Looking at the Green Apple site the other day, we were struck by their Staff Picks section, which describes said staff as "helpful and friendly book and music lovers without the indie attitude." Any reader of Box Office Poison (thanks for the recommendation, SFist Jeremy! We love it!) can tell you that working in a bookstore is oftentimes a thankless task. Props to those Green Apple kids, who do their jobs with a casual grace, and who clearly enjoy what they do. What other bookstores harbor employees who deserve shoutouts? Let us know in the comments!

SFist Rita just finished The Girls Who Went Away by Ann Fessler, which is an oral history of teenagers who were forced to give their babies up for adoption between WWII and Roe v. Wade. All the stories are compelling, and incredibly sad. The book is careful to distinguish the current state of adoption in America with the way things used to be, based on your ability to choose adoption freely as an option, and your ability to see your child grow up.

SFist Jackson was doing some Bay Area homework over the weekend, finishing both Herb Caen's Don't Call it Frisco and The Great Shark Hunt, the first volume of Hunter S. Thompson's Gonzo letters. What's striking were the similarities between their styles and subjects, though obviously their methods were different. Both liked to play with language and pad with a lot of lyrical prose. Very entertaining, and thankfully there's plenty more still to read.

Hey, did anyone go to the poets Eleven event at the new Mission Bay branch of the San Francisco Public Library? We love that we have a reason to hit the library besides picking up (or returning) our online reserves.

SFist Jer decided to try out Runner's World magazine, thinking it would motivate him to run. While it was somewhat interesting to read a specialty exercise magazine, he's still more or less been stuck to the couch. One advantage of being a sloth is he managed to reread the entire run of James Robinson's Starman comic book series, published through the 1990s by DC comics. Starman is the relectant heir to a heroic legacy, though he'd rather be minding his store (he's a junk/collectables dealer). And he has cool tattoos (at least until late in the series when he gets his skin and other organs re-cloned . . . oh never mind). With beautiful art throughout, especially the earlier part of the run by Tony Harris, and sharp, atmospheric, and insightful writing, it was quite enjoyable. Flight beats running any day.

We're having one of those weeks where we're completely unsatisfied with every book we pick up, even those from authors we ordinarily like. The new Fay Weldon just made us glad that we're a) childless and b) not British, and the Jonathan Ames we just picked up from the SFPL is leaving us cold. He just seems so anxious about everything, and he always has an erection.

In recent (that is, the last two or so weeks -- hey, we take Muni to the Sunset. We have a lot of time to read.) memory, the only book we've really dug is Possible Side Effects, by the always reliable Augusten Burroughs. Many of the essays in that book seem to be about being in a rut, just like how we seem to be in our book selections. Does our literary aimlessness actually have a greater significance? Only time shall tell. In the meantime, we encourage you to check out these books from the San Francisco Public Library, and hit us in the comments with how much you disagree (or agree) with our assessments of any of them.

SFist Rita just finished The Dead Beat by Marilyn Johnson, about obituaries. The topic was pretty interesting, and she's certainly reading the obits more carefully after finishing the book, but Johnson's writing was a tad too flowery for her tastes.