{POSTED}: Chattin’ with Bill from High Valley Books
by Tyler Exum published Feb 5, 2025
Stumbling across new experiences in the city just by happenstance is often rare these days. Influencer culture almost sucks the spontaneity and even magic out of finding a hidden gem on your own. But, to be totally transparent with you, I don't think Bill's place, also known as High Valley Bookstore, is something I would've just stumbled upon randomly. It's one of those spots made aware to you by the depths of internet forums and limitless Instagram timelines.
Bill, the owner of High Valley Bookstore, sells thousands of magazines from his Greenpoint home in Brooklyn. He runs the shop by himself, along with his lovely black cat, Juni. I was visiting High Valley with the strong intention to chat with Bill (well… interview him) about his collection of magazines, vintage books, how it got started, and why, out of all places, he sells from his home. I imagined sitting in a random corner stacked with magazines, interviewing Bill about his life story, having my Cutting Room Floor, Recho Omondi moment. But that wasn't reality. Honestly, when are the idealizations in our minds ever reality?
I pressed the outside buzzer for Bill to let me in. He’s very welcoming, asking me whether I'm a regular or a first-timer.
“No, it's my first time,” I replied excitedly.
I'm atop the steps of an ordinary Brooklyn row house, but upon entering the apartment, I'm immediately met with books and magazines from the floor up. It’s an early afternoon in December, so the sun still greets us before her 4:00 p.m. departure. A beautiful old living room—an orange sofa meets the wide row house windows by the entrance door, there are no other remnants of a living room space, all of that is left to the tangerine couch that's perched by the windows. The rest is a store, an archive, a museum. Any given publication you lay your eye on could transport you to a different decade, depending on your choice of issue—1960s Vogue, 1930s cookbooks, 1980s Warhol photography. A literal portal through time via print, and it's all at Bill's place.
Then he asks me:
Bill: "Is there anything you're looking for in particular here? Fashion? Design stuff?"
Tyler: (unsure) "Yeah… fashion and literature stuff."
Bill: "Okay, I’m sure we have some literature things in the basement."--
Tyler: --"I'm actually looking for the Spring 2023 issue of DAZED—the one with Azealia Banks on the cover. Do you know who Azealia Banks is?"
Bill: "No… I don't."
I forgot to mention—I was feening to cop anything printed with Ms. Banks on the cover. Unfortunately, there's no Azealia Banks at High Valley Books, but I'm determined to leave here with something—and potentially ask Bill some questions.
Since I was a first-timer, I got a tour of the space. The hallway leading up to the basement is stacked with cookbooks and home/cozy-core reads. The basement, aka the goldmine, is filled with hundreds of publications. Bill’s basement feels like a hidden archive, or perhaps a hidden Greenpoint museum.
There was another girl down there (I forgot her name… sorry, sister), but Bill introduced me to her—actually, he introduced me to everyone in the store. I think that's such a beautiful gesture in times like these, where everyone is so shut off and accustomed to hiding behind screens. I wasn't afraid to make small talk after Bill’s introduction. That small gesture is like bursting a bubble open. The awkwardness around being strangers dissipates—now that I know your name in this cramped basement… Why not have a conversation?
The basement feels like a forgotten artifact, like you're picking up magazines from eras beyond your time. I often think about the artists that came before, always in an ancestral way. This thinking is often even a sensation, and it became tangible the moment I tripped over a plastic bag filled with multiple copies of Jet magazine—gag. I wanted them. Immediately. Plus, I told myself if I'm buying something, there has to be a Black person on the cover. A non-negotiable.
I nabbed the baggie of mini Jet magazines and swiftly moved back up into the living room. Bill was there sifting, sorting, and organizing new additions to the shop. One other person lingered about the living room, asking Bill questions here and there. I felt undercover almost, waiting for the right time to pounce and shoot my questions at him.
Until then, I scoured the living room, bumping into interesting publications like BUTT magazine, Avant Garde magazine, and some freaky-ass French magazine. After a few moments, the people who lingered in the living room slowly made their way out and into the basement.
Since it was just the two of us, Bill thought it would be a good time to chat. Even though he mentioned it wasn’t the most desirable place to chat—since there were always people running in and out—he managed to give me some time to squeeze some questions in. Without hesitation, I whipped out my phone, pressed record, and some chatting ensued. But not about magazines, as I recall (I'm writing this in February lol).
Most of the conversation consisted of the past—the ways in which humans interacted, communed, consumed, and conversed before the hyper-digital age. I was able to extract from Bill a reminiscing of the analog world. That, ultimately, I think, is why he is such a huge fan of magazines. They are tangible. Not only that, the content in some isn't always telling you what to do, or where to go, or who to be like—much like our digital algorithmic feeds (but let's not forget print can be propaganda as well!).
Least to say, there is a specialness, even a coolness, around expression via print magazines. There are no algorithms telling you what magazine to pick up or read. The magic in discovery is quite literally at your fingertips, and High Valley Bookstore is quite literally the perfect place to exercise one’s liberty to discover something new.
We rambled on as Do It Again by Steely Dan played in the background. A few moments later, a few customers drifted back into the living space. I shoved my recorder/iPhone in my pocket.
As my purchase/souvenir from High Valley Bookshop, I decided to get the 1999 issue of i-D magazine with Naomi Campbell on the cover (sorry, Jet). At the end of your journey, Bill checks you out and snaps a pic of you for his Instagram.
At checkout, we chatted a little more about New York, our families, and books. As Bill listened to my background and what I'm about, he said, “It kinda sounds like I'll be interviewing you one of these days.”
I laughed. I’ll take the compliment.
As I walked to the G train station, I whipped out my phone to check on the recording of Bill's interview, and—to my surprise—the sound never recorded. Fair enough… this was during a Mercury retrograde.
Special thanks to Bill and Juni!!