Compensation

[muckefuck]

When I received the invitation through Facebook, I knew something was amiss. First of all, the only recipients were me and my artist friend. Second, the date was both sooner than I remembered and--most suspiciously at all--tonight. Who has an art opening on a Tuesday night? But I dragged myself down to Wicker Park anyway.

For one thing, I was only 99% sure it had been a mistake. For another, I knew that if it was a mistake and I went anyway, my artist friend would owe me. Big time. But even that would not have sufficed if not for the strategic proximity of Myopic Books. After all, what was my big plan for the second GWO-free evening in a row? It was to head down to Bookworks and look for Portuguese textbooks.

Even in the sprawling oubliette that is Myopic's foreign language section, these were surprisingly thin on the ground. In fact, there was a single book and it was far too elementary to interest me. Still, I was amply rewarded for the time spent combing their selection. But judge for yourself:

1. Bowen. Elizabeth. The last September
2. Corbett, Greville. Gender
3. Fontane, Theodor
   • L'Adultera·Graf Petöfy
   • Der Stechlin
4. Le Fanu, Sheridan. In a glass darkly.
5. O'Brien, Edna. The light of evening.
6. Özdamar, Emine Sevgi. Die Brücke vom Goldenen Horn
7. Pamuk, Orhan. The black book

Not to mention that the two hours getting there put me within striking distance of finishing my current read, and now I've got more motivation than ever to dispense with it.