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About Paul

Unique selections of books from our book buyer Paul Ingram. He compiles great lists of books on varying topics.

If you have any requests for recommendations, send Paul an email at

  • Paul's Corner: Paul's Book Club

    The Street of Crocodiles Bruno Schulz

    Our May Book Club will take place on May 18 at 7 pm at Prairie Lights Book Store.  The book will be The Street of Crocodiles by Bruno Schulz.  There are plenty of copies available at the book store.

  • Paul's Corner: Poetry Month - Gwendolyn Brooks

    Selected Poems Gwendolyn Brooks

    a song in the front yard

    I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.
    I want a peek at the back
    Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows.  
    A girl gets sick of a rose.

    I want to go in the back yard now  
    And maybe down the alley,
    To where the charity children play.  
    I want a good time today.

    They do some wonderful things.
    They have some wonderful fun.
    My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine
    How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.  
    My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae  
    Will grow up to be a bad woman.
    That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late
    (On account of last winter he sold our back gate).

    But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.
    And I’d like to be a bad woman, too,
    And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace  
    And strut down the streets with paint on my face.

    —Gwendolyn Brooks


  • Paul's Corner: Poetry Month - James Galvin

    Resurrection Update: Collected Poems, 1975-1997 James Galvin


    Remember the night you got drunk
    and shot the roses?
    You were a perfect stranger, Father,
    even my bad sister cried.

    Some other gravity,
    not death or luck,
    drew fish out of the sea
    and started them panting.

    The fish became a man.
    The archer’s bow became a violin.
    I remember the night you searched the sofa
    for change

    and wept on the telephone.
    Some other gravity,
    not time or entropy,
    pulled the knife down for centuries.

    The archers dropped their bows,
    harmless as pine needles in the snow.
    The knife became a plow
    and entered the earth, Father.

    Later it became a boat
    and some other things —
    It isn’t a dream but it takes a long time,
    for the archer’s bow to become a violin.

    --James Galvin