Used Books in the Rabbit Room
I might as well tell you my dream for this place.
It has to do with what is possibly the greatest smell in the world. I find the musty odor of a bookstore–preferably a used bookstore–delightful. It is to me the smell of adventure; it’s the aroma of mystery and knowledge; it stirs in me a boyish wonder that renders the world around me in richer hues, the hours of the day suddenly fraught with possibility and romance. It helps me to believe that that storytelling Jesus just might be more alive and real than I ever dreamed.
That sounds overly dramatic, I realize, but it’s a weak attempt to explain what stories do to me. I get a similar feeling when the lights go dark in the movie theater, or when the children laugh at the marionette show at the library, or when I utter the first words to the first song in a concert. It happens when I savor the first few pages of a new book–first the cover, then the title page, the prologue or introduction, and finally the thrill of the first two words of pretty much every tale: Chapter One.
I love chapter one.
Before the Rabbit Room ever became a website, I built in my imagination a stone-brick cottage with a red round-topped door. A shingle hung above the door bearing a picture of a bespectacled rabbit with a pipe dangling from his mouth. The sign read,
THE RABBIT ROOM
and beneath it,
BOOKSTORE AND TAVERN.
When you pushed open the red door and walked in, that smell I was telling you about would wash over you and you’d see rows and rows of books, a fire burning in the hearth, people at tables sipping cider or coffee. Maybe an author or songwriter is sitting in the corner by the window teaching about creativity and Christ, about changing the world with light, love, and music infused with the Gospel.
Beyond the aisles of books you’d come upon a smaller doorway, small enough that a grownup would have to stoop to pass through–a reminder that you must grow young to enter the Kingdom–and you would find yourself in a room full of children’s books. Someone in a rocking chair is reading to a circle of boys and girls about King David and Mephibosheth, or Lucy and Eustace, or Hazel and Fiver on Watership Down. The children sit on the floor beneath the bowers of a tree that seems to grow out of the walls and into the ceiling.
Down the hall are private rooms where people are alone with their thoughts, writing, drawing, excavating the final lyric to a song; all of them are stoking a holy fire that they hope will give someone hope in their darkness, even if that someone is them.
That’s my vision for the Rabbit Room. If you build it, they will come.
But I’m not a rich man, and I don’t know how to build that building. I figured I’d start the discussion here, let it grow organically into what the Lord wants it to be. Maybe he means for the round-topped door to be dark green. I’m fine with that.
Until that zillionaire tracks me down, though, the RabbitRoom.com is the next-best-thing. Hundreds and hundreds of people every day have been coming here to read, to discuss, to support writers and artists who are committed to using their gifts to proclaim freedom to the captives.
I say all that to say this: we’re now selling used books. Since I haunt used bookstores anyway, I’m going to keep an eye out for the titles we recommend here, along with other books that we think you’ll love. I just found a few copies of Gilead, Mere Christianity, and Peace Like a River, all books that come highly recommended by the Rabbit Room contributors.
If you happen to find any used copies of the titles we’ve talked about here and want to donate them to the Rabbit Room, send an email to rabbitroomstore@gmail.com and we’ll figure out how to get the books and give you a free download in return.
Like I said, I’m making this up as I go, so we’ll see how it works.
Thanks for stopping in.
Don’t bump your head on the way out.
AP
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
This is perfect. The Rabbit Room has become a haven to me in the couple of months that I’ve been stopping in every day.
I’m in.
I’m so in.
I’ll be extra-vigilant for well-loved good books.
What fun!
I love it! This is a tremendously cool idea Andy! I’m looking forward to being a regular customer.
you have got me all misty eyed. oh how i miss the smell of a great library! the silence as i read! I’ll bring the coffee if you bring the room!
What has been created here in this Rabbit Room has been my safe harbour for the few months I have been reading. However, in a few minutes I am off to a local lumberyard to find that perfect piece of lumber for the sign.
What about a book sharing program? If you donate a book from the recommended list you can receive another book from the recommended list? Or you can just purchase a book outright. Just a thought.
If I ever win the lottery, I will build your room. Until then, I’m glad to help build this one.
Or what if you received Rabbit Room Store credit for donated books?
great idea. love the whole post by the way.
Definitely something with store credit or a book for a book! Great ideas! Wow this is gonna be sweet!
Brilliant… you can bet when I am back in the states in the summer, I will be purchasing a boatload of Rabbit Room used books… or maybe getting a list of books and hunting through the used book stores in Cbus. Also, google Kaldi’s Coffee House and Over the Rhine to check out a cool place in Cinci that is a similar idea, though maybe not so Christ-centered.
Nice idea. I just spent about 10 hours yesterday moving stuff we had in storage into the shed at our new place. And, to be honest, about 80% of it was books and bookshelves! We plan on going through each box, one at a time, but I just can’t throw away a book. But, I could give several of them away to the RR as long as I knew they’d be read and appreciated. Maybe I’ll make a list when we inventory them and send it along. A lot more of it is theological than narrative, but perhaps there’s an audience for that kind of material here?
i crave good books…being an English major and all, but i must admit that my medical education has all but ruined my ability to read much (really only about a book a month). so i am delighted by what you suggest, the community you have built here, and the suggestions on stuff to read (i have never heard of many of the “best books of 2007″ mentioned). thanks, from a fellow believer in parables!
Thanks, AP, for sharing the vision.
I’ve hung out in one of those rooms down the hall lately, gratefully. My dad passed away just before Christmas, and I spent several days of my bereavement leave “Waking Mark McCoy” with you all here, and listening to my AP smart playlist.
Thanks again. Daddy would have loved The Rabbit Room, too.
PS. And if you haven’t seen Waking Ned Devine, you really should.
I’m still trying to make it fit Pete’s earlier theolovision post….
I am glad someone else loves that smell! What a great post! Thanks for sharing.
I’m stuck in the valley in a snowstorm tonight and can’t leave the office. The Rabbit Room is a great place to be if I can’t be home putting the kids to bed. The smell of used books was one of the things that helped to bring my group of c losest friends together in college. There were planty of early Saturday mornings that we would sit up in a big live oak and read together and learn from each other. My wife and I spent a fair part of our first year of marriage reading our favorite books to each other. Thanks for helping to recreate some of those feelings. And thanks for helping me to learn. I’m a rabid reader but not a particularly great thinker. The RR, AP, Gullahorn, and all the posters and commenters. Thanks.
If that cottage were real I’d spend an inordinate portion of my waking hours haunting its insides.
Love the smell of books.
If the door must be dark green, put a brass knob right in the middle.
If it did physically exist, where would we put it? Would the location be secret and known to only a few for fear of people who strive to ruin good things, or would it be an open place where people of all beliefs and creeds could meet and talk?
Seems that most people here are hopeless romantics for fairy tales and fantastic stories. I consider it a good thing.
How’s a Rabbit Room Book Club feel to any of you out there?
I’m sure some great discussions would result as we crack open those musty, worn, (or new) books together.
It would be interesting to take the journey with friends.
And what book would we start with?
Rabbit Room sure is cozy. Thanks to all!
Andrew, I so agree with you about loving books, especially OLD books. There is just something cool about the way they look on your shelf.
I will definitely be checking out the used books here on the site from time to time.
I appreciate your insights and for sharing your ideas. The Rabbit Room is fast becoming a favorite site.
Andie
Dude, I am digging this! I want in! I love the idea. It is winter here in MI and I can totally see reading good books by a fire with Andrew Peterson and friends from the RR! Thanks for the dream!
Well, in my little feeble brain this sounds a lot like heaven. If it could be nestled on the peak of a mountain so the wilderness of the mind could retreat to the outdoors every now and again, I definitely think it would be pretty close to heaven.
Hey Andrew, I emailed rabbitroomstore@gmail.com but never heard back. I could just be impatient though! I’m getting ready to move, and this will be a perfect time for me to sort through all of the multiple copies of my favorite books that I buy “just in case” and send some to the Rabbit Room. But, of course, maybe you all are still working out the details. Thanks!
I loved this piece. I can’t stop smelling the aroma of the pages. Musty, yes, but remembered by me simply as the scent of books.. of adventure. I used to love visiting the library as a child for just that smell. I would spend hours wandering up and down aisles trying to select the perfect book to read. Somehow I always felt lead to “the one”. Seldom was I disappointed. Ahh, spending leisurely Sunday afternoons drifting through the pages as I explored the rabbit hole with Alice. Thank you for the nostalgic visit.