There are some places in the world whose lore and history spark our imaginations and minds before we ever have a chance to see and experience them for ourselves. Yes, there is the Taj Mahal, the Eiffel Tower, the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Colosseum. But for those of us who love the written word, there are also bookstores that glow with a magical lure rivaling that of the Statue of Liberty or the Great Wall of China.

Editorial assistants Eleni Demetriou and Chris Black unequivocally agree that L.A.’s Book Soup is one of these literary meccas. For Eleni, it was an online find better than the ideal Match.com profile; for Chris, the homing beacon to his road trip from New York City. Their separate accounts on their first encounters with Book Soup read almost like love letters; fortunately for all of us, it’s a love that’s meant to be shared.

-Kyoung Kim

A Book Soup in West Hollywood

There isn’t much that you can do from approximately seven thousand miles away from West Hollywood – except maybe close your eyes and pretend that you’re there.

My fingers danced over the keyboard as I tangoed my way through the different bookstore websites, each one promising a neighbourhood bookshop that “fulfills your inner bookworm.” I’ll admit to rolling my eyes each time I read those words but mostly I just frowned at the amount of independent bookshops that had closed down due to the inability to compete with mega-monsters such as Barnes & Noble. Although I don’t usually discriminate against big chains, something clicked inside of me, and my loyalty was going to lie with a small independent bookshop.

Whichever one that might be.

And that’s when I clicked on Book Soup and its homepage stared at me from my laptop screen.

When certain things are meant to be, you can feel it. When you see something or enter a place, you can tell from the way that your heart will miss a beat or your mouth will twitch, that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. That’s kind of how I felt and that’s when I knew I had found my bookshop.

Boasting existence since 1975, it’s still one of the leading independent (and last surviving) bookshops, its location being at the heart of (and I quote) “the infamous Sunset Strip.” As soon as I read the website’s About Me section, my mind began the scenario creation that it is known for. Truth be told, Book Soup was already high on badass points on my list. Especially as they stock “controversial non-fiction” books too – oh la la!

I took a minute and opened my iTunes – independent bookshops call for indie playlists – and click on Bon Iver to provide me with a soundtrack as I continue my virtual tour of Book Soup. Maybe if I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the back of my eyelids would be my best friend and show me a Book Soup trailer. Maybe if I held my breath instead, I’d feel the different spines underneath my fingertips and smell the books, especially the ones that have yellow pages (and maybe Tom Waits suits Book Soup better anyway).

With floor to ceiling bookcases, signed titles and rare gems, I could feel myself getting giddy – my inner geek was already anticipating our first visit. Nodding to myself, I took a look at their promise of high profile author events. It was a rather impressive lineup and that was only for the next 10 days – and I kind of wished I’d be there for the Marc Wanamaker presentation – so I could only imagine what their monthly calendar looked like. I made a mental note to get to events early as reviews portrayed parking as a nightmare. To be honest, this was West Hollywood and even if I were to take everything that I heard with a pinch of salt, I’d still think of L.A. as a city where everyone drives everywhere.

Kind of like my hometown – sans the Hollywood celebrities.

I pursed my lips as I realised that I may seem a bit star-struck (have you seen Book Soup’s photographs that show off their celebrity clientele?) but there really are so many other books that people read that don’t have Hollywood celebrities as their author. To prove my point, I just used their search engine and stumbled upon a myriad of writers such as Seth Greenland, Mark Z. Danielewski, and Matthew Specktor (to name a few).

I switched between tabs on my internet browser, reading reviews about Book Soup and going on Google maps to find the nearest Starbucks (a mere 300 feet away) and I quickly realised that this was one of the best bookshops I’d never been to. It really did look like a friendly neighbourhood bookshop – just like the ones I had scoffed at minutes before – that looked like a safe haven in the middle of a very busy street. I guess Thomas Jefferson got it right when he said “I cannot live without books,” and this quote can be found on Book Soup’s blog.

Yes, Book Soup really was the best bookshop that I never had the privilege of visiting but it was something I’d look to rectify as soon as I touched down at Los Angeles International.

And I did. The smell, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the great staff, and its amazing location makes Book Soup one of my favourite independent bookstores in Los Angeles.

It’s sometimes the smallest things in life that makes everything worthwhile, and knowing that I have a small escape in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city makes me one happy girl. Book Soup, I’m yours.

Take it away Mr. Waits.

By Eleni Demetriou
an Editorial Assistant for Black Clock and an MFA Writing candidate at CalArts

Recipes in Hollywood Longevity

Book Soup has existed here on the Sunset Strip since 1975. It claims to be one of the few independent bookstores left in the L.A. area and has out-survived, among many things, a large Tower Records that once sat across the street and an entire chain of Borders Bookstores. On this, my first visit to Book Soup, I discover the charm that has kept customers swinging through the front door for 36 years.

Perhaps part of Book Soup’s longevity is due to its place among Hollywood institutions. Hollywood and the Sunset Strip figure prominently in my vision of L.A. as I leave New York, and start through the Rocky Mountain gateway town of Denver and into Phoenix. I drive west along Interstate 10, a straight shot through 115 degree heat, envisioning the longest straightaway in American interstate culture since the Okies caravanning along Route 66, until I wind through downtown on the 110 and exit the 101 at Vermont to end up in Hollywood for a new life in the driven metropolis of L.A.

My path takes me west down Sunset Boulevard, past the vintage aesthetics of Amoeba Music and the Cinerama Dome. The Laugh Factory. The Chateau Marmont – RIP John Belushi – until the Chateau fades away into the theme park appearance of Saddle Ranch. The Comedy Store. Mel’s Drive-In. Book Soup. The Viper Room – images of River Phoenix laying on the curb out front.

I take a cartoonish pan back to the crimped red letters spelling Book Soup, the place I’d been searching for since my final visit to the Strand Bookstore, which in turn claims to be the largest independent bookstore in the world, on Broadway in New York. But the shop on Sunset has a quaint front window, in which I initially see a display of cookbooks, all of which try to tell me a little more about Hollywood. In the window are On Booze, a collection of pieces by F. Scott Fitzgerald, 2000’s Kitchen Confidential by Mr. Anthony Bourdain, the hippest of all traveling chefs, and something called The Hungover Cookbook.

I finally enter. Judging by the name, I had imagined Book Soup to be just as big, just as confusing, and just as unwieldy as the Strand. And in some ways Book Soup does live up to its name. There are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves housing a hodgepodge of seemingly unorganized–at least at first glance–stacks of huge art books for a “really big coffee table,” travel books, “controversial” non-fiction, literary fiction, and the usual paper products such as cards and journals. There are no true paperback novels in Book Soup, and their bestseller list has very little in common with that of the New York Times. The closest thing I saw to a mainstream piece of fiction was George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series. A piece of paper taped to the shelf reads, “It’s not TV, it’s Book Soup.”

But after circling the aisles a few times, I begin to see the organization, highlighted with a tremendous amount of handwritten notes – “HEY! Look at all this stuff!” – pointing in recommended directions. Sandwiched between sections on WWII and sports, a staff recommendation reads, “Check out this section for all you need to know about Marijuana.”

After such a long journey, it would be a crime to enter such a place and leave empty-handed, so I decide on a recent Chris Andrews translation of Roberto Bolaño titled The Skating Rink and a book by a French author named Boris Vian. This second translation, titled To Hell with the Ugly, is in the travel section, ironically filed under City of Angels. When I finally reach the register and hand the books to the blonde woman behind the counter, she seems genuinely impressed with my selections and actually talks to me about them. This certainly never happened at the Strand, and I realize there still exists a bookstore where the staff is not only as in love with books as their customers are, but actually pride themselves on being helpful – how wonderful to see an example of why Borders got too big for its britches.

As if I weren’t already smitten by her conversation, according to this elegant bookseller I had found a diamond in the rough. Although there are further stacks of the Vian book on a front table, as if the store is pushing it, I think, so what if they are?  It’s just another reason the store is special. The woman points to the back offices and tells me that another Book Soup employee, Tosh Berman, the book buyer/ publisher of TamTam books, has an exclusive to sell this French, Hollywood, Noir book. And again I get the feeling that I am experiencing something unique. The woman asks me if I have a Bolaño recommendation, and when I tell her I think Amulet is a good place to start, she actually seems to take me seriously. I get the impression she will tell her next customer what I have said. And how cool is that? Very cool.

By Chris Black
an Editorial Assistant for Black Clock and an MFA Writing candidate at CalArts