The following review was written by Gloria Underwood, for Lanier Library, where the book is available for checkout.
“Mr. Penumbra’s 24-hour bookstore” by Robin Sloan.
Who knew, back in 1968, when HAL sang “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do,” that one day we would be walking around with hand-held devices on which we could check our emails, a concept generally unknown at that time except possibly to a few visionaries? Who amongst us imagined such a thing as instant messaging, aside from yelling into the next room?  And who knew that when our mothers announced to total strangers, “That child always has her nose in a book,” we would one day re-evaluate the value of the printed page, instead debating which e-reader is preferable? As more generations are born with computers practically in hand, the gap seems to widen between bibliophiles and PED lovers.
In Robin Sloan’s novel, Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore (Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 2012), those two worlds come face to face. When recent art-college graduate Clay Jannon loses his position as a web designer, he finds a new job the old fashioned way, through a Help Wanted sign he sees in a window as he rambles around the streets of San Francisco.
When Clay gives the correct answers to Mr. Penumbra’s questions, “What do you seek in these shelves?” and “Can you climb a ladder?” he is hired on the spot with two requests: keep a log with a careful description of each client, and never, ever open the books on the higher shelves (clearly an invitation).
Actually, both questions reveal something about the nature of Clay’s new career. Mr. Penumbra is just as arcane as the form of his question, and the bookstore is exceptionally narrow with books shelved three-stories high. A third, later question reveals something about Clay himself. When asked why he wants to work in a bookstore, he says that it’s because he likes the smell of books.
The mysterious membership of Mr. Penumbra’s bookstore compels Clay and his techno-centric buddies to become involved in figuring out all manner of secrets. What language comprises the books? Who is Corvina? Why does Mr. Penumbra disappear? How quickly can he find the Steve Jobs biography for the stripper from the Booty Shop?
Sloan seems to enjoy juxtaposing one world against the other, references to contemporary cultural issues appearing alongside those of an earlier age. Yet he pokes only gentle fun at both groups, the aging quasi-Luddites and the young technophiles proud of never having to touch paper.
In one scene, Clay has taken Kat, his girlfriend, to New York City in search of Mr. Penumbra; he observes that she bought the Sunday Times, but set it aside because she “couldn’t figure out how to operate it.”
Robin Sloan offers an upbeat look at differences and how they clash yet complement one another: youth and age, male and female, tradition and innovation, human brain and computer. He clearly had fun with this novel.
Some resolutions are predictable: computers can provide answers much more quick than other sources; nothing quite compares to the wonder of holding in one’s hands an early volume of philosophy or a rare edition of poetry. Other outcomes may surprise you, but that will be for you to discover.
If you have ever speculated about what will become of books, if you have ever despaired of kids today or the older generation, or if you have ever been the only one in your group not texting or checking emails on your smart phone, then you will enjoy Sloan’s examination of those issues, whether you choose to read it with your nose in a book or in your e-reader.