Gianna's Thoughts on the Passing of a Bookselling Legend

Two weeks ago longtime bookseller David Thompson of Murder By the Book passed away unexpectedly. Yesterday a celebration of his life was held at the Briar Club in Houston and hundreds of people--including authors such as Lee Child and Robert Crais--gathered to pay respects, drink margaritas, and swap David stories. Gianna was unable to attend, so she composed this piece to be read at the gathering if there was the opportunity. Because the...party? wake? shindig?...was pretty informal and no one spoke, such an opportunity did not arise. Therefore, we are sharing her tribute to our friend David in this space. Here is what she wrote:

It’s been an incredibly difficult couple of weeks; just when I think the shock will wear off it just doesn’t. In the first few days after David’s death I found myself continually looking at his and the Murder by the Book Facebook pages – you’ve all seen the dozens and dozens of posts – everyone from famous bestselling authors to book lovers who never met David in person, it is truly remarkable. There was another post on Sept. 15th that I have thought about every single day – often more than once a day – it is a post that took strength, grace, kindness and enormous generosity. It simply read, “Thank you all,” and it was posted by McKenna. Just to know she felt us with her helped a little bit.

I am proud to work in books – proud of the way the staff at Blue Willow, Book People, and Sally at Brazos across the street (who knew David so long), and even stores across the country reached out. The staff at Murder by the Book has been, I have no words, very strong I guess, a real tribute to David. Anne, we depended on you for news, and everything else. I don’t know how you did it. This news truly rocked Random House, I got calls from editors and publicists – some crying on the phone. Ours is a business, and often the participants in the business of publishing books are required to be tough, consummate professionals, but my god they loved David. We really are a family – the kind of family that can’t borrow cash from each other because you know – we all work and books and make crappy money!

Now I want to talk about David possibly being a cross dresser. When someone dies, events, conversations, break down into such small moments for me – and I have been really focused on one in particular. One day, not too terribly long ago, David said, pretty casually, more casually than one would expect from anyone else but he said, “I sometimes accidently wear McKenna’s clothes to work.” I should point out that we weren’t in a confessional or even alone. McKenna, Brenda (David’s mother in law) and I were all in the back talking about I don’t know what but I am sure the topic wasn’t wearing each others clothes. Anyway, I said “What do you mean?” and David went on to say that McKenna buys these oversized Oxford shirts she likes to lounge around in and sometimes when he is in a hurry he just grabs one and goes to work, and later at some point McKenna will see him and say in a sort of sad but not totally surprised voice, “Oh David… that’s my shirt.” So I asked David if he has done it more than once and he was pretty proud to say yes, definitely more than once he “accidently” wore his wife’s clothes. I pointed out that once was an accident, twice was unfortunate and you know more than that is just cross dressing. Brenda had her back to David and I remember so so clearly looking at her and she was organizing books sort of shaking her head and had the sweetest smile on her face, and just by looking at her you knew she adored this guy. That’s one of my favorite moments, McKenna and I laughing – tears in my eyes, Brenda with that sweet smile and David trying to convince us it wasn’t weird.

One last thing. I last saw David on Sept 9th at the store, I just stopped in to chat and joke around for a bit and David talked about how excited he was to meet Dean Koontz in October. I was about to leave and then in the frantic passionate voice we all know from David he said, “wait wait come here!” We went to a shelf he picked up a book handed it to me and insisted I would love it. And that was that. . The last time I saw David he put a book in my hand – pretty perfect.

A Loss in Book Land

Earlier this week the book world suffered a major blow when longtime bookseller David Thompson passed away unexpectedly. David worked at Murder By the Book in Houston, one of the country's preeminent mystery bookstores, for 21 years--his entire adult life--and to call him a legend in the industry is not an exaggeration.

I don't know how to comprehend this tragedy. Others knew him better, longer, shared more in common. Still, I miss him. His death seems so terribly unfair. I grieve for him and for the pain felt by his family, friends, and everyone who ever came into contact with him. To know David was to love him.

I knew of "David at Murder By the Book," as my sales reps referred to him in telling me stories, back when I was a buyer at BookPeople and long before I ever met him. Someone so respected and with so much experience--I was shocked when I finally did meet him (in my capacity as a rep for Random House) years later, shocked that David was my age, in his 30's. The book industry by-and-large is a world populated primarily by an old guard of the stalwarts who've run the best stores and the best presses for decades, and then another group of the young booksellers making less than $10 an hour hocking their favorites while figuring out what to do with their lives. David was that rare individual who was experienced but not embittered, young but not looking for "a real job," a man who'd found his love as a 17 year old stocking shelves at a mystery bookstore and made it his life.

Another first impression of David: Gianna and I were escorting one of our New York bosses to stores around Texas, and because we were in Houston we took her to Murder By the Book. At the time, MBTB was a telephone sales account, so I wasn't actually selling to the store and felt a little awkward walking through the door as a stranger...who only lived three blocks away. I needn't have worried. David was in his element and swept all of us into a tour of the store and a discussion of his favorite books, and ours. I wasn't a mystery reader and worried that I would be lost in his world, but the opposite was the case. He accepted everyone, drew out others' passions, and found commonalities to bond people together. In his delightful dorkiness and infectious enthusiasm, it was impossible to feel out of place in his company and in the store. That visit was also special because David and MBTB's new owner McKenna Jordan were about to fly to Scotland to get married, and both of them were giddy about the trip and their obvious love for each other.

When I moved to Houston a year earlier after I accepted the Random House job, I despaired at my disconnection to people in the city; I worked from home but travelled frequently, I don't like organized social gatherings, I didn't have a preexisting group of friends. I had met a few booksellers and eased into a new life straddling my new, isolated life in Houston and my old life in Austin with my friends. David and McKenna unknowingly acted as a bridge between these worlds. They made me feel welcome, they laughed at the same things, they worried about the same issues (to be in your 30's and looking at the rapid changes in the industry and ponder your chances for a career in this business--it's a daunting vision of the future). I counted them as friends. I loved giving David a hard time--he and McKenna joined Gianna and me for an Astros game earlier this year and David insisted that McKenna bring a glove to protect him from foul balls--and he loved the exchanges.

I have never met a more passionate bookseller than David Thompson. He possessed an innocence in his boyish enthusiasm for what he loved--books, authors, and sharing the joy of reading--that was entirely unique and beautiful. David was supposed to attend a dinner the night of his death, a dinner I was hosting along with a group of people representing Other Press, and I'd specifically wanted him there because everyone in the industry needed to know him and know that the written word had such passionate advocates. He was loved by his customers, he was loved by his sales reps, he was loved by the publicists with whom he booked signings, he was loved by the authors, he was loved by his fellow booksellers, and he was loved by family and friends. I am a better person, a better book rep, and a better reader because I knew David Thompson, even if only for a couple of years. I've missed him every day this week, and I don't anticipate the longing to see an email pop up in my inbox or hear his voice on my phone to ease any time soon.

Read a mystery in David's memory this weekend and drink a margarita. He would have liked that.