Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Bookstores are my vice. The titles intrigue me. The cover designs, the pages, the authors, the subjects. I try to avoid online megastores like Amazon.com; I long for the coziness of a leafy, autumn visit to the bookstore. My bookcase doesn't have much room for my books nowadays. Most of my books are piled up similarly to those disorganized shelves at your local library.
So guess where I went yesterday?
Books on writing were on the agenda. First I hit up Borders looking for Arthur Plotik's Spunk & Bite: A writer's guide to punchier, more engaging language & style. I figured that last thing my writing needed was spunk, but I like Plotnik's play on Strunk & White. Touché. (By the way, Brattle had a first edition of S&W. It was red. I'm a mess)
Borders in Boston's Downtown Crossing didn't have the title, so I skipped over to Brattle Book Shop a few blocks over. It's there that I lost my mind. I like to think of Borders like a sexy new girlfriend, and Brattle more like your sixth grade school crush. She wasn't the most prettiest girl in the doubledutch line, but she did something to you.
So there, I picked up John Brady's The Craft of Interviewing, and Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones, a campfire collection of short essays on writing, style and diction.
Now if I can find a place to put them I'll be OK. continue...