So this book of mine, which was published in late 2010, is now officially a limited edition item. In August, as we were unpacking boxes, I got a phone call from my editor, who informed me that the press was shutting down. We offloaded most of the stock to Small Press Distribution, and some copies to Amazon, and then I got about twenty copies in the mail as my editor cleaned out the stockroom. Now forty-four copies live in the little cubby under the television, because I enjoy being scorned by poetry while I watch endless episodes of House Hunters International.
I'm reading at my alma mater, Fredonia, soon and today I got the following email from the bookstore:
The number of books that we seem to need is 146.
I know that lots of presses close down, and that there are many, many writers out there with boxes of their old stock sitting in their parents' basements (my thesis adviser handed out free copies of his own memoir), so I suppose this is the better option. But still, this situation is just sort of dumb. It's not the press's fault; it's not the bookstore's. I'm grateful that so many classes at Fredonia are requiring the text.
Poo for timing. On the bright side, if you own a copy of BICHN, that shit is limited edition! Street value is between fifty-seven and sixty-four dollars.
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