Welcome to my pretentious open diary

Moontime began today. I've got tea, pain relief cream, and some cloth pads as extra backup while I use period underwear.

My well-meaning friend, Sre, messaged me saying that she was sorry if this would bring up any negative feelings for me, but she knew mid-20th-century writers are my jam, and would help me shop for them when she was in my city. She attached a picture, and I didn't process it correctly at first, because it was a shelf full of Persephone Books. I assumed it was a picture from Persephone Books themselves, since they have a store full of shelves of just their books. I thought she was offering to buy one for me and bring it with her when she came here. I told her that she was sweet, and right about them being my jam, and also that after years of being unable to pick up a book without pain related to the bookstore that broke my heart, referred to on this journal as Spinebreaker, it was books like these–Virago green books that were out of print, and Persephone Books which are unavailable in my country, that helped me read again, specifically because I knew Spinebreaker would never be able to stock them. The owner had said that she was trying to bring Persephone Books to her store and wasn't able to get distribution here, and that was a few years ago.

Sre said she didn't know getting them here had been a challenge–and that's when I realise that the picture she had sent me was of Persephone Books stocked in Spinebreaker, and that's when I realise that she didn't know that I didn't clock it.

I've posted here before about moments when I was at risk of relapsing and didn't, and how far I've come and all that. Well... this particular moment is a struggle for me. I've been struggling with sorrow, suffocating waves of them, because... this is a bit like that moment when I visited Spinebreaker for the first time, saw Barbara Comyns on the shelves, and thought it must be A Sign because I had never seen her books here before. A whole shelf of just Persephone Books, in MY COUNTRY not to mention my city? It seems like a miracle. It was something I didn't think was realistic. Just like that whole damned bookstore, just like seeing Barbara Comyns stocked there, just like the chance to work there... it was just never realistic.

At the moment, I happen to be reading Amelia's Intrigue by Judith A. Lansdowne. It's sweet, gentle, cosy, funny and endearing. A perfect comfort reading. It's also out of print so Spinebreaker can never stock it, so there. I'm enjoying it.

When I was bringing myself back into reading I picked up books that would never be stocked at Spinebreaker, or so I thought. Books the owner couldn't get, books that were out of print, and books that were independently published or books she doesn't want to put on her shelves. I got to read some amazing indie books by friends on DW. I also bounced off quite a few books that are made for the indie market but not made for me, just not the sorts of books I enjoy.

The thing is, I imprinted so hard on Spinebreaker because of the books in it. I identified with it so hard because of how it's curated. This means that a book that is stocked there is highly likely to be a book I'll enjoy and a book that's not stocked there is not likely to be a book I'll enjoy. That sucks. But it is what it is.

I have to be okay reading books that are also stocked in Spinebreaker. I have to enjoy them without pausing for pain. I have to get to that point, and I guess I'm frustrated that I'm not there, that I've not healed completely so that there's no chance of feeling all that hurt all over again. It's also the kind of thing that very few of my friends IRL understand, because it just seems trivial to them, like they don't understand why it's been affecting me so much. So I'm glad I can journal about it here.

I'm touched that Sre thought of me when she saw the sorts of books I love, so I don't resent her bringing this up. I would have found out eventually. Because most people I know, including my closest friends, go there regularly and they have talked about the books they've gotten there without me feeling like this because those were books that were accessible otherwise as well, and available elsewhere. But I bet I would have heard about these at some point.

Sre said she could take me to Spinebreaker when she's in my city, if it would help me if she's there. I thanked her and told her I'd rather not go as I don't feel welcome there. I mean, the owner blocked me, lol. She said that instead she could go buy me a Persephone Book from there, but I really don't want to give Spinebreaker any money. Since all of the authors of Persephone Books are dead, I'll pirate them if I can't access them any other way. I love the publisher though and will buy their ebooks when possible; they don't publish most of their books as ebooks, which I think is a pity, but they do have a few in ebook format. I bought Diana Tutton's Guard Your Daughters that way, and of course they've made Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson available as an ebook, since it's their star title.