Hearing Filipa’s story and about her work as a journalist got me thinking about a lot of things: what it might be like to live in an in-between space; how to encourage trust and safety when it comes to hearing a person’s story; and those teachers in our early years who changed our lives. I mean, just check how awesome a piano teacher Filipa once had.
(And you’re all invited to the store on Canadian Independent Bookstore Day on Saturday April 27 when we’ll celebrate all the customers we’ve interviewed in Our Regulars over the past year.)
— Max
On interviewing booksellers in her own journalism:
Partly because it's an interest of mine, and partly because it is timely. In today's discussions about the importance of storytelling and the privileging of certain narratives over others, there's a crucial need for spaces like libraries, literary cafés, and bookstores—whether they specialize in old or new books—to serve as communal hubs where one can discover and engage with different narratives and step out of their own world for a little while to learn about other perspectives. These spaces are about cultivating environments where everyone can feel seen, free from categorization. That's what I’m drawn to.
Booksellers and librarians play a significant role in this realm. While some might view them as gatekeepers, I'm inclined to see them more as guardians or facilitators of access. I feel a kinship with those who prioritize granting access over restricting or hoarding or keeping it to themselves.
That said, let’s not negate the fact that bookselling is a business. It can be a very transactional relationship: somebody comes in, they pick up a book, they pay for it, and they leave. Yet, there's potential for these interactions to transcend mere commerce. This is where indie bookstores like TYPE Junction shine. Each transaction becomes a relationship-building opportunity. You’re learning about the person behind the counter, what they’re reading, and how they feel about it. You reciprocate. Next thing you know, you’re sharing interests and ideas and bonding over words that move you.
On falling in love… with a story:
My parents are big readers and, when I was little, I loved to be read to. The only way to get me to pay attention to anything at all was by way of telling me a story.
My family is from former Yugoslavia, and we had to leave because of the war. We moved to the only place where my dad could find employment within his profession, which was Ukraine. When we arrived, my parents did their best to keep us busy and occupied. Since we couldn’t afford much, it was thanks to the generosity and compassion of the people there that we were able to experience a semblance of childhood and engage in typical kid activities. One of these kind-hearted individuals ended up becoming my piano teacher, Elena. She quickly realized that the only way to capture my attention and keep me still was through storytelling. Interestingly, she chose to narrate Greek myths, which eventually became the foundation of my piano lessons.
She shared with me the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice: how Orpheus journeyed into the underworld (descending scale) to rescue his beloved Eurydice, how they began their ascent back to the world of the living (ascending scale), and tragically, how his impulsive act of looking back (major to minor notes transition) led to Eurydice's loss.
It's wild, you know, I'm 35 now and this was 30 years ago, and it's still so fresh in my mind. She opened up a whole new world for me. I think about Elena all the time. A wonderful, warm person. The piano didn’t stick, but the stories she told, and how she told them, will stay with me forever.
On the value of the story of the individual:
I'm interested in people and their stories. There's so much that you can glean from just an hour of conversation. So much to discover by asking what their life is like, how they navigate challenges, what they dream about, what they fear. What loneliness looks like, what joy feels like. To understand society is to understand the individual experience of it. Everyone has a story, even if they don’t find themselves interesting or think of their lives as interesting. That part breaks my heart because I believe that everyone has a story to tell.
It's often easy to become overwhelmed by the enormity of certain issues, almost mythologizing them in our minds, making them seem impossible to confront or navigate. However, by zooming in on the individual human experiences within these grand narratives, we demystify them. It's through these personal stories that the struggles, conflicts, and wars become tangible and real. Distance can lead to detachment, but by sharing the stories of those directly impacted, we are compelled to empathize and understand their reality. It's crucial for us to cultivate empathy, understanding, patience, and grace toward one another if we are to foster hope for a better future. Oh my God, that is such a hippie answer!
On applying journalistic ethics to interviews with our customers:
The most important thing to remember is that when someone shares their story with you, they're entrusting you with something deeply personal. It's an act of vulnerability and trust. It’s important to create a safe space for them to express themselves. This means checking in throughout the conversation, allowing them the option to take a moment to consider their responses or to decline to answer altogether. It also involves a follow-up at the end of the conversation, asking if there were any points of discomfort, or topics they found too personal or private to discuss further. It's also vital to clarify the purpose of the conversation and who will have access to the information shared. Personally, when I entrust someone with my story, I value regular check-ins to ensure my comfort and consent. Ultimately, it's about giving people agency over how their life stories are told.
And these customer interviews beautifully exemplify my earlier point about transcending mere commerce. You’re taking an interest in the people who walk through your doors. I’m learning about you as you’re learning about me.
On a book about the experience of the in-between:
As an immigrant, I’ve often grappled with feelings of disconnection, perpetually searching belonging. It’s this funny feeling of existing in an in-between space, neither here nor there, simultaneously from somewhere and from nowhere.
One contemporary novel that portrays this sense of in-betweenness is Katie Kitamura’s Intimacies. Kitamura explores the layers of in-betweenness, both personal and professional, that define the protagonist's life. The protagonist, an unnamed polyglot woman, navigates a complex existence as an interpreter for the International Criminal Court in The Hague. Amid an ambiguous relationship with a married yet separated man, where their togetherness is defined by his frequent absences, she finds herself bearing witness to the extremes of human behavior. Within a predominantly black-and-white institutional setting, she interprets far more than mere words, navigating the intricate nuances of human interaction.
It's such an interesting novel because it also delves into the meaning of language, highlighting the intricacies and inevitable losses inherent in the act of translation. I like how it captures the discomfort and disorientation of existing in the in-between that I think resonates with the immigrant experience.