I see in the NYT business section today, which I get to read with my morning coffee, which is in fact tea, because my husband gets up first, fetches the paper from the porch, pitched there before daybreak by the delivery woman who will also clean our condo if we wish, though hopefully not before daybreak, unless she can do it absolutely silently and without visiting the bedroom, extracts it from its blue plastic bag and peruses the front page while he makes himself a bowl of oatmeal, leaving me the business section and also sports, a constant source of annoyance because of its virtually total ignoring of women, except during tennis season,
are you still following?
that Amazon has gobbled up a website called Goodreads. I hadn't heard of Goodreads, but it seems to be a site that publishes book reviews, maybe a crowd-sourced book club. Maybe I should have looked into Goodreads before I began writing this, but the idea wasn't appealing. I did know that Amazon was having a spot of trouble with its own book reviews, what with authors paying people to review their books and so forth. Perhaps Goodreads was a lovely site for lovely people who read lovely books and share their lovely reviews with other lovely book-reading folk. Like Red Room, which began here in the Bay Area some years ago and which I heard about at a literary do and immediately signed up for and have always enjoyed being part of, or maybe having access to, would be closer to the truth. But if Amazon, now also here in the Bay Area, is swimming around with its big jaws wide open swallowing up all the smaller fish and Red Room is the next one (financially nice no doubt for the owners--are there owners? I'd just assumed a community, but this is probably naive, I see now, belatedly, it's just that I heard about it from a friend of the person who started it, as I recall, but perhaps I recall wrong)--I wonder what I will do, since I really don't, even though I order books from them and also, just this week, an alarm clock and a month ago some stainless steel mixing bowls and a hair product because my son gets free two-day delivery including to our address, want to become part of the Amazon Empire. The only thing that might change my mind about this is if they offered a publishing subsidy, as they sometimes do; for example, I see in the front matter of a new collection by one of my favorite poets, Marianne Boruch, The Book of Hours (I recommend), that Copper Canyon Press up in Washington State is supported by Amazon; to CBeditions, which just this month has published an exceptionally original and exceptionally digressive book of poetry called Mortality Rate by one Andrew Elliott. But Elliott's digressions are into the world of fantasy. They are like small movies by Bunuel.