Rambling

Yesterday I went to Barnes and Noble to browse and spend a gift certificate from Christmas. Boy, there is a cottage industry of Jane Austen-derivative books--every fifth book in the "fiction and literature" section referred to Austen in some way. I admit--one time, when I was very young, I bought a Jane Austen rip off. But it was written by her great niece, so that somehow seemed legitimate. But I didn't care for the book.

I don't care for new book stores and almost never go to them. There was loads of contemporary low-brow fiction and "the classics" and almost nothing in between. It just wasn't the sort of place where you could discover things or where you're told by someone smarter and better-read people than you what you should want to read. And of course: the cardinal sin: there was no Laurie Colwin nor Barbara Pym. Honestly, I searched high and low and couldn't even find an essay section.