September 22, 2010 KKW’s Prologue
Unveiling The Summit’s new literary program
I can think of few things more excruciating than bus rides, waiting rooms, or lunching solo without something to read. I spend a lot of time in transit, and between destinations I find myself stuck in the Mission with 20 minutes to spare, or at the 33 MUNI stop watching the estimated arrival time waver from 18 minutes to 63 minutes. 99% of the time I have a book in my purse, but I have collected hours upon hours reading and then rereading The Guardian and The SF Weekly. Most weeks I can relate to you in great detail what Paul Reidinger thought of the udon at Izakaya Sozei or Dan Savage has to say about maple syrup fetishes.
I love to read. Growing up I probably spent more time with books than I did with other children. My mom would take me to the library once a week and I would bring home as many books as I could carry. I was partial to fantasy and sci-fi (Roald Dahl, Ray Bradbury, Philip Pulman…), and I spent most of my childhood waiting for a doorway to appear in my closet.
When I would run through my library books I moved on to my parent’s – a mix of non-fiction and classic literature. As a teenager I became obsessed with Twee Pop, Riot Grrl, and DIY culture. I was rabidly addicted to Livejournal, wrote terrible poetry, and pieced together equally terrible zines. More than anything in the entire world I wanted to move to San Francisco, work in a cafe, and date a boy in a band.
Fast-forward to today and I live in San Francisco, work in a cafe… and have pretty much given up on dating boys in bands. It’s been a wild ride getting here. I went from couch surfing in Oakland to traveling the country by Greyhound, finally ending up here in San Francisco about four years ago. I started off as a hostess at a now defunct Top 100 restaurant (any guesses?), moved on to become a party promoter, fell into a social media consulting position for a clothing boutique, and have ended up at The Summit, where my job title is “Literary Curator.”
In the last couple of years that I spent falling into jobs and scenes and hangovers, I’d sometimes forget that for most of my life, books were my best friends. For me, running the literary program at The Summit is like peeling away all sorts of strange identities that I’ve adopted in the last few years and finally getting to do what I love to do best, nerd out over books.
I’ve spent the last few months watching The Summit come together. The space keeps filling up with tables, espresso machines, and couches, and more importantly, with people and ideas. My job went from stocking a simple magazine rack, to outlining a literary program that will focus on zines, graphic novels, and other independently published work. Along with compiling a library of zines, I’ve been hunting down magazine back issues and vintage design manuals, and playing with the idea that a collection of literature can be curated much the same way one curates a collection of visual art in a gallery.
As excited as I am about my position at The Summit, I’m also a little scared. I read constantly, but the volume of books, magazines, zines, and comic books out there is astounding. I cannot and will not claim to be the authority on any literary scene, but I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to work with people who know more than myself. I hope that I can make The Summit a welcoming place for readers and writers, and I feel incredibly fortunate to work someplace where I’ll always have something interesting to read.