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Oct. 15th, 2005 05:00 pmThe best afternoons are always spent in bookshops.
I just came home from Gaslight Books, where we had a blast. "Blast" is the precise word, because Kate Orman was looking at pulp fiction covers and my vocabulary feels pulp fictioned. I finally got to meet Kate: she is a lot of fun.
There was quite a crowd there (about fifteen writers) and we did variations on writerly conversations and readerly conversations and ate the very best cheese and wine and sandwiches. I got to play with Ollie (Michael Barry's son). He is a rare two year old in that he is still bubbly and gregarious, so we one-upped each other with finger pointing and tickling and wiggling thumbs and ears. Just in case you wondered, Ollie can almost wiggle his ears, and mine remain firmly fixed in place.
The excuses given for the gathering were the releases of Bill Congreve's new year's best and Jon Blum's new Prisoner book, so a little signing was done, and about 2 minutes of speeches. Gayle knows her people, however, and most of the time was spent having fun.
I escaped without buying anything only because the object I craved above all other objects was Lenny Henry's reading of Anansi Boys, and $150 is not within my reach. Everyone else had their piles of books: Gaslight is one of those shops where you say "Just one book" and then find the three books you have wanted for twenty years. Gayle is particularly good at getting in books by local authors, wherever they are published. She stocks Illuminations, for instance.
The only trouble with Gaslight is it used to be my closest bookshop. I miss it so much!!
I just came home from Gaslight Books, where we had a blast. "Blast" is the precise word, because Kate Orman was looking at pulp fiction covers and my vocabulary feels pulp fictioned. I finally got to meet Kate: she is a lot of fun.
There was quite a crowd there (about fifteen writers) and we did variations on writerly conversations and readerly conversations and ate the very best cheese and wine and sandwiches. I got to play with Ollie (Michael Barry's son). He is a rare two year old in that he is still bubbly and gregarious, so we one-upped each other with finger pointing and tickling and wiggling thumbs and ears. Just in case you wondered, Ollie can almost wiggle his ears, and mine remain firmly fixed in place.
The excuses given for the gathering were the releases of Bill Congreve's new year's best and Jon Blum's new Prisoner book, so a little signing was done, and about 2 minutes of speeches. Gayle knows her people, however, and most of the time was spent having fun.
I escaped without buying anything only because the object I craved above all other objects was Lenny Henry's reading of Anansi Boys, and $150 is not within my reach. Everyone else had their piles of books: Gaslight is one of those shops where you say "Just one book" and then find the three books you have wanted for twenty years. Gayle is particularly good at getting in books by local authors, wherever they are published. She stocks Illuminations, for instance.
The only trouble with Gaslight is it used to be my closest bookshop. I miss it so much!!