in the basement of the library would echo up to the top floor and wake everyone up. When I hit a snag, I call my coach, a man named Adam.

Adam is a former air force tech sergeant, an expert in hand-to-hand combat, and the sort of hard-ass who describes poor haircuts as “…

Janette and I just got down from the St. Louis Arch.  We rode up in a tiny pod with three other people. The pods are about the size and depth of a large tube television from about 10 years ago. We were all very sweaty and sick of each other by the time we got to the top.

Let’s back up.

So yesterday we got up and stalked into the Atlanta humidity, looking for adventure. We got really hot and gave up quickly, retreating to the hotel just in time for our media escort to pick us up.

A word on the escorts. I thought I’d feel snooty being driven around everywhere, but now that I see how many details have to be in place for a book tour to work, I can only see how many things I’d get wrong if I was left to my own devices.  If I didn’t have help, I’d no doubt still be stuck in the elevator in New York, trying to figure out how to time my key card in sequence with the correct floor number.

Our guide knew everything about Atlanta. We went to the Margaret Mitchell house and I got to see where Gone With The Wind was written. I also got to type on a really old typewriter in her office. I typed, YOU SHOULD BUY THE WORLD’S STRONGEST LIBRARIAN.

Then we went to a real southern diner, where I realized I had never actually had:

• real lemonade
• hoppin’ John
• Brunswick stew
• collard greens
• fried chicken
• fried green tomatoes
• cheese grits
• and so on

Then we went to two local bookstores and I signed books.  A secret for you aspiring authors–if you sign books in a store, it makes it harder for the publisher to return them. Such cunning! Oh, and the driver set all this up, it wasn’t even my idea, but it was fun.

And in one of these stores, I bought a copy of the new book of Kurt Vonnegut’s letters. It was so good that I was tempted to cancel my event to read. Almost.

My event was at the Decatur Library, a beautiful place. Actually, all of Decatur looked really cool. Lots of personality. I spoke to a big, eclectic group. There were also some Tourette’s folks there, including Brad Cohen, a true hero of mine, and one of the greatest TS success stories around.

Me and Brad. The guy is legit!

The talk went great and the signing was a lot of fun. The Loopy Librarian made an appearance, and I forced her and her husband to come with us to a nearby cafe before the talk started. She was wonderful, so was he.

No missing family members this time, but I did meet someone who worked for my Grandpa Hanagarne about 55 years ago. I’m just going to start assuming that everyone is related to me or knows my Grandpa.

Then it was back to the W hotel, where our insanely cheerful concierge greeted us as if he’d been struggling to breathe since we left. We watched X Files and fell asleep.

The flight to St. Louis this morning was uneventful, but I had the exit row seat and felt pretty sassy. I read Vonnegut’s letters and did some writing.

On that note–I haven’t talked much about what I’m going to write next, but there will definitely be a children’s series coming, assuming I can sell it. I’m very excited to tell you more when it’s time.

In St. Louis we’re at the Four Seasons. When we arrived, about eight people–most of whom seemed to be stunning blond women of at least 6′ in height–surrounded us, saying hi, opening doors, etc.

I laughed out loud when I saw our room. It is so nice I just keep saying, “What am I doing here?” We’ve got an amazing view of the arch, we’ve got a chaise lounge I have no idea how to lie on, and, prepare yourselves, there is a TV in the bathroom mirror. It just appears like on Minority Report. This might not be news to you, but it is to me.

There’s a safe, too. I don’t have anything valuable to put it in, but I stuck a sock in there for a few minutes just to see how the codes worked. Success!  The sock is safe and sound, and will soon be reunited with its mate, which is currently on my left foot.

Oh, and there’s a bathtub that I can fit it. Me! I am about to take a, I am not kidding, bubble bath, for the first time in about 30 years. Maybe I’ll feel stupid, but I have to try it. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a bathtub I can actually fit in? Me either, but a long time.

I’m actually off tonight, so we’re just going to go eat and then I’m going to write some more. And then I’m going to master this chaise lounge.

We are in Atlanta, sharing a room with a painting of a woman who has a very pointy nose and a butt that looks like she’s been sitting in a mud puddle.  In the dark last night I had the strange feeling that she had jumped off the painting and was running around the room, but perhaps it was only a dream…

The New York trip is over.  Yesterday I did eight radio interviews over the course of about six hours.  I was in a small, soundproof room in the Penguin Media studios. When I sat down, I knew my tics would be bad.  But, a soundproof room!

I tested it out, yelling my head off, involuntarily at first.  Then, when it seemed like people really couldn’t hear me on the other side of the wall, I started yelling, “Help, I’m dying!” to see if I could get a reaction.  My editor said, “They’re probably just too polite to tell you they can hear you.”

I stuck my head out and asked a man working on a laptop, “Hey, can you hear me?”

He said, “Oh yes.  But it’s fine.”

And so I stopped.

Also: we’re in Atlanta at the W Hotel.  It kinds of looks like it was designed by Dr. Seuss. We’re going to feel very “With it,” as our wonderful driver said.  Indeed!

We’re in the handicapped suite, which is identical in every way except there are hand rails everywhere.

I tried on the complimentary robe this morning.  It doesn’t even reach to my elbows.

Also: the USA Today piece just came out.

I did the interview during a lunch by the NYPL library, Main Branch.  Janette, my wife, hates fish more than anything.  When the waitress gave her the rundown of the specials, she said, “Oh, that sounds great, give me the bronzini!” When the bronzini came, alas, it turned out to be two giant pieces of fish. Crestfallen!  But they whisked it away and brought her a nice salad, which she nibbled at like a rabbit.

Also: I got the bulkhead seat on the plane.  It was better than first class.  I literally could not reach the wall in front of me with my foot, and I tried, to the great annoyance of my cramped plane mates.

Also: This morning I ate some peanut butter french toast.  It had about an inch of peanut butter in the middle of it.  Insanely good, but I felt like a huge hog after nibbling at the New York baby portions for three days (they were great, but tiny!)

And: yesterday the man who drove us to the airport in NYC made me laugh so hard.  He had stories about everyone he had ever driven.  He said, “This was fun, I usually get told don’t talk to the clients.” He took credit for many of Chris Rock’s best jokes. And for all I know, he should.

Tonight is the talk and signing in Decatur.  Brad Cohen, founder of camp Twitch and Shout is going to be there, and I can’t wait to meet him.  He does a lot of fantastic work for the Tourette’s community and I’ve looked up to him for years.  It’s going to be a lively night, I guarantee it.

If you are in the area, come on down.  We’re going to have fun.

St. Louis tomorrow!

Hi everyone, I’m in New York on the second night of the actual tour.  I got a couple of pieces of good news today.

1. The Korean translation of The World’s Strongest Librarian just sold. Any bets on what the title will translate to? My editor is convinced it will be called Sassy Boy.

2. The book has already gone back for a second printing, which is wonderful. Thank you all for the support and the purchases.

I also finally got to meet a lot of the sales team and the marketing brains behind the book.  Very smart, very kind people.  Meeting them all has been the best part by far.

My editor made a present for me out of my book–it’s called book folding, I think, and it won’t make any sense until I can get a better picture of it.  More soon.

I also had a wonderful talk with Ron Hogan from The Handsell, ate some very good bagels, was disappointed that the armor exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art was closed today when we were there, and I got eat at Lupa last night, which is a restaurant so good that I don’t even know how to talk about it.  Obscenely good.

Off to Atlanta tomorrow!  Looking forward to seeing some of you there.

I’m about to start reading a memoir called Nine Lives, about a chef who sounds like quite a character.  More to come soon.