I have more books than I can read. At the turn of the year, I resolved to buy not a single book until I had read everything on my shelves. Like most New Year's Resolutions this one barely lasted through January.Today, I broke the rules once again. Along my walk home from the marketplace I passed a used and rare bookstore, its front doors wide open, beckoning my entry.
Juniper Books is owned by an unassuming gentleman named Roger, who collected my birthday so that he could send a coupon as a gift by mail. He read somplace that the last page of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby has been identified as one of the most powerful pieces of work. (I prefer F. Scott's short stories). Roger is reserved yet friendly in his own manner, akin to a librarian moreso than a shop owner.
The bookstore itself is quiet despite the eclectic sound of indie rock projected by the speaker system. It is located in an old post-wartime house on Ottawa Street with each room designated to a genre of books. When I entered the kitchen, I found the cupboards appropriately stocked with a variety of cooking books.
A quick look around is all I intended but then perusing takes some time, right?
Even in this tiny house, I became lost among shelves of familiar titles and engaging subjects. I found a cozy chair situated suitably among Psychology, Social Sciences and Media and Culture topics and made myself at home until my stomach was growling for lunch.
Before I entered Juniper books, I determined that I would buy one, and only one book today, keeping in mind my January resolution. Instead, I left Juniper Books with Bill Bryson and Margaret Atwood in hand, along with a copy of the classic poem, Beowolf.
Before I entered Juniper books, I determined that I would buy one, and only one book today, keeping in mind my January resolution. Instead, I left Juniper Books with Bill Bryson and Margaret Atwood in hand, along with a copy of the classic poem, Beowolf.
