Image courtesy of: http://www.thebookcon.com/Media/BookCon-Logo/
As I followed a small crush of people down a long concrete hallway, I noticed two girls stuffing paperbacks into a large rolling suitcase. They were laughing about the weight of the bag and the thought of hauling it home on the subway. They weren’t particularly concerned about the endless flow of people rushing past them. They were already in line.
I was at BookCon in New York City, heading to the back of a line to see a panel about Jonathan Tropper’s book-turned-movie, This is Where I Leave You. I came to BookCon because I am what NPR editor Linda Holmes calls a “Book Girl”. According to Holmes, Book Girls (and Book Boys and Book Women and Book Men and Book People of All Ages and Genders) grew up on J.K. Rowling, love trilogies and dark stories, and get as excited about authors as we do about musicians and movie stars.
She’s not wrong. I once met R.L. Stine on the Washington Mall as part of the National Book Festival. I can still feel the heat that crept into my cheeks as I stumbled and stuttered about just how much 10-year-old me loved One Day in Horrorland.
That was years ago. Now, I’m at the Javits Center, at the end of another long line. There were over 2,000 of us Book Fans in line for a panel featuring Veronica Roth (Divergent) and Alex London (Proxy). I ended up chatting with the girl who was standing ahead of me. Her name was Sophia. She’s a Book Fan.
Sophia lives in Brazil, and flew to New York specifically for BookCon. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I work for an airline,” she reassured me. “I only had to pay $60 round trip.”
“Who did you come to see?” I asked as I mulled over picking up a second job in exchange for cheap international airfare.
“John Green,” she said with a smile. “He’ll never come to Brazil, so I figured, why not?”
We talked about our favorite Green novel (Papertowns), her thoughts on the World Cup, and the joy and struggle of traveling with a suitcase full of stories. We said goodbye when we got to the panel, we sat, we watched Roth and London talk about the importance of examining and owning their own privilege through their characters, we cheered when it ended, we streamed back into the crowded convention center.
Part of the pain and joy of conventions is waiting in line. At least in San Diego they get to wait in the sunshine! Image courtesy of: http://commons.wikimedia.org
Wandering the halls and joining the lines, I met other Book Fans. A book blogger from Texas, a grad student from D.C., a favorite HPA staffer and vlogger. Conversation was easy the way it always is among fans with a shared geeky passion. It doesn’t matter that we don’t know each other; if you’re in this line, you’re my Hogwarts Housemate, my Enterprise crewmember, my TARDIS companion. You’re my community.
The lines at BookCon were long because our community is huge. Even as pundits bemoan the state of reading, fans are flocking to theaters to see movies that make it big because they were beloved books first. Fans who grew up on Harry Potter pack the theaters for Hunger Games. They fill their pockets with tissues for The Fault in Our Stars and take pictures for Esther Day. They celebrate National Novel Writing Month and LeakyCon. They make fan art and fanfiction. They fill convention centers, Tumblr, and Twitter.
Though reading is mostly a solitary activity, Book Fans are never alone. You don’t have to count “Okay? Okay.” tee-shirts at a convention to understand that.
HPA members donated a record-shattering, mind-boggling 53,009 books during Accio Books! this year. We did it together, as chapters, as fans, as friends on the internet. We did it with other Book Fans – our friends and family, our classmates and co-workers, and strangers who had never heard of the HPA. Many strangers came together to share 53,009 stories. Who knows how many people those stories will touch? How many strangers will pass the book you donated down a line of their family and friends? It doesn’t even matter that they’re strangers. That’s what fandom is. You’re in the line. You’re my community.