We know how much you like Subway sandwiches and that you are particularly motivated by the $5 footlong and its enchanting anthem. We know that you eat twelve of them each year, spending approximately $60 to fill your belly on a dozen happy occasions with good, nourishing processed meat products on relatively fresh bread. We do not begrudge you this repast, but wonder if we might suggest an alternative means of allocation for those same funds, one which would nourish your heart and mind if not your legs and arms.
I’m writing today with a bit of an appeal. If you have enjoyed reading what we have to say on The Barnstorming (or now Idiots’Blog), why not become a subscriber and see what Idiots’Books is really all about? A subscription consists of six books a year for $60 (a number that bears uncanny resemblance to your yearly Subway budget) sent directly to your home along with an irreverent, newsy letter (kind of like this blog, but better). If you hate getting funny, unique, beautifully illustrated, brilliant, and lowbrow books in the mail, perhaps you know someone else who might be less opposed to such things? In our humble (though not unbiased) opinions, a subscription to Idiots’Books makes an outstanding holiday gift to that friend, relative, or colleague who seems to have everything else (why merely resent these people when you can make their lives even more charmed?).
Ok, ok. You are a smart, sensible, consumer who likes to see what he is getting before relinquishing the almighty dollar. We get it. We respect that. Here’s what our subscribers have received over the past year, just to give you a sense of what we won’t be sending them in the year to come.
That which goes up must come down. Sometimes a rough landing is made tolerable by the breathtaking views that precede it. This fine concoction is, in fact, an album combining pictures and words and music—the latter coming from our friends at Bombadil. If you are the cautious type, have a listen here to make sure that you like it first.
This illustrated interview with a guy named Bill tests the boundaries of nonfiction and uses a whole lot of green ink. It starts with a sweet potato and ends with a sweet potato, and in between the whole wide sweep of mankind’s dark compulsions is revealed. (A collaboration with fiddle-playing novelist Brian Francis Slattery.)
As childhood ends, we all confront its opposite. The schoolyard is our battlefield. We are armed with our imaginations. The war that ensues is civil to the end, bloodless, but not without its casualties. If only we could have built a better catapult. If only kids were strong enough and wise enough to stay that way.
The maritime adventures of a profoundly unlucky man, this book is most compelling for the fact that it is not a book. Letterpress printed on pure cotton and produced in a limited edition of 300, this is what happens when Robbi finds her bad self alone with a Vandercook.
What happens when the lease runs out on the fairy tale ending? Augment your childhood traumas by finding out what really happened to Snow White and Goldilocks. Classified as Brilliant and Lowbrow by New York magazine, this book contains ten illustrated tales that may be recombined in ten thousand ways.
We’re not much for the hard sell, so we’ll leave it at that. You are, of course, welcome to go on reading about our home, child, books, and misadventures to your heart’s content while remaining well-plied with footlong sandwiches. But if you have ever been curious about these books you’ve been hearing so much about or if you fear the outlet mall and would just as soon take care of your holiday shopping here and now with a few easy clicks, start here to see your troubles fade away (like the bread crumbles, olives, and banana pepper bits left over once your footlong Subway is gone).