Dec. 8th, 2010 11:07 am
Books and the City
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muckefuckOne good thing that came out of yesterday (besides, y'know, getting a clean bill of health from the fat man in the lab coat) was finally having a chance to hit a few of the nearby bookstores. My appointments have generally been morning, so even when I wasn't hobbling around, I pretty much needed to chow down and get back to work tout-de-suite. But I finally schnagged a coveted mid-afternoon slot, which gave me an opportunity to browse a bit.
I'm perilously close to being finished for good with the bookstore at Clark and Wellington. It's always been disordered, but it's gotten steadily worse over the years. The loose stacks of books continue to grow while the chance of finding one I'm interested in correspondingly decreases. (It's a never a good sign when a shelf appears with the motto "frequently requested".) Moreover, it's gotten so filthy that it's unpleasant just to be in there. I told myself I really should look over the stacks of children's books by the register for something nice for the boys, but all I wanted to do was check out and go. (Despite everything, I did find--purely by hazard--a book I've been searching for, Frank O'Connor's My father's son.)
So it was a relief and a restorative to move on to Booklegger's on Broadway. Ah, the luxury of clear categories in alphabetical order! Still didn't find anything for the kiddies, but I did hit upon a kiddie book for my older brother. Plus an O'Brien novel for my next Irish lit binge (currently scheduled for this coming March). Continuing with the current mania, we also have another McBain mystery på svenska from the Gallery Bookstore on Belmont. (There's a new compilation of Moberg's Christmas stories available, but at $40 plus $12 postage from Sweden, I decided I could give it a pass.)
I'm within six pages of the end of Hamsun's Mysteries, so I'll be able to put that to bed on the ride home and hold my head high when I see my sister (who bought it for me for my birthday) in two weeks. Then it's on to Hardy's Wessex tales, which I've already dipped into a bit. After that, who knows? It'll probably depend on what Father Christmas plucks from my Amazon list.
I'm perilously close to being finished for good with the bookstore at Clark and Wellington. It's always been disordered, but it's gotten steadily worse over the years. The loose stacks of books continue to grow while the chance of finding one I'm interested in correspondingly decreases. (It's a never a good sign when a shelf appears with the motto "frequently requested".) Moreover, it's gotten so filthy that it's unpleasant just to be in there. I told myself I really should look over the stacks of children's books by the register for something nice for the boys, but all I wanted to do was check out and go. (Despite everything, I did find--purely by hazard--a book I've been searching for, Frank O'Connor's My father's son.)
So it was a relief and a restorative to move on to Booklegger's on Broadway. Ah, the luxury of clear categories in alphabetical order! Still didn't find anything for the kiddies, but I did hit upon a kiddie book for my older brother. Plus an O'Brien novel for my next Irish lit binge (currently scheduled for this coming March). Continuing with the current mania, we also have another McBain mystery på svenska from the Gallery Bookstore on Belmont. (There's a new compilation of Moberg's Christmas stories available, but at $40 plus $12 postage from Sweden, I decided I could give it a pass.)
I'm within six pages of the end of Hamsun's Mysteries, so I'll be able to put that to bed on the ride home and hold my head high when I see my sister (who bought it for me for my birthday) in two weeks. Then it's on to Hardy's Wessex tales, which I've already dipped into a bit. After that, who knows? It'll probably depend on what Father Christmas plucks from my Amazon list.
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