(no subject)
Let me get this straight:
I've lived in my neighbourhood for all of eighteen years, and for ten of them there was an antiquarian book seller three blocks away?
Katie went on a field trip today. To heaven.
I spent sixty dollars on new old books! I have a collection on interpretations of Alice in Wonderland, a book on folk tales of the British Isles, a book on non-Chaucerian Medieval English poetry (with, ohmuhgawd, a tiny Green Man on the front cover)....AND A BOOK OF COLOUR PRINTS OF 19TH CENTURY POSTERS. Beardsley! Mucha! Toulouse Lautrec! *dies*
And the book seller himself? Oh, I've made a friend. Simon is this wonderful British man (who kinda reminds me of Dr Prunesquallor, actually) with an obsession with World War I poetry - the largest collection in North America, apparently. Three minutes after I walked in he was excitedly showing me his new folio of illustrated Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales and the chap-books he picked up off eBay....I had never seen a chap-book before. And all the while serious collectors are coming in to buy and sell and chat - the real dumpster-diving deal.
I neglected to purchase the massive book on the Jack the Ripper investigation... I really do wonder if being fascinated by that particular historic episode is acceptable curiosity or just terribly, terribly sick. But thirty bucks ain't bad. Maybe next time.
I need a job. With which to buy many, many books. Damn, they're expensive.
Oh! And the time to read them! I need that too!