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Waiting to Land: A (Mostly) Political Memoir, 1985-2008
Although best known for his acclaimed biographies, historian Martin Duberman is also a renowned memoirist who has plumbed his own life for truths that have meaning for us all. In the bestselling Cures, he carried his story up to 1970, focusing on his fear that homosexuality was pathological and on his desperate search for a therapeutic cure. Duberman's second autobiographical book, Midlife Queer, centered on the 1970s, by which time he'd thrown off his earlier doubts and become fully engaged in the worlds of gay politics and culture.
Waiting to Land takes Duberman's story up to the present day. As his public engagement deepens, Duberman finds himself increasingly at odds with the mounting assimilationism of the mainstream gay movement - and with the left itself, which Duberman has come to believe is smugly oblivious to the realities of gay life. Disaffection leads him to till crucial new ground, including the founding of the groundbreaking Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS) and serving as an original board member of Queers for Economic Justice.
Interweaving diary entries with letters and with reflections written in 2008, Waiting to Land incisively probes issues of crucial import for everyone. By turns moving, funny, provocative, and profound, this book is an unflinchingly honest and deeply important window into an extraordinary life.
Waiting to Land takes Duberman's story up to the present day. As his public engagement deepens, Duberman finds himself increasingly at odds with the mounting assimilationism of the mainstream gay movement - and with the left itself, which Duberman has come to believe is smugly oblivious to the realities of gay life. Disaffection leads him to till crucial new ground, including the founding of the groundbreaking Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS) and serving as an original board member of Queers for Economic Justice.
Interweaving diary entries with letters and with reflections written in 2008, Waiting to Land incisively probes issues of crucial import for everyone. By turns moving, funny, provocative, and profound, this book is an unflinchingly honest and deeply important window into an extraordinary life.
352 pages, Hardcover
First published April 15, 2009
1 person is currently reading
37 people want to read
About the author
Martin Duberman
65 books88 followersMartin Bauml Duberman is a scholar and playwright. He graduated from Yale in 1952 and earned a Ph.D. in American history from Harvard in 1957. Duberman left his tenured position at Princeton University in 1971 to become Distinguished Professor of History at Lehman College in New York City.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
April 26, 2016
It's both a strength as well a limitation of this "mostly" memoir that Martin Duberman is a complete New Yorker. Not to criticize, but a lot of it did remind me of that classic "New Yorker" cartoon showing a Manhattanite's view of the United States - essentially the civilized world ending at the Hudson River.
My favorite parts of the book were the diary entries reflecting the time-consuming and tiring yet necessary politicking Duberman engaged with in creating and sustaining the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies - CLAGS - through the difficult years of the late 1980s and 1990s. Committee work is no fun, nor is it glamorous but it has been and will continue to be the site of many important battles for queer and other minorities.
There's an interesting wistfulness through most of the book. In part it reflects the heavy shadow of AIDS which fell across these generations. In part it also reflects the fact that as the years roll on, Duberman seems to feel increasingly alienated from the mainstream political and social LGBT movement. He reveals a general disappointment, for he clearly had much higher hopes - and greater expectations for radicalism - for the LGBT movement earlier in his life.
My favorite parts of the book were the diary entries reflecting the time-consuming and tiring yet necessary politicking Duberman engaged with in creating and sustaining the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies - CLAGS - through the difficult years of the late 1980s and 1990s. Committee work is no fun, nor is it glamorous but it has been and will continue to be the site of many important battles for queer and other minorities.
There's an interesting wistfulness through most of the book. In part it reflects the heavy shadow of AIDS which fell across these generations. In part it also reflects the fact that as the years roll on, Duberman seems to feel increasingly alienated from the mainstream political and social LGBT movement. He reveals a general disappointment, for he clearly had much higher hopes - and greater expectations for radicalism - for the LGBT movement earlier in his life.
October 18, 2012
This memoir by pioneering LGBT historian and activist Martin Duberman focuses on the surprisingly moving and dramatic story of the struggle to build this country’s first undergraduate LGBT studies department at the City University of New York. Set against George H. Bush’s inaction on AIDS, Bill Clinton’s gaffes on gays in the military, and the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall riots, it is alive with incisive political reflections, personal soul-searching, and plenty of gossipy asides about Duberman's academic and political rivalries. Waiting to Land picks up the story Duberman began in Cures: A Gay Man’s Odyssey, about coming out before 1970 and choosing to live openly as a gay man, and Midlife Queer: Autobiography of a Decade, 1971-1981, about channeling the excitement of gay liberation into a national political agenda. With an engaging mix of heated diary entries, letter excerpts and straightforward narration written in 2008, it binds together the strands of his life as an activist academic and author or editor of more than 20 books (including Stonewall, the basis for the 1995 movie about the Greenwich Village uprising, and Paul Robeson, a biography of African American actor and activist). The result is a gripping glimpse into the inner life of a 79 year-old gay man who has dedicated himself to making a difference for gay people of all backgrounds, and a cautionary tale about idealism’s limits in a hierarchical and conformist culture.
Here's my Q&A with Duberman, which ran in the Advocate magazine in 2009:
KEEP ON PUSHING: A CONVERSATION WITH MARTIN DUBERMAN
By Charlotte Abbott
Having established yourself as a historian and activist in the 1970s and ‘80s, you channeled your considerable energies into creating the first LGBT studies department at the college level in the U.S. in the 1990s. Why were you certain of this path for the LGBT movement?
We had reached the point by the mid-‘80s where a number of scholars—most not affiliated with academia, like Jonathan Ned Katz and Joan Nestle—had produced significant amount of work. I sensed the moment had come that this info needed to be centered in an academic context. Of course, there’s a danger when you institutionalize anything that you’ll become part of the institutional culture, though you may disapprove of it, or try to do things differently. In the early founding group, were all a little nervous about this, but felt it was important to advance gay scholarship – because there were all kinds of perks, such as grants – though we were given almost none in the beginning.
How long did the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS) take to become solidly established?
The university contributed nothing to our effort except a few in-kind services, so it took us five years, from 1986 to 1991, to raise the $50,000 we needed. From the beginning, we did a lot of public events where we’d explain our situation and pass the hat. Everyone on our early board was an activist. But right down to the present day, a lot of wealthy people don’t associate scholarship with activism, even though there are many ways that two work together. An example I give in the book is that Hidden from History, the collection of historical essays I edited, was cited as swaying votes in the Vermont legislature.
What impressed you about the emerging LGBT scholarship?
I felt the material queer scholars were beginning to produce was invaluable to the mainstream as well as to LGBT people: we knew a lot about sexuality, relationships, gender. And because of having a different historical experience, we have a different set of values and perspectives on the need for respect for a variety of people, for those who are minorities, and those who don’t conform. That’s part of what kept me going. I think the other part probably relates to the fact that I had been an activist, I was on the founding board of the National Gay Task Force, the founding advisory board of Lambda Legal Defense – I can’t even remember everything I did in the 70s, but it was a lot.
Your experience seems emblematic of your generation – insofar as you were liberated by the gay movement and became an activist in the ‘70s, and then pushed to institutionalize a LGBT social vision in the ‘80s and 90’s, despite losing so many fellow activists to AIDS.
Yes, but there were many others who bought the argument from the ‘60s that we were damaged, sick, and incapable of intimacy. I had to fight though that – most of us from that generation retain a certain self-loathing, a fear of intimacy. There are a lot of scars I live with, that are direct or indirect result of homophobia I grew up with: I don’t travel easily, I don’t sleep well [laughs]. I have a wonderful partner at this point, but I have gone through a lot of stormy affairs. It’s been a hard fight to accept myself to the point I currently do. A lot of people of my generation couldn’t fight through it, and they live with a very negative image of themselves, so they can’t fight, and they can’t go public that they’re gay.
Yes, there’s a lot of damage done, especially by the virulent homophobia of the 1950s. I often think about how little distance we really have on that time.
We’ve only come a partial way from the racism, classism and sexism in our own community. I’ve been talking to a lot of LGBT black people because of a book I’m writing that involves [poet and activist] Essex Hemphill – and they tell me they don’t feel the mainstream gay movement is their movement. It doesn’t include their experience, their needs.
What gives you hope, as far as the LGBT movement goes?
I was part of the group that set up Queers for Economic justice–most are in their 20s and 30s–and I was enormously impressed. They do seem to be radical and inclusive, but I’m talking about a handful of people here – a lot of people are also joining Log Cabin Republicans.
Even though you dedicated yourself to establishing the academic field of LGBT studies, you’ve also consistently questioned the polarization of gay and straight identities. Where do you see this debate going in the LGBT movement?
I think there is that inherent contradiction in trying to establish an identity that may prove a disservice to everyone. I’m thinking now of the Kinsey Report way back in 1948, where a third of self-labeled heterosexual men had had a same-sex experience to orgasm, and that’s when the U.S. was entering a very conservative period. I have argued –though can’t claim this for myself –that bisexuality is probably closer to what our innate capacities really are. We’re not meant to be gay or straight. It’s the same for gender: I mean, men and women, does that really cover it? That’s why I think transgender issues are likely to be at the cutting edge of the movement as we go forward.
You’ve grappled with a lot of backbiting, leading to the collapse of the coalition that attempted to work with various New York City institutions to honor the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall riots, among other things. What’s the best way to overcome it, in your experience?
I’m told you also find a great deal of backbiting and animosity in the African-American movement and the feminist movement. Part of explanation is that we have been oppressed. When we come out, it’s a gesture to liberation, but it hardly represents full liberation from the lousy self-image we’ve carried around for years, as gays or blacks or women. Also it’s usually safer to vent among one’s own. The best way to overcome that is good old fashioned consciousness-raising. We would have retreats at CLAGS, and ask why there was so much tension and apparent distrust. It would help, but how long it would last is arguable. We’ve had three women as the executive director, but there hasn’t been a black or Hispanic executive director. So there’s more work to be done.
As the son of an immigrant to New York, who has worked with students from similar backgrounds since the 1970s, you also care deeply about putting economic equality on the LGBT movement’s front burner. What’s the best way to accomplish this?
A lot of Waiting to Land is about my feeling that the gay movement is unaware of class issues. We like to think that anyone who works hard can pull themselves up, while completely ignoring the obstacles. At the same time, the straight left remains largely unaware of LGBT concerns. They say, “of course you people should have your rights.” But if you say to them, “haven’t you been attracted to someone of your own gender?” it’s a red flag. They don’t want to think about the texture of our lives, because they don’t want to think about their own lives. I find it a really peculiar situation. The LGBT movement is not aware of class, and the class-based left wing movement is not aware of us – thus the title of my book, Waiting to Land.
So here you are, stranded, still searching for a world you many not find.
My search has been embedded in a life of material comfort, of partnership, of all the privileges that relate to being male and being white, even though I’ve been discriminated against as gay person and have internalized a lot of that – or did. Our society in general can easily put me in a despairing mood. To some extent today’s young are more radical than the preceding two generations, or maybe three—but they are not connecting with those from other movements, and they are small in number. So I will die unsatisfied—but that’s part of my temperament too.
You recently received a lifetime achievement award from the Publishing Triangle. How do you most want to be remembered?
I would like to be remembered as somebody who tried to use his privilege to question privilege and even to sabotage it where possible.
Would you say you’ve been successful at that?
Partially. Part of the flack I received as director of CLAGS was that in a semi- or unconscious way, I made certain assumptions like – “Of course we can do this!” – when really it was a matter of everyone fulfilling the task they’d committed to. That attitude arises from a privileged background. A lot of people can’t complete what they really wish to do. Without question, I’m aware I contributed, without wanting to or intending to, to whatever explosions were happening with CLAGS. I tried not to, but most of us are not sufficiently in control of our subconscious to do that.
You mean, you were human after all?
Yes, I’ll have to settle for that.
Here's my Q&A with Duberman, which ran in the Advocate magazine in 2009:
KEEP ON PUSHING: A CONVERSATION WITH MARTIN DUBERMAN
By Charlotte Abbott
Having established yourself as a historian and activist in the 1970s and ‘80s, you channeled your considerable energies into creating the first LGBT studies department at the college level in the U.S. in the 1990s. Why were you certain of this path for the LGBT movement?
We had reached the point by the mid-‘80s where a number of scholars—most not affiliated with academia, like Jonathan Ned Katz and Joan Nestle—had produced significant amount of work. I sensed the moment had come that this info needed to be centered in an academic context. Of course, there’s a danger when you institutionalize anything that you’ll become part of the institutional culture, though you may disapprove of it, or try to do things differently. In the early founding group, were all a little nervous about this, but felt it was important to advance gay scholarship – because there were all kinds of perks, such as grants – though we were given almost none in the beginning.
How long did the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS) take to become solidly established?
The university contributed nothing to our effort except a few in-kind services, so it took us five years, from 1986 to 1991, to raise the $50,000 we needed. From the beginning, we did a lot of public events where we’d explain our situation and pass the hat. Everyone on our early board was an activist. But right down to the present day, a lot of wealthy people don’t associate scholarship with activism, even though there are many ways that two work together. An example I give in the book is that Hidden from History, the collection of historical essays I edited, was cited as swaying votes in the Vermont legislature.
What impressed you about the emerging LGBT scholarship?
I felt the material queer scholars were beginning to produce was invaluable to the mainstream as well as to LGBT people: we knew a lot about sexuality, relationships, gender. And because of having a different historical experience, we have a different set of values and perspectives on the need for respect for a variety of people, for those who are minorities, and those who don’t conform. That’s part of what kept me going. I think the other part probably relates to the fact that I had been an activist, I was on the founding board of the National Gay Task Force, the founding advisory board of Lambda Legal Defense – I can’t even remember everything I did in the 70s, but it was a lot.
Your experience seems emblematic of your generation – insofar as you were liberated by the gay movement and became an activist in the ‘70s, and then pushed to institutionalize a LGBT social vision in the ‘80s and 90’s, despite losing so many fellow activists to AIDS.
Yes, but there were many others who bought the argument from the ‘60s that we were damaged, sick, and incapable of intimacy. I had to fight though that – most of us from that generation retain a certain self-loathing, a fear of intimacy. There are a lot of scars I live with, that are direct or indirect result of homophobia I grew up with: I don’t travel easily, I don’t sleep well [laughs]. I have a wonderful partner at this point, but I have gone through a lot of stormy affairs. It’s been a hard fight to accept myself to the point I currently do. A lot of people of my generation couldn’t fight through it, and they live with a very negative image of themselves, so they can’t fight, and they can’t go public that they’re gay.
Yes, there’s a lot of damage done, especially by the virulent homophobia of the 1950s. I often think about how little distance we really have on that time.
We’ve only come a partial way from the racism, classism and sexism in our own community. I’ve been talking to a lot of LGBT black people because of a book I’m writing that involves [poet and activist] Essex Hemphill – and they tell me they don’t feel the mainstream gay movement is their movement. It doesn’t include their experience, their needs.
What gives you hope, as far as the LGBT movement goes?
I was part of the group that set up Queers for Economic justice–most are in their 20s and 30s–and I was enormously impressed. They do seem to be radical and inclusive, but I’m talking about a handful of people here – a lot of people are also joining Log Cabin Republicans.
Even though you dedicated yourself to establishing the academic field of LGBT studies, you’ve also consistently questioned the polarization of gay and straight identities. Where do you see this debate going in the LGBT movement?
I think there is that inherent contradiction in trying to establish an identity that may prove a disservice to everyone. I’m thinking now of the Kinsey Report way back in 1948, where a third of self-labeled heterosexual men had had a same-sex experience to orgasm, and that’s when the U.S. was entering a very conservative period. I have argued –though can’t claim this for myself –that bisexuality is probably closer to what our innate capacities really are. We’re not meant to be gay or straight. It’s the same for gender: I mean, men and women, does that really cover it? That’s why I think transgender issues are likely to be at the cutting edge of the movement as we go forward.
You’ve grappled with a lot of backbiting, leading to the collapse of the coalition that attempted to work with various New York City institutions to honor the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall riots, among other things. What’s the best way to overcome it, in your experience?
I’m told you also find a great deal of backbiting and animosity in the African-American movement and the feminist movement. Part of explanation is that we have been oppressed. When we come out, it’s a gesture to liberation, but it hardly represents full liberation from the lousy self-image we’ve carried around for years, as gays or blacks or women. Also it’s usually safer to vent among one’s own. The best way to overcome that is good old fashioned consciousness-raising. We would have retreats at CLAGS, and ask why there was so much tension and apparent distrust. It would help, but how long it would last is arguable. We’ve had three women as the executive director, but there hasn’t been a black or Hispanic executive director. So there’s more work to be done.
As the son of an immigrant to New York, who has worked with students from similar backgrounds since the 1970s, you also care deeply about putting economic equality on the LGBT movement’s front burner. What’s the best way to accomplish this?
A lot of Waiting to Land is about my feeling that the gay movement is unaware of class issues. We like to think that anyone who works hard can pull themselves up, while completely ignoring the obstacles. At the same time, the straight left remains largely unaware of LGBT concerns. They say, “of course you people should have your rights.” But if you say to them, “haven’t you been attracted to someone of your own gender?” it’s a red flag. They don’t want to think about the texture of our lives, because they don’t want to think about their own lives. I find it a really peculiar situation. The LGBT movement is not aware of class, and the class-based left wing movement is not aware of us – thus the title of my book, Waiting to Land.
So here you are, stranded, still searching for a world you many not find.
My search has been embedded in a life of material comfort, of partnership, of all the privileges that relate to being male and being white, even though I’ve been discriminated against as gay person and have internalized a lot of that – or did. Our society in general can easily put me in a despairing mood. To some extent today’s young are more radical than the preceding two generations, or maybe three—but they are not connecting with those from other movements, and they are small in number. So I will die unsatisfied—but that’s part of my temperament too.
You recently received a lifetime achievement award from the Publishing Triangle. How do you most want to be remembered?
I would like to be remembered as somebody who tried to use his privilege to question privilege and even to sabotage it where possible.
Would you say you’ve been successful at that?
Partially. Part of the flack I received as director of CLAGS was that in a semi- or unconscious way, I made certain assumptions like – “Of course we can do this!” – when really it was a matter of everyone fulfilling the task they’d committed to. That attitude arises from a privileged background. A lot of people can’t complete what they really wish to do. Without question, I’m aware I contributed, without wanting to or intending to, to whatever explosions were happening with CLAGS. I tried not to, but most of us are not sufficiently in control of our subconscious to do that.
You mean, you were human after all?
Yes, I’ll have to settle for that.
June 12, 2010
Longing for the Return of the Left
Martin Duberman is generally viewed as one of the most important social philosophers of our time, and as with every philosopher of distant past, recent past, and present he has his agenda, concentrating his thoughts on a specific area of discussion. And for Duberman this arena is the gay/homosexual/queer state of being. He is a gifted writer and has courageously written books that detail his own 'coming out' - from the trials of denial and therapy to change himself, to the agony of becoming part of what he once dreaded, to being one of our most outspoken and sensitive gay rights activists. Look is name up in the dictionary and you will find the following distillation of his accomplishments: 'Martin Bauml Duberman (born August 6, 1930) is an American historian, philosopher, playwright, and gay-rights activist. He is the Distinguished Professor of History Emeritus at Lehman College and the Graduate School of the City University of New York and was the founder and first director of the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies at the CUNY Graduate School. He has authored over twenty books including James Russell Lowell (a National Book Award finalist), Paul Robeson, Stonewall, and the memoir 'Cures: A Gay Man's Odyssey'. He is also a neoabolitionist scholar, as evidenced by his edited collection of essays, 'The Antislavery Vanguard'. His play 'In White America' won the Vernon Rice/Drama Desk Award for Best Off-Broadway Production in 1963.' Now, with all of his achievements well documented he offers this book WAITING TO LAND, which chronicles his steps in the political direction from the year 1985 to 2008.
After a richly detailed introduction he jumps into his topic with what at first glance seems to be a series of diary entries, carefully adding italicized sentences that show his own editing of entries that need further clarification. Mixed with these closely personal statements about the changes that have occurred in gay life - becoming more mainstream and acceptable through the usual American means of incorporating gay characters into our novels, our films, our television programs, and our watered down political activist groups - are essays that more directly and more succinctly outline his arguments and issues.
Duberman sees this assimilation from the protestor's stance: surrender your uniqueness and become a watered down acceptable droid that no longer has to stand for the ideals of the pioneers of the movement. This stance has caused many a debate on the political front, but Duberman insists that without pride and commitment to self and individuality that the struggle will dilute until the old stereotypes revert a strong movement into a shadow of misunderstanding and bland sameness to our culture. As he has stated in other places 'I'm deeply committed to ending the era of gay apologetics. But we need to be on guard against the temptation to replace it with an era of extravagant self-congratulation.'
Martin Duberman is a brilliant philosopher and social theorist, and as such he has created both fans and detractors from both sides of his debates. But one aspect of Duberman that at times goes unnoticed - that he is a very fine literary mind and is able to write cogent arguments and do so eloquently - is corrected by careful reading of this book. He is a brilliant man, unafraid to stir discontent among the public, and he deserves wide attention.
Grady Harp
Martin Duberman is generally viewed as one of the most important social philosophers of our time, and as with every philosopher of distant past, recent past, and present he has his agenda, concentrating his thoughts on a specific area of discussion. And for Duberman this arena is the gay/homosexual/queer state of being. He is a gifted writer and has courageously written books that detail his own 'coming out' - from the trials of denial and therapy to change himself, to the agony of becoming part of what he once dreaded, to being one of our most outspoken and sensitive gay rights activists. Look is name up in the dictionary and you will find the following distillation of his accomplishments: 'Martin Bauml Duberman (born August 6, 1930) is an American historian, philosopher, playwright, and gay-rights activist. He is the Distinguished Professor of History Emeritus at Lehman College and the Graduate School of the City University of New York and was the founder and first director of the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies at the CUNY Graduate School. He has authored over twenty books including James Russell Lowell (a National Book Award finalist), Paul Robeson, Stonewall, and the memoir 'Cures: A Gay Man's Odyssey'. He is also a neoabolitionist scholar, as evidenced by his edited collection of essays, 'The Antislavery Vanguard'. His play 'In White America' won the Vernon Rice/Drama Desk Award for Best Off-Broadway Production in 1963.' Now, with all of his achievements well documented he offers this book WAITING TO LAND, which chronicles his steps in the political direction from the year 1985 to 2008.
After a richly detailed introduction he jumps into his topic with what at first glance seems to be a series of diary entries, carefully adding italicized sentences that show his own editing of entries that need further clarification. Mixed with these closely personal statements about the changes that have occurred in gay life - becoming more mainstream and acceptable through the usual American means of incorporating gay characters into our novels, our films, our television programs, and our watered down political activist groups - are essays that more directly and more succinctly outline his arguments and issues.
Duberman sees this assimilation from the protestor's stance: surrender your uniqueness and become a watered down acceptable droid that no longer has to stand for the ideals of the pioneers of the movement. This stance has caused many a debate on the political front, but Duberman insists that without pride and commitment to self and individuality that the struggle will dilute until the old stereotypes revert a strong movement into a shadow of misunderstanding and bland sameness to our culture. As he has stated in other places 'I'm deeply committed to ending the era of gay apologetics. But we need to be on guard against the temptation to replace it with an era of extravagant self-congratulation.'
Martin Duberman is a brilliant philosopher and social theorist, and as such he has created both fans and detractors from both sides of his debates. But one aspect of Duberman that at times goes unnoticed - that he is a very fine literary mind and is able to write cogent arguments and do so eloquently - is corrected by careful reading of this book. He is a brilliant man, unafraid to stir discontent among the public, and he deserves wide attention.
Grady Harp
January 19, 2020
Interesting eye witness account to the challenges of founding the first LGBT scholars institute at CUNY by a white gay male Harvard-educated historian. Duberman's POV adds to the historical record of the period when the academy underwent radical transformation into the profit-making center it is today.
Read
May 15, 2009How could I not like a memoir that ends "I keep hoping for a place to land, a sustainable community. The dream, improbable though it is, persists." And that, from 78-year-old Duberman, noted gay historian and author of over 20 books. The part that interests me most is where he describes his struggles to inject awareness of race and class politics into the gay movement, and awareness of feminist and queer struggles into the straight left -- and admits to feeling like mostly he's failed. Although I wish his critique of assimilation could be more scathing, his rigorous analysis and self-critical anecdotes are nonetheless endearing. His short entries about the height of the AIDS crisis, although not the central focus of the book, are incisive and heartbreaking. I finished this book wanting to know Duberman more more more, and ran right out to my favorite used bookstore, Green Apple Books, to snatch up a few more of his books.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews