Just as John Masefield’s classic poem “Sea Fever” captures the ocean’s age-old call, Lewis Buzbee defines the equally seductive attraction of the bookstore. Whether a sea of books or a large body of water, the siren call that each exerts is undeniable.
–Robert Walch, SFGAte
I’ll admit I haven’t read the book yet, it’s in my stack. I kind of want to get Lewis to autograph the thing first. But this book covers a lot of my old stomping grounds, Upstart Crow and Company in Campbell, Printers Inc. in Palo Alto; stores where my mother worked (She and Lewis were co workers, as well as life-long friends, and my mother is a key character in Lewis’ book).
I remember Lewis as the snide, intimidatingly funny almost-big-brother who used to go to rock concerts with us, who’d sit around smoking dope and playing trivial pursuit all night with my brother and I and my aunt. He was one of the people who made me want to be a writer, and one of the first people, outside the group of erotica writers I know, to whom I showed Wanton to; one of the people who told me that I wasn’t just a guy who could write hot porn, but that maybe I was actually as writer.
Here’s to Lewis, who’s been working for that dream since he was a teenager – the dream of being a writer. You’re there, man, and no two ways about it.