I went to Montreal with my friend Jackie and here’s a video of some of the things we did in the city!
The song is “Doses & Mimosas” by Cherub.
I went to Montreal with my friend Jackie and here’s a video of some of the things we did in the city!
The song is “Doses & Mimosas” by Cherub.
On a drizzly November day, stepping off Green Street into Papercuts, Jamaica Plain’s independent bookstore, is like walking to a hearth to hold your hands above the flames—immediately warming, consoling, and familiar.
Papercuts is tucked away off Jamaica Plain’s main drag, Centre Street, and the 500-square-foot bookish oasis is on the brink of its one-year anniversary, said the founder and manager Kate Layte. On Nov. 29, which also marks national Small Business Saturday, the store celebrated its first full year of operation.
“It was three years ago, when I woke up one day and was like, ‘I can do that. I can run a bookstore,’” Layte said. And she certainly created a haven for the community’s book lovers, curating a selection of over 3,500 titles suitable for a politically inclined, artistic, and curious crowd, said Layte, a Jamaica Plain resident for eight years.
“It’s partly a selfish reason, why I opened this bookstore,” Layte said. “I knew I lived in an area where there were so many talented and creative people. And honestly, how do you really meet your neighbors these days? You don’t—and the people I’ve met this past year—it’s blown my mind.”
Within the year, Papercuts hosted author events, including an evening with local writer Jabari Asim for Black History Month, Layte gave a TEDx talk on the vitality and importance of the indie bookstore, and the store is slated to release an anthology, “What Happened Here: Year One at Papercuts J.P.,” containing works from all of the authors who’ve visited the store on Green Street.
In the digital age, where the bookstore landscape withered and the ease of online orders besets most peoples’ desire to walk through a physical door, Papercuts achieved no small feat. Layte said its success is largely credited to the bookstores’ ability to create community engagement and meaningful discourse.
“The community wants good books to read and a space to connect,” Layte said. “It’s so funny how many people come into the store and run into someone they know, someone they haven’t seen in a while, or someone new. People are drawn to a place like this.”
Layte’s history with books is a life-long love affair. As a child, she said she spent endless hours her elementary school’s library stacks reading (mostly “Goosebumps”), and in adulthood she turned her scholastic zeal into a career. She worked at Borders and in the editorial department of Little, Brown and Company. She then earned a certificate in publishing from Boston University and became an assistant to the senior managing editor at Little, Brown.
But one day, she said she woke up and decided she’d open a bookstore. She joined the American Book Association, a national trade group for independent bookstores, which offers a book selling kit detailing the steps for starting a bookstore, she said. Layte got the kit, and began moving through the checklist, thinking about what she wanted the store to look like, what kind of inventory system she’d use, and the demographic she wanted to reach, she said. Layte said she took a series of online course, and worked with a mentor at the Small Business Association to write a business plan, too.
“I took advantage of as much as I could,” Layte said. “And I just didn’t shut up about it for two years. I made lists about everything I needed to learn—really actionable lists to see if I could really accomplish this.”
A year later, she said she’s proud of what she’s created.
“I took a leap and hoped that the community wanted it, too.” Layte said. “And then they caught me and supported me, and now we’ve built a community.”
Her literary career came full circle when she opened Papercuts. The media events coordinator, Katie Eelman, was Layte’s former intern at Little, Brown, and her bookseller John Cleary, worked with Layte at Borders in Boston’s Downtown Crossing.
Cleary, who’s known Layte for nine years, said that when he was offered a position as a bookseller, he took it right away.
“It’s my job to know about books and to answer questions about the store and recommend my favorite reads,” Clearly said. “That’s probably the best part of working here—I get to discuss books I feel passionate about.”
Cleary said he reads a lot of political non-fiction, memoirs, some fantasy, horror, and a little bit of sci-fi, too. This motley company of genres complements Layte’s taste for books, she said. And it’s this diversity of interests that makes Papercuts’ selection honed, but varied. There’s a lot packed into the shelves in the tiny space.
The quality of the selection draws customers like Isha Vicaria, who lives up Green Street, into the store. She poked around the fiction section, clutching a copy of “Where’d You Go, Bernadette” that Layte helped her pick out.
“Sometimes I don’t know what I want until I hold it in my hands,” Vicaria said.
Jamaica Plain oddly lacks bookstores, Vicaria said, and Papercuts filled the void—very naturally and gracefully. Although Vicaria said she likes the convenience of online book sales, she said the store offers a more satisfying experience, a sentiment Eelman, the media and events coordinator echoed.
“Bookstores allow that curiosity and wonder,” Eelman said. “They bring in a world of different ways of thinking and being able to peruse the shelves and pick out what you might be interested in that day at the moment is truly a magical experience. I don’t think you get that experience online.”
Eelman, who plans Papercuts’ events, manages the social media and marketing, and helps produce the store’s podcast, said she feels connected to Jamaica Plain after just a year of working at the bookstore.
“It’s a place people feel welcomed and we’re fostering community and they get to be a part of it,” Eelman said.
Papercuts engages the community in a myriad of ways—from the events to keeping local writers stocked on the shelves, to providing a space for conversations pertinent to the people of JP, to putting its residents’ art up on the walls. One of those featured artists is Susan Hardy Brown, and her work will become a bookmark to be sold at the store, said Layte.
Brown’s art currently hangs on a wall in Papercuts. It’s a collection of wooden boards painted midnight sky blue and embellished with pressed Queen Anne’s lace. Brown said she’s honored to add to the store’s homey, whimsical aesthetic.
“The whole atmosphere is cozy and intimate,” Brown said. “It’s wondrous.”
Brown is a close friend of Layte’s most recent hire, Mike Curley, who was also Layte’s boss at Little, Brown. He’s training to help during the holidays at Papercuts, he said.
“I’m not surprised by her success,” Curley sad. “What’s amazed me is how she can interpret people’s taste. Her passion for reading is evident. It shines through and it’s a draw for customers.”
Layte said she’s always valued bookstores for this reason; they’re a place to find solace in the stacks. This is what her TEDx talk discussed: this notion of human connection through reading that Layte said changed her life.
“When you read, you discover that you’re not alone in the world, that people have had these experiences before,” Layte said. “In books, we find real selves, real portrayals of people with depth. People have written a lot of good stuff to help us understand world, the each other, and ourselves.”
It only takes a handful of writers to make a city immortal, and Boston’s Jamaica Plain is certainly suspended in forever. Its rows of autumnal hued Victorian homes, otherworldly cemetery, curious biodiversity, and artistic inhabitants are inscribed onto the surface of time in lines of poetry.
Jamaica Plain seems to exert a particular gravitational pull as a place for creativity, and especially for poets. Pulitzer poet Sylvia Plath was born on Price Street near the Arnold Arboretum back in 1932, and at age 8 she published her first poem in the Boston Herald. Anne Sexton, another Pulitzer Prize winner, and poet e.e. cummings are buried in Forest Hills Cemetery.
The neighborhood’s amalgam of urbanism and nature offer a unique setting for penning a poem, as its star-studded literary history proves, and many of Jamaica Plain’s current dwellers say there’s something about the community that strings words and rhyme-inclined people together.
Sandra Storey is one of these poets. She’s lived in Jamaica Plain for 42 years, during which she’s founded the Jamaica Plain Gazette, worked as its editor-in-chief, taught poetry workshops, published poems in various literary magazines, including New York Quarterly, Friction (UK), and New Millennium writings, and performed countless works at readings across the community.
“Arts feel encouraged and supported here,” Storey said. “Poetry is not treated like an oddity.”
Store is also a member of the Jamaica Pond Poets, a leaderless writers workshop composed of 13 members who meet weekly to discuss and edit one another’s poetry. The Poets, who are in their 20th year together, are a very successful group—all members are published in literary magazines, several have won awards for their work, and a few have books and chapbooks on store shelves. Jamaica Pond Poets is a community, Storey said, and it’s helping preserve and nurture Jamaica Plain’s literary tradition.
“It helps keep poetry in the air,” Storey said.
The group also hosts poetry readings, one of which is Rozzie Reads. Dorothy Derifield is an operating committee member, and she read at the Dec. 3 event where Storey was the featured poet. Derifield is a Jamaica Pond Poet, too, and her work is in the Radcliffe Quarterly and Harvard Magazine. She’s also the director of the series Chapter and Verse, which she inherited when it was on the brink of extinction she said.
“I didn’t want it to disappear,” Derifield said. “It was important to the community.”
It’s evident Jamaica Plain residents value the arts, Storey said. She’s surrounded by artists— musicians, actors, visual artists, and writers—and it’s normal to go home and work on your art, to tend to something, she said.
“It’s easy to find people who understand what you do,” Storey said. “There are a lot of poets in JP.”
Along with historic figures Plath, Sexton, and e.e. cummings, Jamaica Plain is home to Jill McDonough, published poet and creative writing professor at University Massachusetts of Boston, Maggie Dietz, who directed the Favorite Poem Project founded by U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky, and the Carpenter Poets of Jamaica Plain. There’s also a handful of regular poetry readings series including Rozzie Reads, Calliope Poetry Series, Moonlighting (an LGBTQ open mic), and a fairly new series called Mr. Hip Presents, an interactive event that incorporates poetry, spoken word, and live jazz music
Mr. Hip Presents’ founder and director is Donald Vincent. Vincent grew up Washington D.C., and he’s lived in Jamaica Plain for three years now. He received his M.F.A. in creative writing from Emerson College, and he works for the Department of Home Security and leads Mr. Hip.
Vincent said he started reading and writing poetry because it offered him an alternate avenue for expression.
“Poetry is a gateway,” Vincent said. “It’s a way of living.”
The art form resonated with him, but he was frustrated with the lack of poets of color, both in his college courses’ syllabi and at poetry readings in Boston, he said. He found a need to disrupt this homogeny, to expand the community and diversify the cast and rhythms of poetry in Boston he said. So he created Mr. Hip and it found a home in Jamaica Plain.
What Vincent noted was a fairly universal social tendency known as “homophily,” which describes people’s natural preference to stick with their own kind. There’s a large vat of research showing how homogenous environments hinder creativity, which is perhaps why so many poets have flocked to Jamaica Plain—its multiplicity of voices makes people more imaginative.
“If I need some inspiration, I’ll just walk down Centre Street,” Vincent said. “Who knows what you’ll see in Jamaica Plain.”
Many cities offer the creative benefits of diversity, what differentiates Jamaica Plain is its nature, seamlessly stitching Centre Street to the Arnold Arboretum to the Forest Hills Cemetery. Jamaica Plain’s greenery drew twenty-something poets GennaRose Nethercott and Blake Campbell to settle here.
Nethercott recently moved to Jamaica Plain this September after returning from touring Europe with her poetry. Her father was a writer and she grew up surrounded by books and storytelling, she said. She also grew up surrounded by nature, and she’s come to reside in the Boston neighborhood because it reminds her of her hometown, Brattleboro, Vermont, she said.
“It’s a woodsy artsy area, and if I was going to be in a city it seamed like a great place,” Nethercott said. “The green spaces help me handle urban life, and it has a really active arts scene.”
She’s a published, world-travelling poet and she earns a living wage writing poetry—a fact she’s proud of she said. Nethercott traveled around Europe with her typewriter on her back, writing poems to order in whatever city she found herself in. Now you can find her writing poems by the pond side and around the neighborhood in Jamaica Plain.
“I’m fascinated with the idea of storytelling not as an accessory to life, but a necessity,” Nethercott said. “The stories people tell are a way to communicate some need of society.”
The Jamaica Pond is one of Nethercott’s favorite places to find a lucrative kind of solitude for writing.
“You have access to these quiet pensive spaces where you can go and have that time for reflection, but is still has access to the city where you can find more active engagement with the city and with people,” Nethercott said. “For me, as a writer, I really need these quiet spaces to think creatively.”
Poet Blake Campbell echoes Nethercott’s sentiment—similarly he’s found peace and creative stimulation from Jamaica Plain’s natural areas.
“Poets I admire are very tied to place,” Campbell said. “We’re immensely impacted by the environment.”
Campbell won the Aliki Perroti and Seth Frank Most Promising Young Poet Award this September. His winning poem “Bioluminescence,” is about losing a great love and it’s told through a story of cave exploration. Most of his pomes are inspired by nature, he said, and on Saturday mornings Campbell has a habit of waking up early to take walks around the pond.
“I need that,” Campbell said. “I need to be able to go for long walks where I don’t have to do anything but think and look at the world around me. And sometimes a line of poetry will come into my head and I will work out a poem, or concept for a poem in my head.”
The artistic process finds breath in Jamaica Plain, said Storey. She said the Jamaica Pond Poets is the reason she started writing poetry again after a 17-year hiatus. Storey said the community understands one another— understands the act of carrying a notebook in your back pocket, or desperately searching for a napkin and pen when a detail of life needs capturing. She said she reconnected with her poet-identity, found connections with new people, and looked at the world through a literary lens.
“Poetry is important because it gives us an alternative way to talk about the world,” Storey said. “And the atmosphere of Jamaica Plain is conducive to talking about alternate ways.”
I’m going to turn twenty years old in two days on April 28, 2015. This birthday hasn’t snuck up on me, though. It’s an age I’ve thought a lot about. Twenty. It’s heavy, significant, learned, a little intimidating, challenging, thrilling, youthful, and new.
I’ve always felt that you grow into an age. The day after your birthday you don’t feel the weight of that extra year yet. You feel the age you were yesterday, and for a while you catch yourself hesitating before you reply to: “How old are you?” It takes a while for this number to settle into your bones and for your mind to fill it out. Twenty feels significant, and it’s a place I’d like to sink into for a while.
I’m on the brink of twenty. Optimistically, this means I’ve lived roughly one-fifth of my life. In this fifth, I’ve become increasingly aware of what it means to be a young woman in this world, and in the last year or so, I’ve found that a good way for me to share my experience is to write about it. I love being a woman and I know I’ll dedicate my life to fighting this feminist fight. I’m just beginning. Here’s to twenty years, and 80 more. Before the celebrations begin, here’s a gift poem from me to you. My sixth grade English teacher first introduced me to “gift poems,” and now I’m paying it forward with a slight variation—a gift of prose. Here’s a little thing for all my fellow feminists, and most importantly my mom (because twenty years ago on April 28, she was doing a hell of a lot of work).
The Collective We
We get distracted by pronouns used in class. We search for faces in rows of gold-framed portraits hung on university walls. We see our bodies in movies, magazines and we learn to hate the angle of our nose, the touch of our thighs. We leave the house, a spectacle, delectable, daring to ignore those calls, those alleged compliments. Can we fight this together? We hear our abuse in lyrics, click the radio off. We feel the gaze, it’s hot on our skin, scalding. We avoid mirrors, forever unsatisfied because we don’t reflect what’s been constructed. We fear age, fear clocks, fear late night walks. Alone. Can we fight this together? We fold our bodies inward, self-conscious origami, make ourselves small, feel we are flawed. We don’t raise our hands, our voices, our chins because courage looks ugly on us. We are leaders, just like you. We are emotional beings, but so are you. We work and we want pay, the same as you. Let’s put our faces up next to yours. Let’s write with voices as strong as yours. Let’s solve this problem, because it’s also yours.
Before you swipe your cash card and pick up new digs at Forever21 this weekend, give my latest opinion work a read. I urge you to know the stories behind the clothes you buy and think before you pop tags.
Read my latest, “Fast Fashion’s lasting woes”
“We’re blasted with statistics and images of poverty and pollution from far away places, but rarely do we consider the surprisingly intimate connection we may share with a woman halfway across the globe. It’s even more rare for us to act to improve this relationship. Spending responsibly on clothes is mutually beneficial for both the low-wage working producers and American consumers, and our dollars would go further if spent on higher quality clothes or thrifted buys. If we examine the oppressed perspectives of our fast fashion producers, we can have a better understanding of how to improve our relationships with the global textile economy.”
“During a recent Sunday brunch with my crew, my girlfriend was retelling her night’s sexscapades and blurted out a now infamous line her guy dropped right before things got hot-and-heavy. They’re making out, and he comes up for air, takes her by the shoulders and says completely seriously, ‘Ok, wanna make a game plan?'”
Read my latest, “Foreplay: The Most Underrated Part of Sex” on Pleasure Pie, to learn why game-plan-guy accidentally created an ingenious sex-positive concept.
And check out Pleasure Pie, a Boston organization all about sex positivity!