Wednesday, October 29, 2003

There have been recent moments, gentle reader, when I’ve been certain that things are out of my control. Moments that at first glance could be labeled “lucky” turn out to be far more complicated, and luck quickly becomes too crass and unwieldy a term. I can only conclude that a greater, wiser power is at work, and for that I’m thankful.

I’m also thankful for monolithic bookstores hell-bent on market takeover. Come to think of it, did you ever really empathize with Meg Ryan’s big beef in You’ve Got Mail? True, independent bookstores–a dying breed of book purveyor, consensus might say–hold a certain charm and deserve a space. If your mother and your mother’s mother owned the store, then by golly you’d damn well want it to last. As a customer, however, I can see myself doing what most people would probably do: walk into the store, take a couple of whiffs of musty air, pretend to “browse” when confronted by a salesperson, then cross the street for cheaper wares at Border’s.

And that’s exactly what I did last evening, though I eschewed the “musty bookstore” part. My copy of The Da Vinci Code insisted on going straight back to Amazon, so I needed to fill the immediate void. The drinkmasters generously filled my mug with house favorite “Bali Hai Chai”– bless them for lacing coconut juice with tea–and I eventually walked out with two shiny new books. American Pastoral and One Hundred Years of Solitude look to be real winners; let me know if you’ve read them already! Neatfreak also introduced this series to me. Check it out by all means. It was filed under the “Art” section and has every right to be there.