Yep, Thursdays are still lame. They're so lame, I actually blog. Sheesh, now that's a day with nothing to do! I'm happy with the continuing flow of tinies making their way in. I think we'll have a good pool to review.
I was browsing shelves in the B&N on Union Square yesterday, and I discovered a book I'd never heard of before, so I had to buy it. The Dark Chamber, by Leonard Cline. Published in the 1920s, recently reprinted by Cold Spring Press. Not like I'll get it read any time soon, but it's now very lonely and sad on my bookshelf with all my other unread books, waiting like deathrow inmates. If anyone has ever read it, please post a comment and let me know if it's any good.
Yesterday, I was chatting with my good friend Laurie. She had just gotten over to her town library and signed up for a card. I commented that every time I move to a new town, after a few months, I make the pilgrimage and sign up for my library card, then never use it ever. I don't feel guilty about it. I think it's important to have one, but I'm different. If I want a book, I beg one off a friend if it's from a company I know, or if I really want it, I buy the darn thing. I've donated more books to libraries than I have borrowed. The thing about most libraries is, all the books seem to have been purchased in the 1950s. Hey! What the heck did I BUY The Dark Chamber for? My local library probably had a copy... probably from the original printing, actually, that hasn't been borrowed in 40 years.