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Joe Durepos |
Joe Durepos, the mostly retired editor, sales rep, bookseller and literary agent, recalls a deep friendship with author Hugh Prather that started serendipitously decades ago in a bookstore line and led him recently to help get Prather's last book published posthumously. The title is Gently Down This Dream: Notes on My Sudden Departure, co-written with Gayle Prather (New World Library, $17.95, 9781608688418).
Bookstores have always been a magical destination for me, ever since as a young boy, my parents would take me every Saturday to the newsstand/bookshop on the air force base in England my father was stationed at during the Vietnam War. While he worked on fighter jets, I dreamed of solving mysteries with Frank and Joe Hardy, swinging through the African jungle with Tarzan, and joining in the adventures of a boy, not so different than me, in Beverly Cleary's wonderful Henry Huggins books.
Books became my traveling companions, constants in the nomadic childhood of a military brat.
By the time my father retired to New Mexico in the 1970s, I was a full-on book nerd. Math was always a challenge, literature was always a passion. I attended college in Santa Fe, N.Mex. One day I went to the local bookstore to buy copies of a title that had become the most important book in my life at that time. It was called Notes to Myself: My Struggle to Become a Person by Hugh Prather.
The bookseller at the register pointed me to the self-help section when I asked about the book. I found two copies, grabbed them, and got in line. I remember this moment for two reasons: I nearly knocked over a young man with an armload of coffee-table and art books, and there was an unusually long line at the bookstore--in August!
I told the bookseller who rang me up that the book had changed my life. She smiled knowingly while putting my purchase in a bag, then conspiratorially suggested I tell the man behind me in line--the one I almost knocked down--because he was the author.
I turned and stuttered something about how much the book had meant to me. He smiled and asked if I would like to have coffee with him. With me almost in shock, we walked to a nearby coffee shop and spent the afternoon talking together. He could not have been kinder or more encouraging.
During those years in college, he went on to become a true mentor to me, and even after I moved out of state with a job as a publishers sales rep with Random House, we stayed in touch. I was saddened to read his 2010 obituary in the New York Times.
During the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, I called Hugh's lovely wife, Gayle. After catching up, she mentioned a manuscript Hugh had finished the day before he died. She had placed it in a drawer and forgot about it for over a decade.
At my urging, she sent me the manuscript for Gently Down This Dream. I read it, and found it inspiring, but more than that, it was a spiritual sequel to Notes to Myself, the book I so loved from the 1970s. But also, it felt fresh, and perfect for the difficult times we've found ourselves in these last few years.
On Gayle Prather's behalf, I sent it to a good friend, an editor at one of my favorite publishers, New World Library. He and his team liked it, and I'm thrilled to say they published it earlier this year.
It's a full-circle moment for me--the magic of books and bookstores that eventually led me to a long career as a bookseller, a publishers sales rep, a literary agent and an acquisitions editor. And now, having the profound joy of helping to bring to readers Hugh's final message of hope and love. Gently Down This Dream is a book as powerful in its quiet way for this moment in time as Notes to Myself was in the 1970s.